Chapter 232

Fire basin? Demon sacrifice? Demon? This aura feels familiar… Just as Nagris thought this, Ang shouted angrily: "Tulus! You burned my fields!"

Nagris nearly toppled over, rushing forward with a mix of tears and laughter to stop Ang from crushing the demon: "Not Tulus! Not Tulus! Tulus is dead, dead!"

This skeleton's past is beyond redemption—last time in Black Mountain Duchy, he screamed "Tulus" at a demon, and now he screams "Tulus" at another. Can't all demons be Tulus?

Wait, now that you mention it, isn't this the same demon from Black Mountain Duchy?

"You? The demon from Black Mountain Duchy?" Nagris exclaimed.

The Lord of Terror wore a mournful face and asked: "Who exactly is this Tulus? Do I look like him?"

Nagris shook his head: "Not at all. Just a high-rank demon. You can perform demon sacrifice—you must be at least a Demon King level, right? How should we address you?"

"High-rank demon!? High-rank demon!? You can mistake a high-rank demon for me?! Your eyes…" The Lord of Terror wanted to yell, "Are you blind?!" But remembering his situation, he swallowed the rest of his words.

Nagris felt embarrassed too—indeed, they'd been blind. Demons, next to insects, were the most complex species: differing forms, varying strengths, different attributes, even different methods of reproduction.

Succubi were one type of demon, and their reproductive method was particularly unusual (six thousand words omitted…).

For convenience, humans ranked demons by strength: Low Demons, Demons, Mid-rank, High-rank, Great Demons—these were the common types.

Above them were Demon Kings and Demon Sovereigns—not common at all. Each ruled vast territories with thousands of subjects, equivalent to humans' gods and Truth-tier experts.

Ang confused a Demon God with a common high-rank demon—what else could you call that but blindness?

"I am the Lord of Terror, sovereign of the Abyss of Terror. What do you intend to do?" the Lord of Terror rumbled.

"Lord of Terror? You're a Demon Sovereign? What are you doing here?" Nagris asked, then added: "And what did you do in Black Mountain Duchy?"

"Are you asking me questions? Remember, dealings with demons require sufficient payment. Are you ready?" the Lord of Terror asked.

Nagris smiled: "Ready. Answer my questions, and we'll let you go."

The Lord of Terror rolled his eyes: "This is just my projection, not my true body. Why would you need to 'let me go'? Offer something real."

"Even a projection is part of your power. If you refuse, we'll crush it?" Nagris said confidently.

The Lord of Terror's expression shifted several times, then sighed helplessly: "My sacrifice fire basin is nearly empty. Fine. I'll answer three questions. After that, you must return my fire basin—no harm to me. Agree? Sign the contract."

As he spoke, a spectral scroll of parchment slowly materialized, inscribed with demonic runes.

The Lord of Terror explained: "Do you understand demonic runes? I'll explain: this line is the names of both parties; this line is the agreement—answer three questions; this line is the reward: once I answer your three questions, you must release my fire basin and inflict no harm. Finally, signatures. Any questions? If not, sign and press your fingerprint."

Nagris squinted, reading line by line carefully.

The longer he stared, the more impatient the Lord of Terror grew: "You act like you can read it. These are demonic runes. Do you think a Demon Sovereign like me would lie to you?"

Nagris glanced sideways at it, wearing a strange expression: "What if I really can read them? Demons claim they never lie—but that's just a claim. I know a succubus who insists she's eighteen every time. Explain this rune to me."

"Huh? This line just says 'no harm shall be done to me'?" the Lord of Terror stammered.

"Yes, yes—this 'line' says that. But what about this 'sentence'? Think carefully. I've never seen a demon lie on a demonic contract."

The Lord of Terror's face turned as sour as if he'd eaten excrement. He groaned: "Six hundred demon crystals to the Lord of Terror… You really do understand the runes…"

Nagris smiled: "So demons don't lie on demonic contracts—only hide key information. Three questions?"

The Lord of Terror bristled: "I am the Lord of Terror, the Omniscient Lord of Terror! To have the chance to ask me questions is your honor! Two hundred demon crystals per question—cheap! Don't compare me to those foolish humans!"

Oh? Omniscient?! Nagris's gaze toward the Lord of Terror involuntarily blazed with Xiong Xiong's battle intent: Kua Bada, stealing my title?

But after glancing at Ang, Nagris had an idea. He was about to ask the question the demon had always failed to answer: Where did the King go?

But before he could speak, the demon added: "Except for private, unique, individual matters—like who went where, what color underwear they wore, or whether they'd be struck by a meteor—anything public or knowledge-based, I can answer. Pay a small price, and you'll dominate exams and rankings."

Damn! Not only stealing the title of the God of Knowledge, but doing what Nagris refused to do—unbearable: "No money. Crush it."

"Wait!" the demon cried out. The demon crystal clause on the contract vanished line by line: "Is this acceptable?"

"Add the date and deadline."

Nagris was still curious how this demon ended up in Black Mountain Duchy and why he associated with the undead. After carefully reviewing the contract and confirming no traps, he pressed his finger down.

The demonic contract dissolved into light particles, sinking simultaneously into Nagris and the demon.

In the magical world, too many forces uphold honesty and contracts: undead soul oaths, living beings' loyalty oaths, mages' magical contracts, demons' demonic contracts.

All are bound by belief and rules—hard to cheat. Even a prayer must follow rules. Once, a man prayed to the God of Undeath but broke his promise—and Ang cut him down.

Soul oaths are maintained by soul links; magical contracts by magical elements; demonic contracts by their own rules—no fear of breach.

But demons love trickery, hiding key information. If you can't read demonic runes, you'll easily be cheated.

Yet human nature is greedy and hopeful. When the temptation is great, some know they'll be cheated—but still think: "It won't happen to me."

Having signed the contract, Nagris prepared to ask: "In Black Mountain Duchy, you used the insect plague to breach the city, harvesting human fear—what did you intend to do with these emotions?"

The demon's expression hardened, his eyes widening: Kua Bada—can you even ask a question like that?

It was like stating the answer first, then asking the questioner for their reasoning. The Lord of Terror now desperately wanted to know how Nagris knew so much.

"I… this… you…" the Lord of Terror stammered.

"Think carefully—you signed the contract, and I added a deadline. Can you withstand the backlash?" Nagris said smugly. He'd been mocked by Xia Malala before—he remembered it well, and instantly saw through the demon's omission of date and deadline.

The Lord of Terror sighed helplessly: "I created several terror ghosts, used them to parasitize relay spirits. Did it work?" They were in the tower's lower level, unable to see the relay spirits, but could faintly sense their aura.

"Oh, so that terror ghost was yours," Nagris realized.

"So you teamed up with that undead to parasitize the relay spirit—but how did it end up in undead hands?" Nagris said, gesturing for Ang to bring out the box sealing the Luna Spirit Fragment.

The Lord of Terror nearly cried: "You can't ask like that! How many questions is that?"

"One," Nagris said.

"One my ass! If I don't answer the first, you'll assume silence; if I do, you'll say the question's invalid—the second becomes the real question. You little copper dragon, you're ruthless!"

He usually played this trick on his prey—never imagined someone would turn it on him.

"So, what's your answer?" Nagris didn't deny his trickery—otherwise, three questions wouldn't yield anything.

The Lord of Terror gave up. He realized this underdeveloped Huang Tong dragon possessed too much information. He wasn't asking questions—he was verifying his own theories.

"That undead is the Night Watchman of the Sleep Land cemetery. He dug up this box from the cemetery," the Lord of Terror said.

"Sleep Land!?"

Sleep Land! Nagris gasped. Ang's attention sharpened as he stared at the demon.

"You mean Sleep Land? The one from Zhigong?" Nagris asked slowly, deliberately.

The Lord of Terror nearly wept: "You know that too? Who are you? I didn't even know about Zhigong—but that undead said so."

"Where is Sleep Land?" Nagris asked urgently, forgetting all his questioning tactics.

The Lord of Terror answered quickly: "I don't know. Haha, three questions done. Let me go now!"

"Damn, too eager," Nagris slapped his own forehead in frustration—too hasty. He hadn't closed the loophole. The demon just had to say "I don't know," and the question was answered.

"Let it go. Kua Bada. Our contract's done, but look—glittering demon crystals." Nagris gestured for Ang to produce some.

Ang casually dumped out a mountain of at least one hundred thousand demon crystals. The demon's eyes bulged as if they'd fall out.

"And pure soul crystals."

Ang conjured another pile of soul crystals. He had endless soul energy—soul crystals and soul energy were merely two forms, easily convertible with minimal loss.

The demon's already bulging eyes widened further.

"And food, cloth, salt, fertilizer, divine essence fluid, World Tree branches, Life Fruits, elf beans, upgrade beans—oh, and worthless gold and silver coins. Anything you want? Pay the price, and they're yours…" Nagris's voice dropped low, dripping with temptation.

The Lord of Terror's eyes gleamed, his mind sweeping over the pile, desperate to clutch it all—but then he heard "price," and snapped back to awareness.

He usually said this to his prey—how had the roles reversed? Who was the demon now?

Beware, don't be fooled. Beware, don't be tempted. His mind warned himself repeatedly. But each glance at the pile weakened his resolve—until he surrendered completely: "Just say what you want. I want this, this, and this."

After haggling, the Lord of Terror signed a contract so airtight that, by his standards, he'd been robbed—but everyone else deemed it fair. To demons, fairness meant being robbed.

After all questions were answered, Ang tossed three hundred soul crystals, ten bags of grain, and one branch of the Tree of Life into the fire basin. As the flames burned, the items slowly vanished.

Nagris was satisfied. These were all cheap things on Ang's person—endless offerings poured in daily from believers, he hadn't farmed in ages, the Instant Death aura was rarely used, and his soul energy had accumulated massively.

Cheap items, yet they yielded the most critical information: "Sleep Land is lost in the Void. That undead is the Night Watchman of the Sleep Land cemetery. There are a dozen or so like him—but he was the most restless, digging up items from the cemetery and fleeing. Among them was Luna's Spirit Fragment."

"He also gave a rough coordinate. Search there, and you might find the Sleep Land cemetery. There are tens of millions, perhaps billions of undead there—intact. Sleep Land was built to protect corpses. Find it, and we can reclaim the Undead Empire's strongest force."

"But the coordinate is too vague. We need a powerful spatial mage and a dimensional beast…"

As he spoke, Nagris and Ang turned to see a large cat tiptoeing toward them. Caught, the cat let out a loud "Miao!" and lunged for the Life Fruit on the ground.

The Life Fruit, as large as a washbasin, wasn't much smaller than the cat—but as it pounced, its long fur covered it, and the fruit vanished.

Having secured the Life Fruit, the cat turned to flee—but not faster than Ang. He grabbed its hind legs and shook it hard.

"Good. We have a dimensional beast. Now we just need a powerful spatial mage, then we can set out to find the Sleep Land cemetery. Find the cemetery, and we might learn why it was torn from Zhigong—and what happened back then."

"By the way, remember that dress-tearing female mage? Her spatial magic is incredibly strong—likely Archmage level. Let's ask her for help, or hire someone from the Mercenary Guild. What do you think?" Nagris buzzed with excitement, eager to depart.

"No," Ang firmly refused.