Chapter 278: If You Chase Me Again, I

Nagelis blinked, looked at Ang, then at the scythe, and asked puzzled: "Why are you chopping it? It's not a Demon Stele—it's just a stone tablet. You're not confusing it with Tulus again, are you?"

If Tulus's soul were aware, it would surely regret dying—burning Ang's fields is still remembered to this day.

But Ang paid it no mind; he focused his gaze, soul flames rising from his feet as he paced slowly, each step leaving behind a burning footprint on the ground.

Seeing Ang's posture, Nagelis was unimpressed, about to speak—when a puff of smoke erupted nearby, coalescing into a face that grinned awkwardly: "Heh, heh, long time no see. How's everyone been?"

"Lord of Terror!" Nagelis's eyes widened—there really was a demon, and an old acquaintance—the Lord of Terror.

The Lord of Terror, who had unleashed the insect plague in Heishan City, lured the Night Watchers in the Land of Slumber, and once swaggered with such power—now dragged out by Ang from this crumbling stone tablet?

How to put it? Bearing the title "Lord of Terror," it was at least a Demon King level entity—meaning, a god among demons.

And it had indeed done many astonishing things: pulling the Night Watchers from the Land of Slumber, reviving the Insect Exorcist, unleashing the Heishan insect plague, summoning the Hellhound, and creating terrifying ghosts.

Each feat proved it a genuine Demon King, and it even called itself the ruler of the Abyss of Terror—anyone would assume it a supreme, invincible lord of its realm.

Yet this crumbling stone tablet had flaking inscriptions, worse than a thatched hut at the village entrance—and Ang had dragged it out from here, as if pulling a realm's lord from a thatched hut.

What happened? Haven't seen it in months—how did it get this weak?

The Lord of Terror grinned awkwardly, smoke forming tiny hands as it rubbed them together: "What brings you here? Heh, welcome, welcome."

Its tone was excessively polite, nothing like the brashness it showed back at the firepit.

Nagelis hesitated: "Aren't you the ruler of the Abyss of Terror?"

The Lord of Terror replied: "Yes, yes, this is the Abyss of Terror."

"..." Nagelis turned to look around.

This was an internal space within a massive stone block, walls all around—but Nagelis's soul couldn't extend to the edges, so it couldn't see the walls, only knew them through Ang's description.

But everyone knew Ang's descriptive skills—after hearing it, no one felt terror.

"Not terrifying? Wait till those divine cows starve and come howling around you, crying—then you'll know how terrifying it is," the Lord of Terror snapped.

Divine cows? Everyone instinctively turned to look at the Cow Woman.

The Cow Woman had just finished devouring a watermelon-sized beet, her face smeared with red juice. Seeing everyone stare, she startled, pulled her big hands behind her back, wiped them on her rear, and grinned toothily.

No one felt terror. They turned back.

The Lord of Terror also noticed the Cow Woman, surprised: "You ate beet? Where'd you get beet?"

Nagelis snapped: "Don't change the subject. What was the insect plague? How could you trigger it? Is this your true body?"

The Lord of Terror nodded, cooperative: "I didn't trigger the plague—it was the Insect Exorcist himself. I just gave him a little guidance."

"No, he was dead. You revived him," Nagelis said.

"No, no, no—he revived himself. I just guided him: told him what materials to prepare, helped him sign a contract, took a small processing fee," the Lord of Terror denied.

"I get it—you're pulling a classic con. Just like Anthony, you're just as sneaky," Nagelis couldn't help cursing.

This trick felt so familiar—Anthony had just pulled it not long ago: using Ang's grain and silver coins to swindle others' money and food. If not for the disaster relief, Anthony would've been the greatest con artist in the Prime Plane's history.

"No, no, no," the Lord of Terror hurried to deny: "I merely charged a reasonable consultation fee. Knowledge is the greatest wealth. If I hadn't told him what materials to prepare, he'd be dead. Isn't charging a small fee fair?"

"Fair..." Nagelis was about to leap up and smash its skull—but suddenly remembered something, its entire body deflating like a punctured balloon.

Because it realized: it did the exact same job as this demon—but Ang had never paid a single coin.

Nagelis's sudden depression drew everyone closer, concerned, even the little angel rushing over to feel its forehead.

"Aow!" The little angel yowled, then turned and spread its wings toward the Lord of Terror.

Before holy light flared, Nagelis intercepted it, laughing and groaning: "I'm a death dragon—I'm naturally cold. It's not him. It's not him."

Those two "aows" meant "frozen solid"—no one knew who taught it that, but "frozen solid" meant dead.

"Aow?" The little angel tilted its head.

"It's nothing, really nothing—just remembered something else. I've figured it out now," Nagelis said, gently ruffling the little angel's head.

It had overthought. They were already a team—this demon was fundamentally different. Even the mindless little angel cared about it—this kind of feeling was the truest.

Seeing Nagelis was truly fine, the little angel shook its head and punched Nagelis right in the eye socket.

Then it bounced over to Ang, raised its tiny hand, and patted its own head—as if saying, "Look how great I am!"—until Ang patted its head, and it calmed down.

Nagelis clutched its face, laughing and groaning—it had forgotten only Ang could touch the little angel's head. But that punch had jolted it awake. It turned to the Lord of Terror, fists clenched: "How dare you use 'Seduction' on me? Almost fell for it."

After living ten thousand years, how could a dragon be so easily swayed by emotion? Now Nagelis realized—it had fallen for this demon's trick.

The Lord of Terror drew back, smiling bitterly: "Not intentional, not intentional—it's just habit. Demons speak this way; our voices naturally emit psychic waves."

"Lies. Do you take me for a fool dragon?" Nagelis lunged to attack—but was promptly blasted back by smoke. Couldn't even beat a puff of smoke—too embarrassing. Before anyone could rush to help, the smoke vanished.

Run? Ang stepped forward, planted his foot—the ground erupted with flaming footprints, spreading invisible ripples.

Thus, Ang ran step by step, sprinting as if chasing something invisible. As he ran, it seemed the thing turned—he made a sharp turn, then surged forward in acceleration.

After chasing for several minutes, the Lord of Terror's wailing voice suddenly rang out ahead: "You've chased me this long—aren't you tired?!"

"I've done nothing to you. Stop chasing me!"

"Are you insane? Why is your soul so stubborn?!"

"Stop chasing me! If you keep chasing, I'm going to throw up!"

Panicked and fleeing blindly, the Lord of Terror didn't notice the still-burning footprints—and slammed straight into one.

The others had been utterly confused, watching only Ang sprint wildly through the dark, leaving a trail of footprints. Xia Malala even whispered: "What's the master doing? Is he just running around randomly?"

Luna whispered back: "He's weaving a net—those are his soul forces, enhancing his perception. This demon has fused its bloodline with this land, letting its will shift freely. If it escapes his perception range, we'll never find it again."

"So Ang is using soul force to form a net, slowly shrinking the demon's movement range."

Xia Malala asked: "Is he still chasing it?" She only saw Ang—worried he might lose track.

Luna shook her head: "I can't sense the demon either—but he hasn't lost it. Ang doesn't do pointless things."

Xia Malala fell silent—but soon blurted: "Luna, can you teach me combat?"

Luna blinked: "Teach you? No need. When I possess you, you'll gain all my combat skills. Why suddenly want to learn?"

Xia Malala sighed: "I realize now how shallow my understanding of combat was—I thought it was just punches, swords, magic. But now I see it can be so devious. If it were me, I wouldn't even detect the enemy—or be seduced right away."

Luna nodded: "Yes, I noticed too. You have a strong obsession. If you'd been seduced just now, you'd have gone mad trying to seize the Holy Light. There's no good defense against spiritual attacks—only one way: don't let them speak."

Luna never imagined her words would one day forge a "Silent Angel"—whenever an enemy opened its mouth, Xia Malala would explode, roaring "Shut up!" and unleash her ultimate attack.

"Your problem isn't technique—it's experience. I'll share more combat wisdom with you when I can—but it may not help much."

"Some people are born with combat instinct. Even facing unknown foes, they instantly find solutions and fully understand their own power. No amount of knowledge or experience can replace that. Look at the God of Knowledge," Luna murmured.

Did someone just mention him? Nagelis turned, suspicious, a clear fist imprint on its face.

Xia Malala instantly understood: combat technique was useless. The God of Knowledge knew every technique and all knowledge—but still lost to everyone.

Meanwhile, the Lord of Terror was being chased into desperation, slamming into one of Ang's footprints.

Flames erupted from the footprint, revealing a blurred figure—then Ang's scythe slashed through it.

The flame figure shattered, leaving only a soul flame clinging to the scythe.

After intense interrogation, the Lord of Terror confessed even what it ate last night.

The Lord of Terror was indeed a Demon King, and this place was truly the Abyss of Terror—once a fiery underground world filled with lava. But one day, the Undead King arrived.

One of the Undead King's purple-gold skeletons punched it to pieces, leaving only a Demon Stele.

At first, the Lord of Terror was delighted—the Undead King didn't touch the stele. It planned to wait until the undead left, then reincarnate.

But the Undead King's subordinates dragged in five gods and one human. Of the gods, the Lord of Terror recognized only one—the Redemption Goddess of the Light Church. The human was a Spatial Archmage.

Under the King's orders, they built and activated a grand gate, draining all the lava from the space.

The Undead King departed through the grand gate, leaving only the purple-gold skeleton to guard it.

For a time, the five gods and the Spatial Archmage obediently maintained the gate's opening.

The purple-gold skeleton harmed none of them, fulfilling all their needs—even summoning a Lich King to build a farm barrier and capture a group of Cow People to till the land.

This lasted twenty years—until the lava was fully drained. At the final moment, the human Archmage rebelled, shut the grand gate, and escaped.

Enraged, the purple-gold skeleton slaughtered all the gods and chased the human—but never returned.

"That doesn't make sense," Nagelis frowned. "You say these Cow People were captured by the purple-gold skeleton—then why does the stele carve 'Exiled Divine Cow Clan'?"

The Lord of Terror squirmed: "I made it up. Wanted to trick you away. Didn't expect you to notice."

Nagelis understood: "So you've been unable to reincarnate because all the lava was drained—you've only been sending out psychic projections to deceive people."

The Lord of Terror blushed: "Yes. Many still hope for easy gains—they found me. I projected myself, taught them how to get something for nothing, and took a small processing fee."

"Tsk tsk tsk—if you take fees, how's it 'something for nothing'?" Nagelis retorted.

But inside, its heart churned violently—its gaze fixed on the grand gate.

"So the King entered through this gate—and vanished? Where does it lead? Why so much lava? How do you open it?"

Nagelis's mind raced, turning to call Ang—only to find Ang gone.

"Damn it—he's gone to farm again." Sure enough, Nagelis found Ang in the farm barrier.

He was plowing in the Cow People's field, while the Cow People held piles of grain and beets, watching him happily.