In the borderlands, wailing had long become commonplace.
Sieg, deaf to it all, was solely focused on buying slaves, haggling over prices.
He didn’t meddle in others’ affairs, always keeping himself detached, high above it all.
Unless someone provoked him, he wouldn’t care.
But unexpectedly, even he got stood up one day.
“What’s that, buddy? You messing with me?”
“Young Master Sieg, there was an unexpected situation. Some nobles from the capital suddenly demanded a large batch of slaves to be shipped tomorrow. I don’t know what they’re up to, but they’ve basically bought up all our stock. We really don’t have anything left for you.”
The slave merchant was visibly polite on the surface, after all, he was the one breaching the contract.
His hands rubbed together nervously like a fly, trying to ease the tension, swallowing hard.
After a pause, he offered a remedy.
“I’ll refund your deposit. I hope you’ll be magnanimous. It’s a small business, please understand, Young Master Sieg.”
“That won’t do. Breaching a contract like this isn’t enough with just a refund. You’d better think again, and make it satisfactory.”
Clearly, Sieg was displeased with the compensation offer.
He sat down, legs crossed, visibly annoyed.
If this situation dragged on, it would delay his progress significantly.
Besides, among that carefully selected batch of slaves were several with great potential.
Give them up?
What a joke.
The aura emanating from him sent chills down spines, as if the next second this place might vanish into thin air.
He stared coldly at the slave merchant, giving him one final chance.
“Young Master Sieg, don’t push it. I’m not someone to mess with either.”
The slave merchant’s face still carried a grin, but it was a hollow, insincere smile.
He began to threaten back, dropping the act.
After all, to thrive in this kind of business, who didn’t have ruthless enforcers and powerful backers?
From the start, he had other plans.
His greedy eyes fixated on Emilia, who stood behind Sieg, wrapped tightly in a cloak, as if he were gazing at a mountain of gold and silver.
“Young Master.”
It was clear he knew her identity and had no intention of handing her over to the emperor.
After all, the nobles offered a higher price.
“Don’t be shameless. Let’s part ways amicably. Oh, and leave that silver-haired woman behind before you go.”
The slave merchant tossed a bag of deposit money at Sieg’s feet, the coins clinking sharply in the dim basement.
At this, the hidden enforcers emerged from the shadows, none of them looking like pushovers.
Their strength was evident.
They surrounded Sieg and Emilia, trapping them with no apparent escape.
At this, Sieg let out a bored “Oh,” still sitting with his legs crossed, as if only now realizing something.
He put on an exaggerated look of sudden clarity.
Now he understood why, despite having stock earlier, this fat-eared slave merchant had delayed him with excuses about “preparing the goods.”
So this was the setup for today’s little game.
How dull.
Perhaps an elephant doesn’t care what an ant is scheming, or perhaps he’d already anticipated this and planned to play along, picking up some scraps to supplement his funds.
After all, he was just a selfish, ordinary guy who wanted to go home.
He even had the mood to tease the girl behind him, Emilia, his fingers absentmindedly playing with her long, silver hair, enjoying its smooth texture.
“You’re really a hot commodity in the empire, huh? Like Tang Monk’s flesh—everyone who sees you wants a bite.”
“Ugh, I’m causing trouble for you again. Sorry.”
She didn’t say much, only offering an apology.
This irritated the slave merchant, who, acting superior, issued his final ultimatum, dropping all pretense of respect.
His men were itching for a fight.
“Hey, Sieg, if you don’t want to die, take the money and leave.”
“You’d better watch your mouth. The last…”
Sieg, ever meticulous, rubbed his chin, recalling that the last person to speak to him like this was the hero Gerald.
Too bad he didn’t win that fight.
Pausing, he thought for a moment and added, “The one before the last who dared talk to me like that is already dead.”
“Alright, boys, kill him! Don’t give him a chance to cast any spells. Oh, and don’t touch the woman—I’m keeping her for myself.”
As the furious shout rang out, Sieg reacted.
He scratched an itch, yawned, and muttered a low whisper that was unexpectedly calm.
“Aminos.”
With an invisible slash, the surrounding people were instantly cleaved in half.
Contrary to expectations, there was no bloodbath.
These thugs were simply sliced apart perfectly, collapsing lifelessly as if they were works of art.
All except the slave merchant, who was spared—for now, as he still had his uses.
Accustomed to death, the man and woman showed little reaction, as if it were as mundane as eating a meal.
At this moment, Sieg leisurely rose from his chair.
His former majesty shone through—the majesty of the Demon King Hakimi.
Shrugging, his handsome face bore an expression of boredom.
Everything was unfolding exactly as he had anticipated.
He slowly approached the trembling slave merchant, who was now sobbing in fear, and stopped.
The merchant had collapsed to the ground, his plump body shaking uncontrollably.
The sound of his cries echoed in the dimly lit basement, mingling with the stench of blood, creating a peculiar atmosphere.
A faint thrill stirred in Sieg, whether out of kindness or some other motive.
With a half-smile, hands in his pockets, he bent down and looked at the merchant with amusement.
“This was self-defense, so don’t accuse me of killing innocently. I’m a man of principles, after all. So, slave merchant, do you want to live? I can give you a chance—how about it?”
“Really?”
The slave merchant, who had seen no hope until now, ceased his futile struggling.
He looked up at Sieg in disbelief, as if he had found a way to survive.
Sieg smiled cryptically, saying, “Yes, yes, brother. My word is my bond. All you need to do is obediently hand over your money—until I’m satisfied. I’m a generous man; I won’t hold a grudge and might even let you off.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll do it right away. Please wait.”
The slave merchant hurriedly got up, scrambling to gather his hidden wealth.
Like a cunning rabbit with three burrows, his riches were stashed in places no one else could find.
Soon, a pile of gold and silver treasures gleamed under the candlelight.
In no time, he had amassed a considerable fortune, which he respectfully presented, his face brimming with obsequious flattery.
“This is all my wealth. Is this enough?”
In his mind, though, he was plotting viciously: If I survive, I’ll remember this face and make him pay one day.
Before he could finish the thought, his head was severed.
A final piece of advice echoed: “No one’s promises mean anything. Only what you control yourself counts. Remember that in your next life.”
Looking at the pile of gold and silver treasures—now his for the taking—Sieg couldn’t help but hum lightly.
He stuffed the riches into his pockets until they were overflowing.
He knew it was better to let this man gather the wealth for him than to search fruitlessly himself.
After all, people will do anything to survive, especially when it comes to material possessions.
As if struck by a thought, Sieg frowned in disgust, squatted halfway, and reached out.
With practiced ease that tugged at the heart, he rummaged through the corpse and pulled out a large ring of keys, preparing to claim his “slave goods.”
Perhaps feeling a twinge of guilt, Sieg tossed three thousand gold coins beside the body as payment for the slaves.
Whether the dead merchant could “receive” it was none of his concern—he had still completed the transaction process.