Chapter 60: Bad News

News of a tragedy spread through the Demon King’s circle: the one and only Hakimi Demon King, barely over a hundred years old, who was also a Sigmar man and the continent’s foremost fist champion, was found dead on the grand bed within the Demon King’s castle.

The deceased had long used forbidden Demon King techniques in excess to restore his former strength, causing his blood to become as viscous as oil and his heart to grow twice the size of an ordinary demon’s.

His liver and kidneys were severely damaged in multiple places, and the forbidden techniques had hypertrophied his muscles to the size of a giant beast, requiring 100,000 kilocalories of wild demon beasts daily. His stomach and intestines were stuffed full.

He once advocated for natural strength enhancement, steady and solid progress.

Now, having become a human pillar for the Demon King’s forbidden arts under the tutelage of the Nine Dragon’s Power, the old Demon King’s dream had warned him: “If you cannot endure the pain of forbidden techniques, you will have to endure the pain of life.”

As long as he wasn’t dead, he would use the techniques to the fullest—30% training, 70% application, and the remaining 90% relying on the black tech of forbidden arts.

Now his wife Emilia was entering her transfer period, and young Gerald had moved into the Demon King’s castle carrying his bags, driving his car, living in his house, drinking his milk powder, and using his forbidden techniques.

“What kind of domineering nonsense is this? What kind of dream have I had again? There’s no way I dare use forbidden techniques.”

Jolted awake by the dream, Sigmar looked at the familiar yet strange ceiling while lying on the grand bed.

He touched his forehead, recalling what had happened before he fainted. His last memory was Emilia’s chest—so soft, so fragrant.

There was no helping it; her chest was like a magnet, forcibly sticking his handsome face to it, making it hard even to breathe.

Damn it, you naturally evil little Uchiha brat—no, you naturally well-endowed woman. Just with a few pounds of flesh, you managed to trap me.

Your strength is not to be underestimated. Next time, I must be more careful.

Seeing no one around, Sigmar guessed Emilia had gone to handle something important. Otherwise, given her personality, she would probably be waiting for him to wake up, then switch to “gravity mode” and bombard him with questions.

Silently rising, he leaned against the headboard and noticed the lights outside were still bright.

He got out of bed, tidied up his clothes, and stepped out to check while frowning deeply, considering how to handle the matters he had promised Emilia.

First, get her foster mother over here. As for how—well, kidnapping would do. Once she’s here, it’s Emilia’s problem, not his.

And then there’s the orphanage… that’s a big headache too. Scratching his head, he felt a bit troubled. Raising a bunch of useless laborers purely for his own strength—if it were anyone else, they would hum in amusement.

Anyway, expenses were sure to be high. He fondled the money in his pants, tight and insufficient. Since arriving at the ruins of the Demon King’s castle, all he had were outgoings and no income, money flowing out like water.

When will I get to earn some money reasonably? I don’t want just a little—I want to make a lot. People are greedy by nature, and Sigmar made no effort to hide that truth.

He sighed and stretched lazily.

But… considering Emilia’s value and role, a huge expenditure wasn’t impossible. He just hoped she wouldn’t disappoint him next. The Dragon King was patient.

Thinking of it as investing in the future of the Demon King’s castle made him feel much better instantly.

The quarrel in his ears grew louder, and he quickened his pace.

Lifting the tent flap, he stepped out and looked down from a high vantage point.

The square, freshly cleared and brightly lit under the night sky, was filled with militia recently selected by Emilia, all holding weapons and confronting a dozen or so ragged figures.

Emilia was currently negotiating amicably with them—the leaders of the escaped slaves.

Fixing his gaze, Sigmar recognized them as the same slaves who had previously run away. Only a few remained.

It seemed the monsters hadn’t been effective enough. These guys probably couldn’t survive outside and had come here.

Understandable, but that didn’t mean he could accept it.

“I’m here.”

Without hesitation, he leapt forward with a powerful stride, landing like a superhero and drawing everyone’s attention.

Without wasting words, he stood up and immediately asked the girl for the situation, since the two of them could communicate simply and clearly, avoiding unnecessary delays.

“What’s going on? Emilia.”

“These slaves can’t bear life outside and can’t escape here either. They saw us setting roots here and the monsters dare not attack, so they hope to join us or be taken out of here. They offer a heavy reward.”

Understanding his intent, she quickly explained the situation.

Her white dress fluttered in the wind, and the torch flames burned higher, reflecting the tension in the atmosphere.

Her blood-red eyes stared fiercely at the young leader of the other side.

There was no room for relaxation, as this person was skilled in magic and clearly backed by a significant force.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she delved deeper, suspecting there was a lot behind why someone with such abilities had become a slave.

But she had no intention of probing further.

The indifferent question from Sigmar echoed in her ears.

He seemed genuinely willing to talk things out, but in reality, after extracting information, he would strike.

There was no reason or value in keeping these people alive.

The memories of past betrayals and burned supplies were still fresh.

He was very much a man who held grudges.

“Oh? Tell me your terms, then…”

The unequal negotiation ended quickly, leaving only the sound of heads falling.

The silver-haired girl witnessed this without much emotion, as if she had expected it or was used to it.

Meanwhile, the militia beside her trembled, some even sick to the point of vomiting.

She knew they would need to step up their training.

But today was just their first day after selection; that was understandable.

Hopefully, there wouldn’t be such incidents next time.

Her blood-red eyes reflected the bloody scene on the ground as the previous conversation echoed in her mind.

Apparently, this guy was some prince from another country, but unfortunately, his throne had been usurped by the nobles under him.

Now he was a wanderer, even presenting some proof of his identity, threatening Sigmar and hoping Sigmar would let him go to seek revenge, promising a heavy reward in the future.

Too bad Sigmar didn’t fall for it.

After all, he… she looked at Sigmar with eyes full of tenderness.

“I don’t buy that, brother. You even tried to threaten me midway—stupid.

If you hadn’t threatened me, maybe I’d be in a good mood and let you live.

Besides, the rewards you promised were empty words. Now that I’ve killed you, aren’t your things mine?

That’s the truth. Next time, be more careful.”

He muttered softly, bent down to trigger a passive ability, and rummaged through the items no one wanted.

Finding quite a few things, he stuffed them all into his pants but felt uncomfortable and simply took some out.

He casually tossed them to Emilia with a shrug, utterly unconcerned.

Looking back at the tall militia members, he lamented that unfortunately, they lacked proper weaponry and equipment.

He would have to arrange some sets for them in the future.

“Oh, by the way, some sets were taken from those noble knights.

In a few days, I’ll give them to you to use.”

“Leave it to me. It might come in handy later.

By the way, are these the militia you picked? Not bad, I’m quite satisfied.”

Emilia accepted the items without refusal, carefully storing them as if they were national treasures.

She then answered, “Yes, tomorrow we will continue selecting ten more. Including the carefully chosen slaves you picked, that makes twenty in total.

She paused briefly and pointed to the rebellious slaves.

“What will you do with these, Sigmar?”

“Use everything to its fullest. Let the militia gain courage and let everyone else know the consequences of betrayal. I hate betrayal.”

His fierce tone left no room for argument. That was all there was to it.