TBR CH194

“Is that so?”

Kriesmeier murmured to himself. He said nothing more, merely walked alone into the deepest reaches of the demon palace. The Lord of Lust watched anxiously as the fine amber dust was repeatedly crushed by the long boots, sparkling dimly on the obsidian.

He had no idea what his unknown predecessor had given the Demon King—

Given the peculiarity of his title, the demon weighed his options, letting his imagination run wild to the point where if the Demon King knew, he would surely die a horrific death. He was an Abyssal Demon, devoid of any moral compass or sense of shame to begin with.

Since a previous lord had pleased the Demon King with a gift, why couldn’t he also try?

A living gift wasn’t very safe; he felt it would be directly crushed by the Demon King, so it had to be chosen carefully; as for the large collection of miscellaneous items in his territory, they might not be entirely useless…

The Lord of Lust began his dangerous contemplation.

Kriesmeier, meanwhile, was oblivious to the thoughts of his subordinate.

Only when the Demon King’s steps inevitably halted did he realize he had unknowingly reached the edge of a sea of flowers. Scarlet blooms surged like waves, their serrated petals flaunting aggressively, almost as if they could cut a person.

This was the back of the demon palace, the side of the abyss.

Kriesmeier rarely ventured here.

But what caught the Demon King’s attention at this moment was not the crimson sea of flowers, but the abandoned garden next to it.

The Demon King’s City was built on the side of the abyss and was also known as the border exiled by the gods. The soil here was as hard as rock, and nothing grew. Apart from a patch of god-given red flowers, the polluted land could not grow any living beings other than carnivorous plants.

The Demon King could not, for the life of him, recall from memory where this small, fenced-off patch of land in front of him had come from.

A sense of incongruity lingered.

Kriesmeier bent down, his pale demon fingers touching the damp surface.

He recoiled as if shocked by electricity, his dark wings instinctively rising behind him, their sharp quills pointing aggressively towards the garden, as if the few blades of grass that left a soft touch on the back of his hand were terrifying traps.

But soon, Kriesmeier cautiously pushed aside the dying plants.

The demon’s dark golden eyes were filled with rare astonishment.

—This was an experimental plot.

The owner of this experimental plot was either a genius or a madman, daring to attempt to grow living plants in the abyss. The former was more likely, because although this nursery was covered with messy dead branches and fallen leaves, there was indeed life surviving, and more than one kind.

At the curling tips of the grass blades, there was even a string of small white flowers.

A miracle.

Was this the miracle he was looking for?

Kriesmeier curled his fingers, the demon cruelly wanting to pluck the tiny stem of the white flower. Dark magic surged in his pale fingertips, and the tiny flower buds trembled.

This was not a remarkable flower, even more minuscule compared to the surrounding sea of flowers, but in the abyss, the flawless pure white, alien to bloody white bones, was an incredible treasure.

Perhaps what he was looking for possessed the same quality.

The Demon King’s arrogant gaze still overlooked this garden as if evaluating it, finding no basis for annoyance with harmless plants. He was about to leave, but at that moment, he felt a dizzying daze.

“White rose”

The word was forcibly torn from his heart, bringing with it a gush of fresh blood.

When he came to his senses, the dark Demon King stood in the center of the nursery, unconsciously gasping for breath.

His dark golden eyes sharply reflected his weapon. The scythe “Demon’s Eye” faithfully and silently accompanied him, and the surroundings were already a mess.

The fragile flowers and plants were torn and crushed. On the land beneath his feet, there was no longer any sign of life. The dark slaughter had ultimately destroyed the small miracle in the demon palace. His fingers lightly stroked a section of “Demon’s Eye”‘s exposed rib, feeling a strange pleasure.

Kriesmeier suddenly understood.

What he sought was never a miracle, nor any so-called treasure.

What he sought was the forgotten mortal enemy. They were the most extreme twins in the world, destined to bleed, struggle, and die because of each other. He deeply hated the other, and even if this memory was stripped away, this heavy hatred still bound him endlessly, to the point where just thinking of the other would make him lose control.

The Demon King decided that starting today, he would use all the treasures he had collected to forge a golden cage. The cage would be studded with the most precious wonders of the Mirar Continent, and a curse would be cast upon it in the most magnificent way.

It would be unbreakable, unshakeable, and his enemy would be imprisoned within it forever.

Nothing could stop him, unless—death.

The Demon King sat on his throne.

He wearily lowered his eyes, and soon felt a heavy fatigue. Only bones accompanied him.

When he closed his eyes for a brief rest, he held his bone scythe, curled up on the supreme throne, his dark wings instinctively forming a dark and sweet space, his knuckles always resting on that new rib—

Compared to the other bones, it was still as stark white as ever.

Magnifying the surveillance footage, amidst the blur, one could still clearly see the figure composed of black pixels hurrying into the shop in the early morning. The person was carrying a bulging canvas bag and rushed towards an empty computer station in the internet cafe.

“That’s right,” Roland’s tone was one of suppressed calm. “It’s him.”

Shan Sheng, after all, didn’t know all the internet cafe owners in Licheng, and this particular owner was especially difficult. Roland had called him before, with the exact same story, but the owner had cautiously kept silent, demanding that Roland come in person to confirm.

If it weren’t for the Grand Master’s sufficiently misleading demeanor, the owner probably wouldn’t have been willing to let him view the surveillance.

Roland’s eyes held genuine concern, as if he truly cared for this non-existent younger brother. Even the Black Book couldn’t help but praise human acting skills. But even so, in a society that valued connections, it was still very difficult to get things done without them. Finding the internet cafe the customer visited late at night was just the first step; more information for a deeper investigation into his identity was necessary.

The manager glared warily at Roland, his hands resting on the internet cafe’s ID registration book:

“By rights, we cannot disclose…”

“I am truly grateful,” Roland said with a sigh. “I know it’s not easy for you to trust a stranger like me, but this is really important to me. It’s so good that you understand. In this world today, there aren’t many kind people like you left.”

“I don’t think I’ve yet—”

“In any case, thank you again for your help. My family has been so worried; I really wish I could tell them this news right now. Do you mind if I take a picture of the surveillance? Wait, the page seems to have closed, does it need a restart?”

His words didn’t stop for a second, not even giving the other party a chance to interject.

The manager’s defensive gaze was bewildered by this string of thanks.

He looked at Roland hesitantly, quickly released his hands, cautioned Roland not to act rashly, then went to adjust the surveillance route page. The young man obediently placed his hands under the table, looking very polite.

Whirl—

The sound of pages turning echoed. The manager immediately pulled back his hand in alarm, then his eyes grew confused. The internet cafe’s glass door remained still, completely blocking out the cold air from outside. There should theoretically be no wind here. But Roland still sat innocently in place; it was a sudden gust of wind that had furiously flipped through the entire book.

The manager hastily pressed down on the registration book.

It was only one or two seconds, and it was upside down. He didn’t think Roland could have secretly seen anything; he was merely worried about the whole book being blown off the counter by the wind.

“Thank you,” Roland said softly.

“What?”

The young man raised his phone, and with a flash, took a picture of the screen behind the manager. This was what the owner had agreed to from the beginning. Then he explained that he shouldn’t continue to disturb them and stood up, resolved to leave. His attitude was polite, yet carried a peculiar air of arrogance.

—What a baffling visitor.

Roland leaned against the shop door. The weather outside had turned dim, partly due to the arrival of night, and partly because of the swirling rain clouds in the sky. This day seemed destined to rain, just like that day. He opened the Black Book, casually tapping in all the information about the person he was tracking, as if opening a notepad app.

“You really remembered it all?”

The Black Book sent an astonished emoji. “You remembered it exactly? I feel like you weren’t even using magic.”

“Isn’t wind magic?”

Roland replied casually, “It’s just a name and a string of numbers; it’s not very difficult.”

“They appeared in front of you for less than two seconds, and there were many other names on that page…”

“I’m not an ordinary person to begin with.”

The Grand Master said. He was a genius; he didn’t abide by the basic rules of ordinary people.

The Black Book flickered, not immediately sending new dialogue. It observed the young man through the perspective of the World Consciousness. Although Roland said he was smiling and his tone was relaxed, his entire being was enveloped by a certain cold, aloof aura. While the Grand Master was inherently arrogant, he used to emphasize his abnormality less frequently.

In the few minutes they lingered, a fine drizzle filled the entire sky.

Roland didn’t have an umbrella, but he didn’t particularly care.

He exited the Black Book’s app interface, then skillfully entered a string of addresses. The World Consciousness vigilantly detected the human’s unwillingness to return to “Zero Distance Internet Cafe,” forcibly manipulated the display, and popped out again.

“Wait, it’s so late, where are you still planning to go??”

“Haven’t I already found the identity information?” the human said. “First, I need to confirm if he’s the Son of Fortune. For that, I need to visit nearby schools; this is based on the best guess that he’s a student. Next, I still need to go—”

“Going to school so late, how could you find anyone?? And you’re not a student.”

“None of that is a problem.”

Roland said, he moved his fingertips, and a silver-white light faintly shimmered at his human fingertips.

The Black Book was dumbfounded for a few seconds. During this time, the human started relentlessly trying to reopen the page. It interrupted the process, carefully considering its words, and finally couldn’t help but ask: “What if you hadn’t found any clues just now? I mean, what if the clues hadn’t appeared so easily, and it just ended there, would you…”

“I’d pull up the surveillance,” Roland said calmly. “I might have to infiltrate some more secure places, but I’m prepared for that too.”

“Wait a moment.”

“Temporarily knock the other party out, or blackmail someone into helping, or failing that, steal and rob.”

Although the Black Book had no physical form, it felt a wave of dizziness.

“Stop, that’s enough. But you won’t have time to check all these places tonight.”

“I’m not using the least efficient method to search,”

Roland closed his eyes for a moment. “I’ve already got so much information. Even if I run out of time, I can find him tomorrow, the day after… Anyway, I’m prepared for disappointment.”

“Like, you’re looking for the wrong person entirely.”

“I’ll still look first, then talk.”

“Uh,” the Black Book said, “How should I put it, I think you’re a bit irrational right now. There’s no harm in going back to your lodging first. You haven’t logged into the game yet, so you have no idea what the situation is like on Mirar Continent. Game friends are the only most irrefutable channel of contact. I don’t think you’re the type to neglect the root for the branch.”

Roland wanted to retort.

But the autumn night rain brought an irresistible chill, and as far as the eye could see, the roads were muddy. Occasionally, car horns sounded, then were drowned out by the sound of rain.

The human sighed.

The Black Book waited for a while.

Then it received a dejected black cat emoji that the young man picked out from a pile of emojis: the black cat had drooping ears, looked like it was reflecting on itself, its amber pupils round, and it held a sign in its mouth:

“You’re right.”

The avatar of Black Cat 538647 lit up.

This was the only account on Bai Shi’s friend list. He took a deep breath, looking at the darkness on the screen. If this were just a game, it might be admirable for its realism. But now he only felt irritated.

Ever since being inexplicably knocked unconscious by Anna, he had been subjected to a sleeping effect.

Switching the game to third-person view, Bai Shi personally watched the venomous witch Hilda, whom he hated with a passion, elegantly emerge from behind Anna and place a hand on his shoulder.

“So…” Hilda said.

“I lost the bet,” he heard the usually gentle Anna say gently again, then she moved away, “I won’t interfere with anything you do, Miss Hilda.”

Through the screen, he clearly saw the wrinkles and spots on Anna’s face disappear, revealing a smooth forehead. Her brown eyes still gazed forward with a hint of sadness, exactly as he remembered. Bai Shi held a sliver of hope. He quickly opened the favorability page, only to find that Anna’s favorability had also dropped to a single digit.

Thus, the Hero had completely fallen into the hands of the evil witch Hilda.

When Hilda smiled, her braided purple pigtails swayed back and forth. She stood tall and slender, while her python swallowed the in-game Hero whole. Bai Shi watched in despair as the Hero on the screen was dragged, staggering, unable to resist.

“System,” he swallowed, “Don’t I have a divine artifact? I even maxed out my strength points. You should be able to give me a cheat, right? You can’t just let me be dragged away by this crazy woman…”

The system said coldly: “The host failed to detect the sneak attack, resulting in restricted actions in the game. Corresponding countermeasures can only be used after the restraint is lifted.”

“Can’t you do anything?”

“I am also subject to the world’s laws,” for some reason, Bai Shi heard a hint of fear in the system’s voice. “Breaking too many laws will accelerate the actions of the Heavenly Dao, which is very dangerous. The mysterious disconnection of the two worlds is already a premonition. You have to figure this out yourself.”

The system’s static crackled and blurred for a moment:

“—I’m worried it’s about to find us.”

The gruesome python’s belly on Bai Shi’s screen lasted for quite a while. Although “Abyss” processed the interface to a slightly more acceptable effect, he still felt nauseous. Bai Shi couldn’t be sure where he was, but by opening the game map, he could see his coordinates continuously moving.

The python spat him out.

“Go back and I’ll give you something delicious to eat,” Hilda soothed, clearly even the snake wasn’t too keen on swallowing the Hero.

Now, the in-game Hero looked very disheveled, covered in dirt and python stomach fluid. He heard a dull thud, then found himself falling heavily into a pit.

Hilda skillfully used magic to fill the earth, not forgetting to leave a vent hole.

“I know you so-called players can’t die,” she said nonchalantly. “I don’t want to see your face on the altar again, this way you can’t revive.”

The screen in front of him was covered by soil; whether in first or third person, only darkness remained in his vision. Bai Shi pressed every key on his keyboard and tried to use potions through the cheat tool.

But potions could only dispel some common magic, and the magic Anna used clearly bore the distinct tag of the Wizard Tower’s original creation.

“Magic can’t be permanent.”

The system consoled.

At this moment, Hilda just happened to announce: “I’ll come back occasionally to reinforce the sleeping magic, but—sacrificing a little afternoon tea time is a small price to pay to get rid of a nuisance.”

Then came the retreating footsteps.

The footsteps were very crisp: a malicious, indifferent, hypocritical witch. Bai Shi’s face was pale. The Hero he had created was supposed to be perfect and flawless, how could it have come to this?

But the witch’s method just happened to exploit a system bug.

The screen in front of him was dark and lifeless. The handsome and dashing Hero was just stuffed into a narrow, cramped underground space, like a tomb, and had no solution for the moment. The sleeping effect next to the health bar did show a countdown, but this hateful witch would arrive again tomorrow.

Just as he was at a loss, the friend online icon suddenly lit up.

Black Cat 538647 had just come online and received a distress message from the Son of Fortune.

“You’re buried underground?”

Roland moved his cursor with some surprise, opening the chat box. “Don’t you have a lot of resources? —Oh, well, I get it. Since this is just an accident, what do you need me to do?”

Roland controlled the black cat on the screen to jump down from the altar.

Since it was closest to the Demon King’s City when it last logged off, this was also the altar closest to the Demon King’s City.

In the distance, the sharp spires of the demon palace could already be seen. The black cat pricked its pointed ears, squatting on a tree, swaying as it watched. The world after twenty years seemed no different from the world before, at least from this distant vantage point, where everything was shrouded in a hazy layer of dust.

…No, it was different.

When the black cat inevitably walked through the streets and alleys of the Demon King’s City, Roland felt terrible. Apart from the usual hellcats, this city had changed details in countless places. The wanted posters for the Grand Master had disappeared, bounties were filled with new names, and the Demon King remained proud and solitary, but no longer obsessed with a particular human.

Roland didn’t know when Kriesmeier had developed a new hobby of collecting treasures.

But it didn’t matter.

With just the strength of a black cat, it was hard to get close to the demon palace. And there seemed no need for it to appear before Kriesmeier now, unless it really wanted to be killed by a weapon made from its own ribs.

Roland lowered his eyes and looked at the feather in his hand.

A dark, sharp, yet soft feather.

He sighed, and while leaving the Demon King’s City, which made him feel close yet distant, he replied to the Son of Fortune’s message. He had originally been wondering how to contact him, but his student was already very capable, being able to bury the Son of Fortune was simply excellent.

As their mentor, the Grand Master felt very pleased.

“So,” Roland asked, “where are you now?”

The black cat lightly walked towards the city gate, unknowingly turning into the territory of the Lord of Lust. The Lord’s aesthetic was hard to understand; he had his posters everywhere, deliberately emphasizing his bright purple horns. Roland found this aesthetic hard to grasp, and this face was very unfamiliar to him.

To avoid becoming melancholic, the Grand Master opened the location message sent by the Son of Fortune.

The location showed that the arrogant Hero was solidly buried in a corner of the Kingdom.

That meant he had to make a trip to the Kingdom.

Roland thought this, then closed the page, and then was startled.

At this moment, he saw several low-level demons walk out of the Lord of Lust’s palace and begin to paste large posters on the walls. The posters were brushed with an ambiguous rose color, looking freshly printed, complementing the Lord’s self-portrait.

What was written on it—

“Demon King’s City Beauty Pageant”?

“Selecting outstanding talents, winners will be presented as gifts to ‘that great one’.”

The poster read with tempting words—”Reasonable division, fair contracts, transparent rules, all races can participate. No guarantee of life safety, please bear risks yourself.”

The black cat stiffly took a step back, almost tripping.

Had the times changed too quickly?