Chapter 39: Offerings to the Demons

Chapter 39: Offerings of the Demons

The administrative office, formerly the imperial palace, was almost devoid of servants. It stood empty and desolate, like a ghost town. In many of the dim corners, one could still spot human-like limbs and mangled remains, and a foul stench lingered in the air as one approached.

In the spacious and brightly lit Funing Hall, Duan Hu sprang up from his specially crafted dragon throne. His ferocious gaze was that of a wild beast, not a man.

"What? Wang Wu raided the execution ground and killed dozens of demons?"

"It was indeed him," Yang Huzhan replied, head bowed. He was terrified, fearing that Duan Hu might swallow him whole in a fit of rage.

Duan Hu took a deep breath, narrowed his eyes, and said, "Describe the scene in detail. Do not leave out a single thing."

Yang Huzhan recounted the events exactly as they happened. The details were so vivid that Duan Hu’s eye twitched several times, but since he had demanded full disclosure, he held his temper. After hearing everything, even Duan Hu, who had been lording over the land for years, felt a chill in his heart. Wang Wu had managed to kill half the demons and scare off the other half in an instant. How many years had it been since Wang Wu escaped the Celestial Prison? To think he had grown to such a level.

Back then, after Wang Wu escaped, he and Wei Ting had speculated that the man would die of his wounds on the road. They had underestimated him; not only had he survived, but he had progressed even further. Fortunately, he himself had also advanced significantly, and his strength was growing rapidly. There was no need to fear an assassination attempt from Wang Wu. The fact that Wang Wu only dared to raid the execution ground showed that he still feared him.

"It is impossible for Wang Wu to have progressed this quickly. It is most likely due to the power of the Tyrant Blade," Duan Hu said, belittling his rival.

"That must be it," Yang Huzhan agreed.

"Wang Wu and that, uh..." Duan Hu trailed off. He had suddenly forgotten the name of the young man he had ordered to be beheaded after the youth was imprisoned for insulting him and refusing to repent.

"Shao Pingping," Yang Huzhan whispered, carefully raising his head.

"Right, Shao Pingping. What was his relationship with Wang Wu?"

"As far as I know, they had no connection."

Duan Hu paced back and forth a few times before stopping. "It seems Wang Wu was just meddling in affairs that did not concern him." Like a dog catching mice for sport, he thought to himself.

"That is the only explanation that makes sense," Yang Huzhan echoed like a sycophant.

"No, that’s not right..." Duan Hu’s expression turned somber. Years of experience told him that when things seemed too normal, there was something strange underneath. But where was the deception?

Duan Hu asked, almost as if possessed, "I heard there is a recorder in the Left History Office named Qin Yuan. He is supposedly an eighth-rank expert. Could he..." Duan Hu stopped himself. The absurd thought that Qin Yuan was not actually an eighth-rank expert and was masquerading as Wang Wu had crossed his mind. He changed his tone: "Could he have a connection with Wang Wu?"

Yang Huzhan gave a bitter laugh. "Qin Yuan is nicknamed 'Old Turtle' and is famous for being afraid of death. How could a hero like Wang Wu be friends with someone like that?" He remembered clearly that while many had tried to befriend Wang Wu back then, Wang Wu had only sworn brotherhood with Tan Zhuangfei, precisely because Tan possessed the spirit of a hero.

"So he is the 'Old Turtle'," Duan Hu chuckled, his suspicions vanishing.

Just then, the group of demons that had been scared off by the man masquerading as Wang Wu entered from outside, instantly filling the spacious hall. Thud, thud, thud... they collapsed to the floor in unison to beg for mercy.

"You may go," Duan Hu said to Yang Huzhan.

"As you command." Yang Huzhan hurried away as if fleeing for his life. He was terrified of seeing something he shouldn't. Last year, during the Mid-Autumn Festival, Duan Hu had hosted a banquet for thousands of demons outside the Fengtian Hall. The sight of demons feasting on "two-legged sheep"—human flesh—was something he would never forget. As he crossed the threshold, he stumbled, and glancing sideways, he saw several demons staring at him with gluttonous hunger. He had no doubt that without Duan Hu’s protection, they would have devoured him.

"Are you alright?" Duan Hu’s concerned voice echoed.

"I... I am fine," Yang Huzhan stammered.

"Let me send you on your way." Duan Hu pushed with both palms, and a powerful gust of wind propelled Yang Huzhan far away from the hall.

Returning to his dragon throne, Duan Hu scrutinized the demons for a moment and smiled. "Rise. This is not your fault; that scoundrel Wang Wu is simply too strong." The demons let out a collective sigh of relief, as if they had spent a year in purgatory rather than a mere moment.

"It is the tenth day again. Time for the offering," Duan Hu said. The demons looked as though they were mourning their own deaths. They practiced the Five Animal Frolics diagrams, and every month, they were required to surrender seventy percent of their newly cultivated essence and spirit to the diagrams, five percent to Duan Hu, five percent to Feng Gou, and five percent to their leaders, leaving only fifteen percent for themselves.

The common people viewed demons as a great terror and avoided them, but in reality, they were merely the objects of layer upon layer of exploitation. It was a deeply ironic situation.

"Hmm." Duan Hu released a terrifying aura. Almost simultaneously, he transformed into a giant, winged tiger, roaring down at them. Terrified, the demons hastily surrendered their portion of essence and spirit. Duan Hu opened his gaping maw and inhaled deeply, drawing in a tidal wave of essence and spirit into his body. He wore an expression of immense satisfaction, though he remarked with some dissatisfaction, "The essence and spirit this month are a bit thin."

Looking down, he saw the demons were dejected, so he began to offer encouragement: "People are forged by pressure; you must learn to push yourselves. Think of tomorrow, when you become Great Demons..."

Soon, the demons' spirits lifted, and a few even roared with excitement. Duan Hu laughed inwardly. These creatures, having turned into demons, were even easier to fool than soldiers. Suddenly, his smile vanished. The Five Animal Immortal had said similar things to him when its consciousness descended. In essence, he was no different from these demons—all of them were merely puppets in the hands of the Five Animal Immortal.

"Enough. Go back to work," he said, waving his hand with a sense of listlessness. The demons charged out, howling with dreams of becoming Great Demons.

"A bunch of fools. If anyone is to become a Great Demon, it will be me." After speaking these words uncontrollably, Duan Hu’s expression soured. It took a long time for him to calm down.

His gaze fell upon the long blade resting on a rack nearby. Duan Hu suddenly thought of Wang Wu’s chaotic raid on the execution ground again. Could Wang Wu have been hiding his true strength? He had encountered old monsters before who, when fighting, would use thirty percent of their power, hide thirty percent, keep thirty percent in reserve, and hold the last ten percent back even if they were dying.

"Thirty percent? They get to keep thirty percent; I only get to keep two percent," Qin Yuan muttered to himself in the Tianlu Pavilion of the Imperial Academy while flipping through various travelogues and miscellaneous notes.

During the raid, despite possessing a century’s worth of internal energy, he had only used two years' worth. If not for the fact that the world had become more conducive to cultivation in recent years, making Grandmasters less rare, he might not have even used one year’s worth. To put it bluntly, this world was a chessboard for a group of powerful titans. Though he had a century of internal energy, he was nothing before them. If he didn't learn to keep a low profile, he would definitely be eaten by the titans—no, by the titans' chess pieces.