The Demon Lords
Chapter 59 - 45 Son Smash_1

Chapter 59: Chapter 45 Son Smash_1

Almost every household in Hutou City, including some village settlements outside the city, had a cellar.

Yan State was located in the north of the Central Plains, and Beifeng Prefecture was in the north of Yan State, so the winters here were rather long. During the autumn, people needed to store four to six months’ worth of vegetables, fruits, and grains. The most effective and cost-efficient way to do this was through cellar storage.

Below the main house, there was also a large cellar. It was used not only for storing food for the members of the Hyena Gang and their captives but also for gold, silver, and other valuables.

However, this cellar had been emptied a few days ago.

Over a dozen barbarian slaves were busy at work here, amidst numerous large pots and utensils.

Blind Bei led the way with a lantern, while Xue Three followed leisurely behind, dragging his three legs.

They descended a flight of steps and entered the cellar.

On one side of the cellar wall, some letters were written in chalk, left behind by A Ming:

2NaHCO+ Ca(OH)==== CaCO+ 2NaOH +2 HO...

"Heh, it looks quite advanced," Xue Three chuckled, looking at the chemical equation on the wall.

"It’s just high school chemistry," Blind Bei said calmly.

"Alright. Seems like I wouldn’t dare transmigrate in the future without learning chemistry properly."

"Yes, indeed." Blind Bei pointed around. "A Ming will likely spend more time by My lord’s side, serving as his blackboard. He usually takes care of this place, but for now, you’ll be temporarily responsible for it. Soap production and perfume extraction technology have already been established. You’d better keep a close eye on these barbarian slaves. It’s better to kill one by mistake than to let one slip through."

"Understood, I get it."

Soap and perfume were crucial for the inn’s future development, so naturally, no mistakes could be made. Since there weren’t enough hands available, they could only use these barbarian slaves, whom they took over from the Hyena Gang, as laborers.

"Alright, in a couple of days, the first batch of goods should be sufficient. I’ll then go to Tuman City to find large trading companies and see if we can arrange for direct distribution."

"Not playing the long game?"

"Let’s make some quick money. Once the first batch is out, we can start preparing to recruit and form our cavalry. At that point, we might have to send someone to the desert again."

"The criminal tribe Fanli mentioned?"

"Let’s wait and see. We can’t be sure yet."

"Alright, I’ll keep an eye on things here. Nothing will go wrong."

"I trust you to handle things. If any problems arise, find A Ming."

"Okay, got it. Aren’t you tired of nagging so much?"

"Actually, if My lord could make rapid progress in his cultivation base, we wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble."

"Making a thousand li of progress in a day is too difficult; but a thousand li in a single bout of diarrhea, now that’s something one can strive for."

"Alright then, you take care of that paper. I’m going up."

"Hmm."

Watching Blind Bei carry his lantern up the steps and leave the cellar, Xue Three silently sat down against the wall. He knew this was essentially a form of banishment, and also a warning.

"What are you looking at?! Get to work, or there’ll be no food!" Xue Three pointed at the barbarian slaves and shouted.

He puffed up his cheeks and sighed, then murmured:

Tsk, looks like he wants to be the big boss, huh. Heh, just an old fossil from a defunct group.

"Still better than a eunuch like you."

Blind Bei’s voice suddenly echoed from the depths of Xue Three’s heart.

Xue Three’s face reddened, and he snapped, "Damn it, can’t a person have any privacy?!"

"Sorry, I forgot to turn it off. It’s off now. Lat—"

Xue Three grunted, "Stinky blind man."

"Damned... crip... ple..."

"..." Xue Three.

...

By the edge of the pool, Zheng Fan was soaking. The distinct pain in his body had vanished, but he still occasionally felt a sense of motion sickness, as if he’d become a bottle half-filled with water that sloshed and clanged with the slightest movement. With a towel over his face, he imagined he had already passed away.

"SQUEAK..."

Siniang entered with a fruit platter, bringing with her a burst of fragrance.

She walked to the edge of the pool, sat down, picked up a washed grape, and peeled it. Then, she gently lifted a corner of the towel on Zheng Fan’s face. Zheng Fan opened his mouth and took the grape.

"My lord, do you like grapes?"

Zheng Fan grunted in acknowledgment.

Siniang said, "It’s a pity this grape is a bit large. I’m talking about milk-scented grapes, similar to milk-flavored sweet corn."

"Alright, I’m the one with the dirty mind."

"My lord, are you very tired?"

"Hmm..."

"Is it because we are putting too much pressure on you?"

"No, the baleful aura today made me feel like I had a fever. I’m not very comfortable."

"Would you like me to give you a massage then?"

"No need. I’ll soak a while longer, then go to sleep. I have class tomorrow. No massage tonight; it’s not like I got beaten up anyway."

"Very well, My lord. Please rest early. I shall take my leave."

Siniang slowly rose, walked out the door, and turned to close it.

The moment the door closed, a hint of distress appeared on Siniang’s face.

Although My lord was an ordinary person and had lived as such until adulthood, they were, after all, comic characters he had created. A creator who could immerse himself in horror comics until his death without letting go must have a lonely and sensitive heart. Blind Bei hadn’t told My lord the truth. But in their eagerness to further enhance their strength, it seemed they had indeed pressured My lord a bit too much.

Siniang bit her upper lip. She desperately wanted to go in and explain everything to My lord, but after a moment’s hesitation, she didn’t push the door open again.

All her sorrow manifested as a soft sigh. Siniang turned, her figure disappearing into the darkness of the night.

...

In reality, Zheng Fan wasn’t actually that sentimental. From the very beginning, he had a very clear understanding of his own position. For instance, although his six subordinates seemed to compete daily to win his favor, it was akin to a principal organizing a ’review’ for his own amusement at the end of student military training. The students would collectively shout, ’Greetings, Principal!’ and the principal, playing the part, would wave and reply, ’You’ve all worked hard, students!’ In truth, who really took whom seriously? If Zheng Fan truly saw himself in the supreme position of ’My lord,’ he would have had Siniang warm his bed long ago. As for them pressuring him, Zheng Fan felt it but wasn’t particularly resentful. He considered enduring some hardship and suffering worthwhile if it could improve his strength. A leader who can only stand by and shout ’Awesome!’ while his subordinates charge into battle—it would be strange if he could command real authority or respect. It’s like young people clamoring for independence and freedom from their parents. When you no longer need to rely on your parents for support, and can even support them in return, you naturally achieve freedom.

It was just... a touch of melancholy. It felt like the bond they shared during their first few days at the inn—a kind of kinship among fellow outcasts—was slowly fading. But he had chosen this path. On this road, sentimentality was truly a burden.

"AHHHHHHHH..." Zheng Fan let out a quiet "shout."

Then, his gaze fell once more upon the rock floating before him.

Every day, when he bathed, he would bring it into the pool with him and even cover it with a towel.

"THUD!"

Zheng Fan kicked the rock to the other end of the pool.

Before long, the rock, still draped with the towel, slowly floated back.

This is all your fault! Why won’t you come out yet?

Zheng Fan was feeling genuinely weary.

’Mo Wan’ had been the most successful work of his former studio, his own brainchild. In the context of this world, Mo Wan was his most trusted, core creation! But this core creation, for some reason, had sealed itself inside a stone and refused to emerge, more reclusive than any cloistered maiden. If Mo Wan were here, even if it wasn’t fawning over him, even if it were cold and indifferent, he would undoubtedly feel a much greater sense of confidence when facing Blind Bei, Liang Cheng, and the others!

He reached out, picked up the rock, and placed it in front of him.

In the past, he’d often heard colleagues say their works were like their own children. Back then, he thought they were being overly sentimental. Even with your own child, when they cry, misbehave, or especially when you’re supervising their homework, you often get the urge to stuff them back where they came from. But in this world, in this environment... compared to the others... Blind Bei’s shrewdness, Xue Three’s glibness, Liang Cheng’s coldness, Siniang’s gentleness, Fanli’s simple-mindedness, A Ming’s aloof pride... Their images flashed through Zheng Fan’s mind one by one. In the end, he still felt a layer of separation.

Sigh, my son... Zheng Fan felt his eyes begin to sting, and he lamented with a sigh, "Daddy misses you."

His voice was still somewhat suppressed. Even in his own courtyard, Zheng Fan didn’t dare to shout loudly to vent his emotions.

He shook his head and tossed the rock back into the pool.

Zheng Fan climbed out of the pool, grabbed a nearby dry towel, cursorily wiped himself down, and then went to the bed in the back to rest.

After Zheng Fan left, only a solitary rock remained floating in the pool. What Zheng Fan didn’t see was that not long after he departed, the water in the pool began to slowly darken. The once-warm pool water started to cool rapidly, even forming minute ice crystals on its surface.

If Siniang or Xue Three had been in the room at that moment, they would certainly have exclaimed, "Such potent... killing intent!"