Chapter 105 - 36: [Innate Talent]

Chapter 105: Chapter 36: [Innate Talent]

Furious cyan-white Demon Fire spewed from his throat like a roaring dragon’s breath, instantly roasting the Demonized materials in his hand to a slight char.

He grabbed a small iron flask of salt and pepper nearby and haphazardly shook it over the materials. Stuffing the faintly smoking Demonized materials into his mouth, he chewed wildly—CRUNCH, CRUNCH—before slowly swallowing them down.

This was how the Demon Race rapidly replenished their Spiritual Energy. Under normal circumstances, regular sleep was enough. However, when injured, consuming Demonized materials allowed them to heal quickly and recover their strength.

Musa raised his arm, watching the blood-red sword wound beneath his ribs slowly fade until only a faint scar remained. A low, rumbling chuckle echoed from deep within his throat.

He stood up, casually grabbed the remaining Demonized materials from the wagon, and tossed them to his Demonized servants.

"Eat. Recover your strength," he commanded.

Three of the Demonized servants swarmed forward, snatching up the materials and shoving them into their mouths. Two others, carrying kerosene blowtorches and Large Metal Canisters on their backs, stood guard nearby. They kept their torch nozzles trained on the Exiles, waiting to rotate in once the first three had finished eating.

These servants were not of the Demon Race, but a Magical Beast sacrificial ritual had granted them many of a Magical Beast’s physical traits and innate abilities. Though the effects were inferior, consuming Demonized materials similarly accelerated their healing and rapidly restored their strength.

This was a crucial trait that allowed both Magical Beasts and the Demon Race to survive in the Barren Land.

Over a dozen Demon Race Exiles stood to the side with their heads bowed, eyes filled with resentment as they watched these servants recklessly devour the precious cargo they had painstakingly transported from the Barren Land into the Empire.

"Got a problem?" Musa drawled lazily at the Exiles, who were too afraid to speak out. He leaned over and patted an old man on the shoulder.

The old man had a white beard and wore a dusty, worn sheepskin robe, topped with a traveling merchant’s leather hat and headscarf. Time rarely left its mark on the powerful members of the Demon Race, but the weak were still covered in its scars.

Although Spiritual Energy could extend one’s lifespan, it was ambition and desire that truly allowed the Monarchs to maintain their eternal youth.

The old man was tightly bound by Musa’s barbed whip. Its sharp metal hooks had pierced his sheepskin robe and gouged into his arms, leaving streaks of blood. Yet, he kept his head held high and his eyes closed, remaining silent as he did his best to maintain his dignity, completely ignoring Musa’s provocation.

"A Sharpening Wheel," Musa beckoned. "Bring me one."

The Sharpening Wheel was a common weapon maintenance tool. Much like Grinding Oil, everyone who wielded a blade kept one on hand—from Imperial Soldiers to wandering bandits, from down-and-out Swordsmen to sword-bearing nobles, from Eastern Desert refugees to western ocean pirates, and from common adventurers all the way up to a Demon Monarch.

The Exiles remained silent until finally, a middle-aged man in a heavy coat dug a Sharpening Wheel out of a cargo crate.

"So slow! Any slower, and I’ll use this scrawny old goat to sharpen my blade!" Musa sneered, snatching the palm-sized Sharpening Wheel. He gave the Wheel’s pull-string a fierce yank, then drew the luxurious Long Curved Saber from his waist—a blade shaped like a crescent moon—and brought it to the Wheel.

The blade was plated with a layer of Witch Gold, gleaming with a faint, gloomy blue light.

The texture of Witch Gold was actually not very suitable for weaponry. Although it was a Demonized metal capable of being honed to an impossibly sharp and thin edge, its composition was rather soft and pliable, making it prone to warping.

A finely honed Witch Gold Blade could slice through a metal shield as easily as a hot knife through butter. However, it required meticulous maintenance; the edge had to be carefully reshaped before and after every strike. Otherwise, its sharpness and lethality would rapidly degrade with each successive blow.

Musa narrowed his eyes, carefully using the Sharpening Wheel to grind the slightly warped Witch Gold Blade back into a flawlessly smooth and razor-sharp state.

He sheathed the Long Curved Saber at his waist, tucked the Sharpening Wheel into his robes, and fished a Witch Gold Compass from his breast pocket. The bead of blood suspended within the quartz pillar at the center of the Compass trembled, and its glowing blue Gold needle pointed toward the silhouette of a town across the wheat fields.

Following the needle of the Witch Gold Compass, Musa gazed at the distant town. His eyes swept over the wheat fields and past a dilapidated old barn, ultimately locking onto a specific spot within the settlement.

"Tonight, after midnight, we go and take Ronov’s head!" Musa roared, exhaling a plume of black smoke.