Six-Armed Serpent Demon

Page 44

So what?

Her eyes darted around, scanning the people who were secretly watching them. Everyone who met her gaze lowered their eyes in unison.

The emerald green vertical pupils possessed a sharpness that was almost impossible to look directly at.

Gideroltin stood beside her, looking at her in surprise, feeling a moment of disorientation.

Whether it's telepathy or telepathic techniques, or this aura that surpasses all living beings... is this woman really still my quiet, hardworking niece?

The six-armed snake demon held a glass of wine in one hand and casually pushed the chips onto the colored blocks marked with "" on the gambling table with the other.

The waiter threw six dice onto the long table.

While the table servers might not be able to cast spells, they were all skilled at identifying magic. As the familiar magical fluctuations reappeared, the server's brow twitched in alarm.

When the six dice stop rolling one by one on the table, the sum of the numbers is exactly fifteen.

The gambler sitting opposite her suddenly stood up.

This is a man dressed in fine clothes.

He had just lost all his chips. He glared at her fiercely, his face flushing red then turning pale, then red again, wanting to unleash a torrent of curses. But the moment his eyes met hers, those emerald green vertical pupils, he lowered his head in fear.

In the end, the man left without saying a word, throwing his chair down in the air.

A self-deprecating smile appeared on the reborn's lips.

It all feels like yesterday.

She used to be that shy, homebody girl from her previous life on Earth, who stayed in her room all day and was too shy to talk to strangers. Now, she acts completely independently, treating everyone like dirt, and has developed a so-called "superior" mentality.

She sighed softly to herself, yet remained slightly wary.

Perhaps "staying at home" and "escaping" are themselves a form of uncompromising self-expression.

But upon arriving in this strange world, the countless life-or-death battles, the blood on her hands, and the deaths of hundreds of people ultimately catalyzed her transformation.

Just then, a refined-looking man helped up the chair that the other man had knocked over when he left, and sat down opposite her in place of the gambler.

“Hi,” he smiled, revealing his teeth. “Hello.”

"Hello."

She replied coldly, not wanting to talk to strangers.

Since coming into this world and having a completely new face and appearance, she began to understand why beautiful women always put on a cold and aloof demeanor when they are out in public.

There's no other reason than that too many men have an inflated sense of self-importance and are overly aggressive.

If she gave them even the slightest bit of kindness, they would interpret her gentle demeanor as a signal that they were allowed to mate, and then launch a fierce offensive, causing her endless headaches.

However, indifference only works on men of average status; it will backfire on men who are truly confident, further fueling their desire to conquer.

She held her wine glass, swirling it gently, letting her mind wander freely.

Anyone who has studied biology even a little would not believe in the historical social stages of matriarchal clan societies.

The idea that women play a vital role in gathering, producing, and raising children, thus determining that society is centered on women, is utter nonsense.

Before apes evolved into humans, it was always the male monkeys that competed for the position of alpha male in the group.

Do mother monkeys not know how to pick fruit or raise their young?

The foundation for maintaining tribal dominance has always been violence. This is especially true when productivity is low. Those who control violence hold the power to rule.

Violence is power.

Even in the modern society of Earth in the previous life, the evolution of weapons could almost eliminate gender inequality in violence, but even in that era, women's path to protecting their rights was still extremely difficult.

But that's getting off-topic...

Looking back at myself, isn't my current change in mindset precisely because I was so confident in my control over violence?

As the saying goes, "With a sharp blade in one's heart, the desire to kill arises naturally."

When you possess the power to take someone's life or death, your mindset inevitably changes. You will unconsciously look down on others and consider yourself superior.

It is said that demons are the evil transformations of the souls of the dead.

If that's the case, then everyone has a demon living inside them.

"It's a pleasure to sit across from you, beautiful lady."

Just then, the man's words interrupted her racing thoughts.

As expected, he was not offended by her coldness at all. He stared straight at her, then suddenly smiled, revealing his white teeth.

“My name is Patrick,” he said, “a traveler. May I ask your name?”

She took another small sip of wine.

"Ivy Beatrice".

Interesting. This is the first man to dare look her in the eye like that. And she could see it; there was also an unfathomable darkness in his eyes.

The clock is turned back five minutes.

Patrick returned to the gambling hall, bringing with him Lana and Tusu, a native who had also changed into a formal suit.

The full evening attire, from the leather shoes and socks, made the native feel extremely uncomfortable. Clothes, unlike nudity, restricted his freedom of movement, and the layers of fabric only added to his discomfort. His skin's pores were forced to shut out the natural air, leaving the native warrior constantly feeling short of breath.

The atmosphere in the hall only fueled his disgust.

Naked greed floated in the polluted air, and countless chaotic and fanatical emotions were everywhere.

Patrick glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Patrick couldn't help but feel genuine pleasure whenever he saw someone suffering or feeling unwell, whether that person was an enemy or an ally.

"You'll have to get used to it."

He said this to Tusu with a serious expression.

"And remember this feeling; this is where demons like to frequent. Humanity's boundless desires are the lifeblood of demons. To become a qualified totem demon-slaying warrior, you must become familiar with this environment. You must do this often—"

Before Patrick could finish speaking, he noticed that Tusu suddenly stood there motionless, as if struck by lightning, his eyes fixed on one direction.

He followed Tusu's gaze.

There sat a graceful figure whose back seemed somewhat familiar.

It was a bright green evening gown with a very low slit at the back, resembling a swing arm.

Her fiery red hair swept from her right shoulder to her chest, revealing the full, white curves of her back and making the shadows of her spine appear even deeper and longer. The spine stretched downwards, with the shadows of her lower back dimples appearing and disappearing.

He admired her slender waist, her plump, peach-shaped buttocks that suddenly widened below her waist, and her long, jade-like legs encased in an emerald green evening gown beneath the chair.

She crossed her legs, her knees touching. It was a rather crude gesture, yet it appeared exceptionally elegant.

But as he looked down with immense admiration…

Suddenly, I felt my aesthetic sense was shattered.

This woman's perfect, jade-like feet were actually encased in a pair of simple sandals! Dark brown, the kind of cheap, bulky leather sandals you'd wear at home or to a public bathhouse.

—A bright green backless evening gown paired with oversized sandals worn in a public bathroom—what a crazy combination!

Patrick suddenly felt an urge to buy a pair of shoes and ask the woman to put them on.

High-heeled sandals.

The shoes had to have crystal uppers; gold ribbons; and 1-inch high heels, which had to be slender and a vibrant emerald green, matching the color of her eye-catching dress necklace…

As Patrick was thinking this, a magical fluctuation suddenly flashed beside him.

Then Tusu walked past him and strode aggressively toward the figure.

Patrick grabbed his arm.

Tusu felt as if his wrist was encircled by a copper band, and Patrick's grip left half of his body immobile.

He turned around in surprise and found his master watching him quietly, his expression revealing neither joy nor anger.

Tusu was drenched in sweat without realizing it.

Patrick asked softly, "What do you want to do?"

"let me go!"

Tusu tried to struggle again, but Patrick held his hand firmly in place.

"A demon, a six-armed snake-bodied demon!"

The native gritted his teeth and growled, his eyes turning red, "It's her!"

Patrick raised his eyebrows.

He turned his gaze back to the figure in the emerald green backless evening gown. After a moment's thought, the woman, along with the Sacred Demon-Slaying Greatsword leaning against the gambling table beside her, gradually merged with the figure he had seen a few days earlier at the gates of the City of Flame Earth.

"It's her? Are you sure?"

“How is that possible?” Lana said incredulously. “That’s Ivy Beatrice!”

Holding him like that by Patrick, Tusu felt waves of weakness wash over him. Cold sweat poured down his back beneath his tuxedo, and even standing became difficult.

He growled urgently, "It's her! I've already used 'Detect Demon'! It's her, that six-armed demon, I'd recognize her even if she were ashes!"

Patrick thought for a few seconds, then patted Tusu's arm with his other hand.

There was no magical fluctuation, but Tusu felt all the strength drain from his body. He slumped to the ground, about to fall, but Patrick easily caught him on his shoulder.

Tusu gritted his teeth: "What...did you...do...?"

He felt his tongue stuck in his mouth, as heavy as a stone.

Be smarter.

Patrick said softly, "What can you do going up there like that? We're unarmed. Are you planning to scratch her face with your fingernails, or bite her to death?"

Tusu fainted before he could finish listening.

“We don’t need to do it ourselves,” Lana said in a low voice, her voice trembling slightly. “The whole city is hunting down the demon who committed the tavern massacre… Report to the city officials, she’s dead.”

The "Dragon Horn Tavern Massacre" shook the entire city today, truly chilling Lana to the bone.

She no longer wants to recall her original reason for coming here.

—Isn't it good to be alive? Why provoke such a terrifying madman?

Patrick looked at her with the kind of compassion one would show to someone with intellectual disabilities.

“My dear Countess Boto, I had no idea you were so selfless… What good would it do us to do this?”

She composed herself: "What do you want to do?"

Patrick stared at the six-armed serpent demon's retreating figure. "We can't involve the city officials... As planned, we capture her and sell her. The King of Samarachi will offer a good price."

"How much?" Lana asked anxiously.

She whispered, "Think of the hundreds of Samarachi soldiers killed in the camp, and the gangsters in the tavern. Demons are just bloodthirsty lunatics who only know how to kill. Just to be safe—"

She met Patrick's gaze as he turned his head, and his icy stare made her swallow the rest of her words.

Patrick reached out and patted her face, flashing a bright smile: "You're tired, take him back to his room to rest. Be careful, this guy is my carefully crafted trump card."

Lana nervously glanced at "Ivy Beatrice's" retreating figure. Just then, the imposter, who had taken the place of Miss Beatrice, seemed to sense a gaze upon her back, and while sipping her drink, turned to look back.

The demon's emerald green vertical pupils seemed to possess a terrifying, captivating magic, causing Lana to lower her head in a flash, unable to meet her gaze.

Lana's voice was hoarse: "And what about you?"

“Me?” Patrick chuckled easily, “of course I’ll go and take the gamble with her.”

Author's note: It's the weekend, so I'll update a little more.

Chapter 53 The Body as a Gamble

"How about we make something special?"

His emerald green vertical pupils silently gazed from the top of his wine glass at the man opposite him who called himself Patrick.

Patrick's expression seemed veiled by a layer of fog.

Her intuition told her that this person possessed a quality very similar to her own. This quality could be described as "bold and fearless" or "unscrupulous."

She paused for a few seconds: "What are we betting on?"

Patrick said, "I'll bet all my chips on one night of pleasure with you."