On the first night in the Demon King’s territory, there was no bonfire party, only the monotonous sound of pickaxes striking obsidian, and Kel’Thuzad’s mutterings about how much he was spending on candles.

  Sergei stood on the highest terrace of the castle, looking down. The one hundred condemned prisoners, divided into three groups and led by craftsman number 001, were clearing the ruins of the main road like ants. Although they still looked pale, their movements showed a newfound "proactiveness" rarely seen in the imperial prisons—after all, Sergei had promised an extra half-bread of white bread for every piece of magical gold they unearthed.

  “Are you really planning to turn them into miners?” Aria walked onto the terrace and handed Sergei a cup of… hot water.

  “Miners are just the beginning, Arya. In my plan, they are the future ‘senior hardware engineers’.” Sergei took the cup, his monocle reflecting a cold light in the purple moonlight. “We will build the largest ‘magic manufacturing plant’ in all of Aethergard in this corner forgotten by the gods. And now, we need the first batch of start-up capital.”

  “You’re going to rob the Osia Merchant Alliance?”

  “Robbery is inefficient and creates an extremely bad public image.” Sergei flashed a standard business smile. “What we need to talk about is ‘financing.’ Old K, is everything ready?”

  The lich Kel’Thuzad emerged from the shadows, cradling a tightly wrapped black metal box in his arms. He held it carefully in his bony hands, as if it were the head of a god.

  “My lord… as you instructed, I melted down the three purest pieces of ‘magic gold’ from the castle’s foundation, and combined them with the ‘black hole energy model’ you provided. To be honest, the moment this thing came out, I almost thought we were about to ascend to heaven on the spot.”

  Sergei took the box and opened it with a click. Inside the box lay three fist-sized black spheres. They had no luster; instead, they seemed to absorb the surrounding moonlight. Fine, hair-like purple rays could be faintly seen circulating on the surface of the spheres—the stable state of chaotic energy within a specific logical closed loop.

  “What is this? A new type of bomb?” Aria leaned closer, sensing the terrifying energy contained within the sphere.

  “No, this is called a ‘High Energy Density Portable Magic Core.’ In short, Magic Battery 1.0.” Sergei picked up a sphere, flicked it with his fingertip, and a purple light instantly shone through. “The reason why the Ironblood Empire’s steam-powered mechs are as heavy as elephants is because they are still stuck in the stage of burning coal and using crude magic energy radiation. If General Katarina could fit this into her mechs, her army would be as agile as light infantry, and its endurance would increase tenfold.”

  “You’re going to sell it to the Empire?” Aria frowned. “Aren’t you afraid they’ll turn around and attack the Demon King’s territory?”

  “As long as I hold the core ‘underlying code,’ they will be my most loyal paying customers.” Sergei closed the box, a shrewd glint in his eyes. “Moreover, Katarina needs this to save her life. Although I have temporarily suppressed her radiation sickness, she will eventually be petrified if she continues to use the Empire’s leaky old engine.”

  He turned his head and looked toward the direction of the Black Iron Outpost to the north, a darkness too far to reach.

  “Old K, activate the spatial delivery array. Coordinates: Black Iron Outpost, Commander’s Office Desk. Additional information: A three-year equipment rental contract, and a free trial instruction manual for the first month.”

  “My lord… spatial delivery consumes a lot of energy, and our current energy storage…”

  “You can’t catch a wolf without risking your cub.” Sergei said decisively. “After you deliver it, tell those prisoners that starting tomorrow, we’re going to dismantle the outer shell of the ‘chaos reactor’ in the castle’s basement. We’re going to replace the heat pipes there with a central heating system for the entire territory.”

  The lich cried out in agony, “My lord! That’s the face of the Demon King’s city!”

  “Face can’t put food on the table, old man. But in the abyss of minus thirty degrees, heating is faith.”

  Meanwhile, at the Black Iron Outpost.

  General Katarina was staring blankly at the map. The petrification marks on her left cheek had disappeared, but the magical energy within her was still stirring. Just as she was about to rub her temples, the air above her desk suddenly distorted.

  “Spatial wave vibration?” She instantly drew her gun, the dark muzzle pointing into the air. However, there was no assassin; instead, a black metal box fell out of thin air and slammed heavily onto her “Imperial Defense Strategy” manual.

  Katarina paused for three seconds, then carefully used the barrel of her gun to pry open the lid of the box. Beside the shimmering purple sphere lay an exquisitely crafted piece of parchment, its lettering as elegant as a work of art:

  Your Excellency General Katerina:

  Thank you for your initial human resources support to Chaos Reshaping Ltd. Attached is a sample of your requested "Personal Health and Armament Upgrade" solution.

  Product performance: Zero radiation, high output, plug and play.

  Applicable scenarios: Break free from the church's dependence on holy water, or make your opponent question the meaning of life on the battlefield.

  Kind tips: The trial period is thirty days. If you wish to continue your subscription after the trial period expires, please prepare the following resources: 100,000 tons of high-quality iron ore, and... help me block the first wave of "religious audits (heretical trials)" from the Papal States of St. Lawrence.

  By the way, the temperature difference in Demon King's territory has been large recently. If you could send some high-quality coal over, I would give you a 20% discount on your rental fee.

  —Your most reliable strategic partner, Sergei.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Katarina looked at the pulsating purple core, then at the utterly shameless "lease agreement," and burst out laughing in anger. “That bastard… he actually turned geopolitics into a street vendor business.”

  She picked up the core and could feel the pure, stable energy within, devoid of any divine pressure. This was precisely the power source the Ironblood Empire had longed for.

  “Pass down the order,” Katarina said coldly to her adjutant. “Sever all communication crystals along the northern border. Tell those bald monks in St. Lawrence that the far north storm destroyed the base stations, and for the next month, we will not receive any news about ‘Demon King’s Territory’.”

  She paused, then added, “Also, allocate five hundred truckloads of coal from the warehouse and list them under ‘military losses.’ We’re going to the border of the Abyss… for poverty alleviation.”

  The Sun Underground, and the First "All-Staff Motivation Meeting"

  The third underground level of the Demon King’s Castle was once the "Chaos Power Room," a place that struck fear into the hearts of demon generals throughout history.

  The air here, thickened by the high density of magical energy deposits, had a viscous, dark purple hue; inhaling it felt like drinking rancid vodka, causing a burning sensation. A hundred death row inmates stood trembling at the edge of the hall, staring at the massive, cracked spherical reactor before them.

  “Gentlemen, this is our ‘boiler room’.” Sergei stood on the high maintenance platform, holding a precision pressure gauge that had just been removed. His sleeves were rolled up, and his face was smeared with black lubricant. He didn’t look like a demon king; he looked more like an eighth-grade fitter who had just finished his shift on the assembly line.

  “Old K, throw away those ‘pressure relief valves.’ The design from three thousand years ago is too conservative. The demon king of that era only knew how to use them to bombard the Papal States and had no idea what ‘people’s livelihood energy conversion’ meant.”

  Kel’Thuzad floated over tremblingly, carrying a pile of scrap metal: “My lord, if we remove the pressure relief valve, the chaotic energy here will overflow and melt us all into snot!”

  “As long as the logic is closed, the energy will not overflow and will only obey.” Sergei took the broken sword from Aria’s hand—it was now temporarily serving as a "high-energy conduit."

  Sergei jumped off the platform and walked to the core tank of the reactor. His palm pressed against the cold metal shell, and the Black Hole Bracelet instantly emitted a deep rumble.

  [External energy source detected... Chaos Reactor, current power: 1.2%]

  [Execute command: Force overclocking. Target: Heating in residential areas and primary industrial power supply.]

  “Everyone, stand back!”

  With a low shout from Sergei, a deep purple beam of light burst forth from the top of the reactor, but was precisely refracted upon touching the silver patterns on the ceiling, transforming into countless tiny tributaries that rapidly spread along the castle’s long-dried “veins”.

  Boom—! The Demon King’s Castle, which had been dormant for hundreds of years, let out its first heavy sigh.

  “It’s warm now…” Craftsman No. 001 suddenly cried out. He subconsciously touched the stone bricks beneath his feet, and the obsidian, which had been icy cold, was now radiating a warm glow. This heat traveled from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head, giving him the illusion that he was under the southern sun.

  The basement, which was originally cold, damp, and lifeless, suddenly became bright and warm.

  “Okay, the first phase of ‘office environment optimization’ is complete.” Sergei brushed the dust off his hands, jumped onto a wrecked magic vehicle, and looked down at the group of death row inmates whose faces showed shock.

  “Now, let’s begin the meeting.” Without any pleasantries, Sergei cut to the chase: “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that this man can conjure up warmth and blast through space, he must be a monster even more terrifying than the God of Light.”

  “But I tell you, I am not God, nor do I want to be God. God will only tell you what ‘sin’ is, while I will only tell you what ‘money’ is.”

  He pointed to the purple light dancing on the wall: “This heat is not a gift from the gods, but is channeled from the demonic gold you dug out yesterday with your sweat. From today onwards, the Demon King’s Territory will no longer implement the ‘Holy Mark Ranking System,’ and we will implement the ‘Performance-Based Salary System’.”

  “Number 001!”

  “Yes, boss!” The one-eyed craftsman puffed out his chest, his eyes filled with fanaticism.

  “Take your first group and replace all the windows in the main castle with double-glazed reinforced glass. I want to see ‘temperature-controlled dormitories’ within three days. If you do well, each of you will receive an extra can of Imperial red-braised beef—the kind sponsored by General Katarina.”

  Upon hearing the words "canned beef," the prisoners below’s eyes lit up, and their breathing became heavy. In the Valhalla Empire, that was a luxury enjoyed only by nobles and high-ranking generals.

  “Second group, go and clear the training ground on the west side. Arya will lead you through a basic ‘physical fitness development site’. I don’t want cannon fodder who can only swing swords, but ‘super engineers’ who can wear magical exoskeletons and work continuously for twenty hours at high intensity.” Sergei looked at Arya, who returned a helpless look that said, "You’re such a devilish coach."

  “Third group, follow Kel’Thuzad. Go and bring out all those moldy prehistoric chips from the underground warehouse. Old Kel’Thuzad will teach you how to perform a simple ‘enchanted circuit cleaning.’ This is a highly specialized position, and the salary will be doubled.”

  After assigning the tasks, Sergei paused, his tone turning unusually cold. “In the Papal States, you are ‘unrecyclable trash.’ But here with me, you are ‘core assets.’ If anyone dares to slack off, or tries to become a ‘virus’ planted by God—”

  Sergei casually crushed a piece of black iron next to him, and the black hole in his palm instantly annihilated the iron powder into nothingness. “I will make him understand what true ‘permanent deregistration’ means.”

  “Do you understand?!”

  “Understood, boss!”

  The roars of a hundred death row inmates echoed in the basement, even drowning out the roar of the machines. In that moment, gods, faith, and salvation were all cast aside. Faced with the temptations of warmth and canned beef, they discovered that being an "employee" of the devil seemed far more appealing than being a "servant" of God.

  As the meeting ended, the prisoners, led by their foreman, enthusiastically headed to their respective posts. The once gloomy Demon King’s Castle, in just one day, exuded that kind of… anxious yet exciting entrepreneurial atmosphere only found in the CBDs of major cities.

  “You’ve painted a very rosy picture for them.” Arya walked over and stood next to Sergei, looking at the energetic figures. “But our current food reserves won’t last a week.”

  “So I’ve already sent out the ‘salesmen’.” Sergei looked up.

  “You mean Katarina?”

  “No, Katarina is just a ‘B-end client’ (enterprise-level client).” Sergei’s lips curled into a meaningful smile. “To support the cash flow of the entire Demon King’s territory, we need a broader market. Judging by the time, that greedy intelligence agent sent by the ‘Osia Business Alliance’ should be about to step into the ‘traffic trap’ I’ve set.”

  He turned to Kel’Thuzad: “Old Kel’Thuzad, go and hang up that ‘Demon Lord’s Office’ sign at the castle gate. Make the letters big, like this: ‘A leading global provider of cross-dimensional supply chain solutions’.”

  As the lich ground ink, he muttered, “My lord, what do you mean by ‘solution’?”

  “What I mean is,” Sergei said, putting on his monocle and looking deep into his eyes, “that if we don’t solve the problem, we’ll solve the people who raised it.”