Before the broken drawbridge of the Demon King’s castle, a luxurious convoy pulled by six "earth-walking beasts" with dragon horns slowly came to a stop. The huge golden scales family crest on the carriages stood out conspicuously against the purple mist of the abyss. The Osia Business Alliance, a behemoth that controlled 40 percent of the world’s circulating currency, arrived right on time.

  “Baggins said that madman turned this place into a factory?”

  Executor Malro—a man so obese that even his expensive silk tunic seemed about to burst—stumbled down from the carriage, his nose smeared with a perfumed handkerchief. He glanced around, his initially disdainful gaze instantly narrowing to pinpoints when he saw the neatly arranged, gleaming purple magical defensive cannons on the city walls. Those cannon muzzles weren’t just decorations; the energy fluctuations they emitted made the "evil-repelling core" in his pocket scream wildly.

  “Mr. Malraux, welcome to Chaos Reshaping Ltd.” Sergei stood before the castle gates, wearing a black trench coat that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, the collar buttoned tightly to the top. Aria stood behind him, her broken sword sheathed, yet it resembled a deadly fang ready to spring forth at any moment.

  “Mr. Sergei… or should I call you the ‘Thirteenth Demon King’?” Malro quickly put on a professional fake smile, his fat jiggling with laughter. “Your opening ceremony was quite a spectacle; even the Cardinal of St. Lawrence is inquiring about the air quality here.”

  “Call me General Manager Xie, or Executive Officer.” Sergei stepped aside and gestured for them to proceed. “The Cardinal wants to inquire about the tax policies here. Please, the tea is getting cold, and our negotiation efficiency needs to be kept at its highest level.”

  The negotiating table was set in the castle’s courtyard, which was originally a square for executing traitors, but now it was furnished with a simple obsidian table.

  After settling down, Malro eagerly threw out his "trump card": “Mr. Xie, let’s get straight to the point. The Osia Merchant Alliance doesn’t care who becomes the Demon King; we only care about profits. We are very interested in the ‘battery’ you gave to Katarina. If you are willing to transfer the technology patent, the Merchant Alliance can lobby the Papal States to drop the heretical trial against you.”

  “Mr. Malraux, have you been in the business world for too long and forgotten that ‘redemption’ is not discounted in a theocratic country?” Sergei sneered, took out a transparent ring from under the table, and gently pushed it to the center of the table. The ring contained no magic, but was covered with dense geometric runes.

  “What is this? A child’s toy?” Malro raised an eyebrow.

  “This is called a ‘one-way logic interface’,” Sergei said, gesturing for Aria to demonstrate.

  Arya stepped forward and slipped the ring onto her wrist. In an instant, a faint but pure elemental light surged from her body, filtered through the ring, and condensed into a perfect defensive light shield in the air.

  Malro jumped to his feet, his movements surprisingly quick for a fat man: “This is impossible! She is the Child of Light, and to use divine magic she needs to pray to Sol to receive divine power in return! But just now… she didn’t pray at all!”

  “That’s the problem, Mr. Malraux.” Sergei tapped the table. “The Seven Gods monopolize the ‘wholesale rights’ of energy. Mortals who want power have to give up their souls, their faith, and their taxes. But my little toy can bypass the gods’ approval and extract energy directly from elemental fragments in the environment. Although the total amount is not large, it does not require ‘stigmata’ or ‘authorization’ from clergy.”

  Malro’s breathing became heavy. As a merchant, he instantly saw through the terrifying value behind this thing—if ordinary caravan guards, or even ordinary civilians, could obtain simple divine magical effects through this device, then the Church’s "monopoly on miracles" on which it depended for survival would completely collapse.

  “You’re going to sell it to us?” Malraux’s voice trembled.

  “Sell?” Sergei asked as if he had heard a joke. “No, Mr. Malraux. Technology is priceless; I only offer subscriptions.” He opened a thick contract and pushed it in front of Malraux: “First, the Osia Merchant Alliance must establish three raw material transfer stations with a capacity of 10,000 tons each in the Demon King’s Territory within three months.”

  “Second, you must allocate 15 percent of all your intercontinental trade to my ‘Abyss Logistics Trunk Line’.”

  “Third, in return, I will authorize you as the sole distributor of this ‘logic loop’ in the West. But remember, every time a user activates a device, they will have to pay a ‘traffic fee’ to my server.”

  “Data usage fee?” Malro didn’t understand the term at all.

  “It’s a digital version of the faith tax, except this time I’m the one collecting the tax.” Sergei’s eyes were deep. “Mr. Malraux, you’re not buying a product; you’re buying a ticket to the ‘post-theocratic era.’ If you don’t sign, I’ll contact Helena tomorrow.”

  Malraux stared at the complex terms of the contract, cold sweat trickling down his temples. He knew this was an absolute devil’s contract; once signed, the Osia Merchant Alliance would be completely bound to Sergei’s chariot, becoming a thorn in the side of the Papal States.

  But… that thrill of bypassing the gods and directly controlling power was a deadly poison for merchants who pursued absolute freedom and profit.

  “…We need to test the samples first,” Malraux said through gritted teeth.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Of course, we even offer a ‘seven-day money-back guarantee’.” Sergei stood up, a confident smile on his face. “But I suggest you hurry. Just ten minutes ago, my ‘Security Manager,’ Aria, reminded me that St. Lawrence’s ‘Paladin Reserve’ has entered the borders of Valhalla. You don’t want to see your partner burned at the stake before you’ve even made any money, do you?”

  Malraux looked up abruptly: “How could the Papal States act so quickly?”

  “Because even gods have KPI pressure, Mr. Malraux.” Sergei looked out at the purple wilderness beyond the castle, where on the distant horizon, a faint golden light was tearing through the clouds. “Since they want to play, then we’ll show them what a ‘demon army armed with capital’ really looks like.”

  When the Holy Knights Reserve of the Papal States of St. Lawrence arrived at the edge of the abyss, the land was in a state of extremely discordant activity. Leading the procession was Inquisitor Julius. He wore a pure white robe studded with diamonds, held a cross scepter symbolizing divine authority, and his unicorn’s every step purified the purple mist several meters around it. Behind him, fifty heavily armored paladins stood in two rows, their eyes beneath their helmets fanatical and empty, the rhythmic clatter of their horses echoing across the wilderness like the beat of some sacred drum.

  “Blasphemy.” Julius stopped the unicorn, looking at the brightly lit Demon King’s castle on the distant horizon, his brows furrowed so deeply they could trap a fly. “Sergei not only didn’t rot in the darkness, but instead turned the Demon King’s territory into a giant… hair salon?” From his perspective, the dense purple searchlights of the Demon King’s Castle did indeed resemble some kind of large entertainment venue.

  “Your Honor,” a lieutenant rode up, his voice tinged with unease, “according to our detection, the spatial fluctuations in that area are extremely intense. The Osia Merchant Alliance’s convoy is inside. Should we charge straight in?”

  “Those profit-driven parasites of the Merchant Alliance will be dealt with later.” Julius raised his scepter, golden light gathering at its top. “By the Pope’s decree, all pillars erected by Sergei shall fall; all fires ignited by Sergei shall be extinguished. All troops, launch an assault and execute the ‘Purification Audit’!”

  The paladins roared in unison, their battle aura transforming into a golden torrent that surged toward the Demon King’s castle.

  Meanwhile, in the Demon King's Castle control room.

  Sergei was sitting in front of the screen with his legs crossed, holding a box of military-grade compressed biscuits sponsored by Katarina, looking as relaxed as if he were watching a midnight movie.

  “Boss, they’ve entered.” Kel’Thuzad excitedly rubbed his bony hands together. “Should we just use ‘Black Hole Mines’ to blow them up from the outside?”

  “No, Old K. To blow them up would be to make them martyrs, that would be too easy on them.” Sergei pointed to the various energy values displayed on the screen. “We need to dismantle their faith ‘technically.’ Arya, are you ready to activate Antenna 1?”

  Arya stood on the rooftop, holding the modified "Logic Interface" in her hand. She took a deep breath and nodded: “Coordinates locked, ready to ‘spread spectrum interference’ at any time.”

  Julius, the Inquisitor at the forefront, could already feel the warmth emanating from the Demon King’s castle. He raised his scepter high, chanting an epic purification spell: “—Light of Sol, illuminate the universe! Dispel illusion, descend judgment!” Based on past experience, this strike would cause the heretical energy within a radius of a hundred miles to melt away as quickly as snow hitting a hot iron.

  However, just as the golden light was about to fall, the three spires at the top of the Demon King’s castle suddenly lit up with strange dark purple arcs of electricity.

  [Scanning external divine spell frequencies... Frequency: 2.4GHz (Holy Light band)...]

  [Interference strategy employed: Same-frequency offsetting.]

  Buzz—! A deep, chilling buzzing sound instantly filled the entire battlefield.

  Julius was horrified to discover that the golden light at the top of his scepter did not shoot out, but instead flickered violently a few times like a light bulb that had lost power, and then… went out with a "poof."

  “What’s going on? My senses… have been cut off?” Not only him, but the fifty paladins charging behind him were also thrown into chaos. The holy light defense layer that they had maintained on their armor was now shaking violently like ripples on water, eventually turning into countless tiny golden spots of light that dissipated in the cold wind.

  “Your Honor! My ‘divine grace’ has failed!”

  “I can’t contact God’s Kingdom anymore! The air here… is rejecting my prayers!”

  “It’s not the air that’s rejecting you.” Sergei’s voice echoed across the entire plain through the amplified magic array, carrying the indifference and mockery characteristic of a professional manager: “It’s your ‘supplier’ server that’s crashed. Inquisitor, welcome to the Demon Lord’s Territory—the only ‘Godless Signal Zone’ in all of Aethergard.”

  “Nonsense! Sergei, you fallen demon!” Julius chanted angrily again, but no matter how much magic he tried to unleash, the divine spells were like stones sinking into the sea, completely unresponsive.

  “Don’t waste your energy.” Sergei pushed open the window and looked down at the group of paladins who had stopped and were filled with fear. “The so-called divine magic is nothing more than ‘cloud operations’ using faith frequencies. I just set up three high-powered chaos interference towers here to fill up the communication bandwidth between you and Sol.”

  He leaped and landed precisely on the edge of the city wall, looking down at Julius below. “In my territory, the laws of physics supersede religious doctrines. Without my authorization, even sunlight must line up to enter. Julius, without your ‘divine power,’ you are nothing more than a middle-aged man in heavy armor, moving slowly.”

  “Arya, take them for an exit interview.” As soon as she finished speaking, a silver streak of light swept down from the city wall. The broken sword in Aria’s hand was now wreathed in pure chaotic purple. She didn’t use any fancy moves, just a simple charge, and the shockwave from the sword’s edge knocked the three paladins at the front, horse and all, to the ground.

  Without the protection of holy light, these so-called elite knights were as fragile as paper dolls in front of Aria, who had awakened her "self-awareness".

  “This…this is the power of chaos?” Julius watched as his subordinates were easily defeated by a young girl, and the foundation of his faith cracked at that moment. His proud "divine grace" seemed so powerless in the face of this pile of cold, impersonal interference towers and geometric runes.

  “No, Julius.” Sergei landed on the ground and walked towards him step by step. “This is called ‘technological monopoly.’ Instead of praying to that god who never answers you, why not consider… switching jobs to me? My five benefits and one housing fund (water, fire, wood, metal, and earth elemental shields) are effective in real time.”

  Julius looked into Sergei’s deep, rational, and mocking eyes, and the scepter in his hand fell limply to the ground. The paladins behind him were either mourning in anguish or looking around in bewilderment. This was the most shocking scene in the first volume: the majesty of divine authority, suppressed by industrialization and logic, revealed for the first time its absurd and fragile nature before mortals.