Chapter 927: Chapter 211: Deep Prison Demon Refiner
The soul is the primary currency of Barto Hell, and the souls of mortals dragged into Hell are known as Prayer rgers, or soul shells.
When a full shipload of Prayer rgers is transported to the Land of Tornt, the Anzu Demon, acting as a bureaucrat, reads the mark of each soul and records the na of the devil responsible for harvesting it in a thick ledger.
According to the relevant provisions of the “Tai Chu Contract” signed by Asmonthy and the Gods, as every shred of remaining personality is slowly stripped from the Prayer rgers, Magic Energy will be released and flow toward the Lord of this level.
The Pain Demon, responsible for interrogation, will rcilessly intimidate and wound the fallen souls, subjecting them to a series of terrifying tortures until every trace of magic extractable has been withdrawn from their shells.
Once the last remnants of humanity are violently torn from the body of a soul shell, this constantly trembling hollow shell will be thrown into a deep pit – such as the terrifying wormhole within the domain of Avernus.
There, they will quickly die, decay, and then be reborn as mindless Inferior Devils.
Hell Lords like Zarriel and phisto stand at the pinnacle of soul harvesting in each level of Hell, enjoying the supply of souls throughout the entire level.
As the Lord of Nine Prisons, Asmonthy stands at the peak of Barto Hell, with all the souls ultimately flowing towards Him.
But as deceitful, cunning, and selfish creatures, devils naturally resist handing over all souls, often skirting the rules and exploiting loopholes for personal gain — such as smuggling souls.
Yulier’s Modin Casino serves Upper-level Devil Valerius, smuggling many souls over decades and gaining nurous benefits, becoming the most prosperous casino in the Twelve Rings East District.
In the basent of Modin Casino, there lies a secret lava river known as the River of Sin, leading directly to the Inner Circle of the Bronze Fortress — Valerius’s mansion.
At this mont, in the underground chamber of Modin Casino, with the sound of disorderly footsteps, the ancient torches on the walls light up one after another, flickering to illuminate the broken bones in the corners, appearing particularly eerie and terrifying.
“Creak, creak…”
The sound of bone joints rubbing together echoes.
Within that shifting shadow, several hideous faces erge, showing obsequious smiles, their withered skins almost blending together.
The entrance to the River of Sin is guarded by four Bone Demon hook soldiers, and anyone who trespasses without a smuggling task will be rcilessly killed — except for their master Yulier.
At this mont, Yulier is clad in a robe, followed by a group of humanoid creatures wearing cloaks that emit a Stealth aura, exuding tempting soul scents, their identities evident — Prayer rgers.
To the Bone Demons, Yulier is about to smuggle fresh Prayer rgers into the Inner Circle for that mysterious Important Figure.
But if they could get even half a Prayer rger out of it, it would be best.
The foremost Bone Demon licks its lips, carefully bows its head, and asks, “Master, you finally arrived, is there a task on the other side?”
Behind the black hood, Yulier’s face is exceptionally grim, and he says impatiently, “Move away quickly! If you delay the major affairs of that Upper-level Devil, you’ll all be buried!”
“Yes, Master, we understand…”
Yulier curses, “Understand, then get out of the way imdiately! Do you want to kick you out?”
The Bone Demons tremble, accompanied by the sound of cracking joints, retreating into the shadows, waiting for the arrival of intruders.
While Yulier leads those humanoid creatures through the stone door, boards a bronze-built ship, and sails on the scorching lava river.
“How much longer till we reach the Inner Circle?”
A voice calls out from the rear of the bronze ship.
Yulier, reverting from his earlier deanor, says fearfully, “It will only take a day to arrive.”
“A day?”
Swashbuckler yanks off his cloak, steps forward, and presses a hand on Yulier’s shoulder, questioning, “From Twelve Rings to the center of the Bronze Fortress, it’s at most ten miles, how could it take so long?
Are you… rallying allies at this mont to gather your subordinates, intending to trap us all at once?”
Being pressed down, Yulier seems to recall sothing, trembling violently, terrified and saying, “Swash… Swashbuckler, sir, you misunderstood!
As you said, ever since signing that contract, we’re like ants on the sa boat; if that Zarriel, no, if that madwoman’s subordinates discover my mark, they will surely throw into the Land of Tornt, suffering millennia of agony!”
After speaking, the devil also unwraps his robe, revealing a scarred upper body that has suffered tornt — and the glowing Piere emblem on his chest.
Swashbuckler glances at the emblem on Yulier’s chest and, rubbing his chin, still sowhat doubtful, “Then why does it take such a long ti?”
Yulier says in a low voice, “Within the Bronze Fortress, there are twelve isolating arrays perating the ground, and anyone attempting to smuggle will likely trigger an array, attracting the attention of the guards.
Thus, the River of Sin can only ander through the weakest points of each array to successfully smuggle into the Inner Circle.”
The little devil, caged in silence, mutters, “Why do I have to go too?”
Swashbuckler’s face shows a gentle smile, “You can also choose to be thrown into the lava river by us.”
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