Days after the Demon King fled, the Demon Realm, running smoothly like interlocking gears, continued its orderly operation as usual.

The only difference was that the majestic figure no longer stood on the tower-top balcony.

Cold wind brushed her icy face, hair dancing wildly in the breeze.

Standing on the platform the Demon King favored, Meng Youlian asked without turning, expressionless, "Haven't they found him yet?"

"Sorry, Boss!"

Kneeling on one knee, the Four Frenzied Ones bowed their heads, sweat drenching their brows. They had scoured every corner but found no trace.

Meng Youlian sighed softly, her face a mix of long-sensed complexities.

Finally, her hidden resentment turned to calm acceptance. Her cold command echoed through the skies:

"Enough. If he doesn't wish to be found, even turning the realm upside down won't help. Pass my order: effective immediately, the Demon King enters seclusion. No one unauthorized may step near the palace!"

"Yes!"

While the head maid desperately covered up the Great Demon King’s abrupt departure, he faced his first... robbery!

Baffled, Ink Ash eyed the two masked men who’d blocked him silently. He asked with mild interest, "Gentlemen, what do you want?"

"This path is ours! Pay the toll to pass!"

Their blades glinted fiercely in the sunlight as the burly bandit struck a pose and shouted.

Eyes narrowing slightly—like an elephant watching ants—Ink Ash repeated curiously, "Robbery?"

"Uh... boss, there’s no mountain or trees here. Isn’t that a bit off?" the skinny bandit whispered, glancing around.

The burly man slapped him hard. "Idiot! It’s just an opener. We’re bandits—why fuss over useless details?"

"Y-yes, boss! You—hand over everything valuable, or... you’ll regret it!" the skinny one stammered, voice trembling with false bravado.

Strolling forward leisurely, Ink Ash asked softly, not angry, "Judging by this, you two must be rookies, right?"

"W-what are you doing? Stay put! Don’t move!" the burly bandit yelled, unease creeping in as he watched the calm youth.

Ink Ash casually pressed a finger to the blade’s edge, licked his lips, and said meaningfully, "Relax. I’m in a good mood today—no killing. Want to see a real robbery?"

"W-what?" The skinny bandit stared, stunned by the bright smile, losing all control.

A torrent of murderous intent erupted from Ink Ash. In an instant, demon-like yet grinning, he declared, "Pay up or die. Choose within three seconds~!"

"D-demon!!"

Five seconds later, Ink Ash waved cheerfully at the stripped-bare rookies. He felt another small step toward villainy.

"Is this the continent’s common currency? Looks like the lowest grade..."

Tossing aside useless clothes and knives, he pinched a copper coin against the blazing sun, frustration plain on his face. "Sigh... only ten. So poor. Not enough to enter the city!"

Indeed—our Great Demon King wandered the wilderness because entry cost twenty coppers, and penniless, he’d been turned away.

Cheering up, he solemnly placed the ten coins into his storage ring (worth a fortune). Then he sized up the bandits on the opposite hill. "Forget it. Plenty of robbers nearby... I’ll find a couple more. Otherwise, no money to eat after entering."

After a morning’s "work," Ink Ash entered the town with a comfortable sum. Who knew how many he’d robbed? The hills for miles stood empty.

Seeing the medieval-style buildings, after deep thought, his first concern was: "So... what to eat first?"

"Everything looks crudely made—just black bread and coarse tea... Sigh, poor places are like this, but still disappointing."

Scanning the stall foods, even starving, Ink Ash—used to his head maid’s cooking—felt zero appetite.

The stall owner glared at the complaining youth. Even patient, he snapped, "Hey, brat! You’ve loitered here forever—buy or leave?"

"Oh... one of each, please."

Wandering the rundown town, he tossed back a rock-hard loaf. The Great Demon King, unfed for days, heard his stomach growl.

Helplessly rubbing it, the once tireless warrior—now exhausted—coaxed gently, "Be good, don’t growl... Even if you do, I can’t swallow this junk."

Soon, weary, he lay on lush grass, a dogtail stalk in his mouth, eyes half-closed. "So hungry... no strength left. Could I, Ink Ash, really be the first Demon King to starve because I couldn’t eat?"

Dazed, he seemed back in the palace: the gentle head maid smiling over a feast. Just as he reached for it—crash! The dream shattered.

"Damn it! At least let me take a bite first!"

Waking furious, he almost cursed—then his nose twitched. "Huh? A sweet aroma... Could it be—"

Pupils contracting sharply, the strengthless Demon King blurred—and instantly stood in the kitchen of a dilapidated hut at the town’s edge.

Reverently lifting a wooden bowl of cooled soup, Ink Ash exclaimed, "This... this is the legendary gift of nature—wild vegetable soup?!"