One Silver Coin For a Pound of Demon

Chapter 10

Draft
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——B: You think this is because it's too boring

You think it may be too bored.

If an endeavor is impossible, even the stupidest animal will naturally give up. 177's escape attempts have all been unsuccessful, there was no hope for success. Is it because of this that it became like this?

You have a plan.

There are consummate prayers beside the bathroom window, which the devil can't touch at all. The tiles on all the walls and every floor tile have been knocked on by 177. It would be strange if a trapdoor suddenly appeared, not to mention that it might not be motivated enough to knock on it again. Instead, the door seems to be the best place to break through (it just looks like this, but 177 can't see it anyway). The bathroom door is just an ordinary door. To escape from it, you only need to solve the silver chain.

The shackles that lock 177 have been reinforced by you once, they are strong enough to bring even a pure-blood demon to its knees. Now you regret that you've made it too durable. It doesn't matter, you still know of some places that sell inferior silver chains; stainless steel that's only silver plated.

You spend a few days preparing for it and you encounter some accidents along the way. For example, the guy who sells inferior silver chains actually sold you a genuine product and swore that his stall was purely genuine and has never sold fake or inferior products. It's on the seller's conscience to sell a quality genuine product at the price of only five silver coins. You seem so upright and awe-inspiring that going to such a place to shop would be considered carrying out the responsibility of quality sampling. You had to say some words trying to convince him to sell you a necklace with a key that contains almost no silver.

"My teacher taught me to use inferior silver chains to exercise prayers." You said so.

This sentence is true, you aren't lying. As for what you are going to use this inferior silver chain for, that was another matter.

On the day you bought the silver chain, you replaced the genuine one reinforced with prayers on 177's neck. When the collar was tightened, its eyes seemed to flash sensitively, but it still didn't make any movements that night. The next day you prepared food that could last for a few days, cleaned the bathroom, and made it look like you were going to travel. You tiptoed to wipe the ceiling, and the hem of your clothes swept down on the silver chain. The chain clanked, covering up the sound of a key falling out of your pocket.

177 stared at the key for a few long seconds, it then picked up the key and threw it into its mouth.

You breathe a sigh of relief in your heart. If it really didn't pick it up, you would've had to think of other ways. Dropping the key twice would be particularly unreasonable. In fact, your series of actions such as changing chains and going long distances at night already wasn't very reasonable. There's no other way. You're good at capturing and killing demons, but you're not good at letting them escape without suspicion.

You packed the little suitcase concisely and carried it out of the door.

A paper pigeon was placed on the shelf in the hallway, you stared at the bathroom door through its eyes. This pigeon made from a special parchment paper is called the "holy pigeon". It's a tool used by priests in wartime for reconnoitering. It's concealed and convenient. Unfortunately, it takes a long time to make and has high magic consumption, so it's not popular. You have a lot of time now, and you make a lot when you have nothing more to do. Now it just happens to come in handy.

Seventeen minutes later, the bathroom door opened slowly.

You see 177 open the door cautiously. It opens the door quite slowly to not make sounds. 177 poked its head out and looked around, like a mouse wandering at the entrance of a cave, worried that its predators hadn't left. Its eyes were wide open, glowing red in the dark.

It finally walked out of the bathroom, clad with silver chains on both hands and feet (these are genuine products, you didn't really intend to let it escape without restriction) locking them close together. The necklace on the neck was removed, as expected. Through the open bathroom door, you see that the places where you hid pinhole cameras are ruined, there are none left. Before it escaped, 177 must've tested whether you're watching.

It's smart, you think, and it seems more energetic, which is good. You see 177 walking forward clad in chains, in a way that won't let it hinder movement and make sounds. At first, it staggered, as if it had forgotten how to walk, then its movements became more and more agile and neat, like a machine that's moving more and more smoothly. You saw how its paws with missing back toes walk. The center of 177's gravity leans forward, the sound of the sharp claws landing on the ground won't be heard by the parrot across the window sill. Incredibly, you can see traces of militarization in its actions.

This is quite surprising; the demon army is unorganized. It isn't so much an army, as it is a humanoid horde that relies on instinct. Most demon soldiers have no tactics. They're good at swarming and fighting indiscriminately. Anyway, they're fertile and grow fast, like a den of fierce rabbits. You suspect 177's age to be the same as its appearance, rather than like other half-blood demons who can grow into sturdy men in less than ten years. It might've had time to learn from the human army in the second half of its twenties or the first half of its thirties.

It hesitated for a moment in the hallway leading to the other rooms but finally didn't open the door. Quite wise, in addition to the entrance and the door, the hallway leading to other parts of the house has a fairly complete defense system. Even if 177 hit the door with all its strength, it wouldn't be able to get anything from your house. It came to the front door, right in front of it, and stood there for a full five minutes.

177 has his back facing the holy pigeon, you can't see its expression, only its movements. Its hands raised and lowered, stretching out and retracting, and squeezing into a fist by its side—another action that was remarkably human-like. Normal demons wouldn't make a fist, the action could cause their claws to stab themselves. It had obviously spent so much time on escaping, but it was wasting time standing and loitering in place one step away from success, it was as if it's afraid of something. You don't know what it is afraid of. It has seen what it looked like outside when you brought it back, hasn't it?

In the sixth minute, it finally held the doorknob and turned it slowly. The door opened, it was not locked.

Another holy pigeon rests on a branch in the garden, and with it, you can see 177's face. There's no fear in its expression, there's only a kind of "uncertainty" as if it's not clear what it's doing. It slowly moved forward one foot, watching its sharp toe point at the square pad outside the house, and slowly lowered it. 177 blinked and looked at his feet as if surprised why nothing happened.

The night wind blew at the weather vane on the house and at the wind chime made of old bottle caps at the window sill of the neighbor's house. Jingle! 177 jumped up and tripped over the chain. It fell back to your floor, waving its hands in the air, scratching the door and door frame frantically like a cat being thrown in the water. Your door has an exorcism prayer, but it still hugs the door panel, as if falling is a fate more terrible than being burned in the flesh by prayer. This needless struggle lasted for but a few seconds, it finally had to let go and fell to the ground.

177 turned into a strange package that automatically folded when it landed. It desperately rolled into a ball, hugging its head, arching its back, its knees pressed against its chest. From the muscles of its back, you can see its heart jumping wildly. It was trembling, but it didn't gasp. On the contrary, it seemed to be trying to hide its breath, curling up and then curling up even more, trying to disappear to the floor. The muscles on 177's body are so tight that you suspect that even if you kick it hard at this time, you can only kick it to the side instead of successfully kicking the package away.

Bruise.

Without thinking, a picture like this formed in your mind. You think of the bruises on 177's knees. You've seen them appear twice, once on the night you fucked it four times, and once on the first day you met it. You recalled the first day, 177's belly and back had large patches of blue-purple, like a crushed fruit, the color was very dark, and the inside was rotten.

Judging from the size and location of those traces, presumably such a "package" could still be kicked away.

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PastTimer: Suprise update! Don't ask me how I found the motivation.