The Demon King Always Wants to Surrender Chapter 6

The Demon King Always Wants to Surrender 

Chapter 6

Augustus was obviously a master of time management. In no time at all, he had finished dealing with the Bishop and his party. When he sat back down in front of Anomis, his face was still splattered with steaming hot blood. But he also seemed to deliberately keep the Demon King waiting, unhurriedly taking a hot towel from his attendant’s hands and carefully wiping his face clean. The towel was dipped into the bronze basin, dyeing the water a faint red.

Only after finishing all this did Augustus clasp his hands together and place them on his knees, leaning forward slightly in his sitting posture, like a taut black panther ready to tear the prey before him to pieces at any moment.

“You want a ceasefire agreement?” 

Lead-gray eyes coldly sizing up the Demon King. Perhaps those low-level little knights would fear the Demon King, but as one of the Empire’s current most powerful individuals, Augustus had absolute confidence.

“You want it, so I must give it?”

Here it comes, Noah thought. The classic pressure segment. This was the Empire’s negotiation style – ramping up the pressure from the start. Whether the opponent became angry or fearful, any emotional fluctuation meant vulnerabilities would appear. The negotiators would use this to observe details, step by step approaching the bottom line, ruthlessly tearing at every possible benefit. Augustus was exactly this type of person, a pure political animal who wouldn’t let any emotions affect his judgment. Even if he had been saved by the Demon King just moments before, the next second he could attack so mercilessly. Clearly, he was the one who most wanted the ceasefire agreement, yet he could put on an air of bestowing favors. Politicians really have dirty hearts.

So then, how would His Majesty the Demon King respond? Standing behind the Grand Prince, Noah curiously cast his gaze toward Anomis—

Anomis was busy wolfing down food. …

He was actually really wolfing down food! Although there was indeed some food placed on the coffee table, that was all symbolic! Aren’t negotiations always like this? The table is set with an array of beautiful food, but the visiting nobles only pick up champagne or red wine, taking shallow sips while chatting and closing deal after deal. There couldn’t really be someone who came to wolf down food, right? Right?

Even Augustus, renowned for his iron blood, couldn’t help but waver: Was it really that fragrant? The army on campaign kept everything simple, naturally only carrying food that stored well but tasted terrible. Moreover, Augustus himself had no habit of indulging in pleasures and couldn’t possibly give himself special treatment. Even considering the need to pressure the Demon King, the food standards had been lowered again and again, now only consisting of sour black bread and pickled fatty meat. This made him uncertain about how to proceed with the negotiations.

How could they know that because he didn’t dare eat Demon Clan food (afraid of eating humans), Anomis had been hungry for several days. Finally encountering safe food, he was so moved he almost cried. Right now, he was like a child who accidentally sat at the adults’ table during New Year’s – who cares what they’re saying, just focus on eating!

Regardless, Augustus still found his opening point:

 “How comforting to see that even such crude food can be considered delicious delicacies to the Demon Clan.”

At this moment, Anomis finally filled himself halfway and spared some attention.

 “Crude?” 

Augustus waited for the Demon King to become angry. 

“It’s alright.” 

Anomis picked up a few more slices of pickled fatty meat and placed them in the bread, his cheeks bulging.

 “There’s nothing crude or not crude about it. Every grain of food is grown through hard work and should be treasured. Where we come from, everyone is educated this way.”

Augustus fell into silence. This wasn’t just because the Demon King showed himself to be measured and neither humble nor arrogant. More importantly, Augustus himself actually strongly agreed with this viewpoint.

He glanced at the Hero who couldn’t suppress his laughter. The latter immediately turned his head away, but his shoulders still shook. After deciding to dock this guy’s pay, Augustus picked up his table knife and began spreading pickled fatty meat on the black bread. Anomis paused in his movements. What? So it wasn’t eaten like a sandwich after all?

“The evolution speed of the Demon Clan is indeed beyond imagination,” 

the Grand Prince mused. 

“Several thousand years ago, you were nothing but wild beasts living on raw meat and blood, hiding in shameful darkness, twisted like maggots. Ever since defiling humans and bearing offspring, you’ve stolen a bit of cunning.” 

“Is that so?” 

Anomis had heard a different version among the Demon Clan. Augustus raised an eyebrow. 

“Otherwise?”

Anyway, Seleinu had told him: 

“Humans are nothing but an inferior type of Demon Clan.” 

Anomis shook his head, deciding to let this statement rot in his stomach.

But Augustus had no intention of letting this slide. He rotated his table knife, his tone authoritative and forceful:

 “Speak up.” 

“Documentary records often contain certain biases due to the chronicler’s subjective stance…” 

Anomis was being as diplomatic as possible – he wasn’t good at dealing with such forceful people. 

“You mean the Empire falsified history?” 

“…I mean the Demon Clan.”

Facing the Grand Prince’s suspicious gaze, having come this far, Anomis could only improvise:

 “In Demon Clan history, there were once two such countries: one called Egypt, another called Hittite.

” The Empire wouldn’t verify this anyway, right? If asked, it’s just Demon Clan unofficial history.”

“Between them was a famous battle we call the ‘Battle of Kadesh.'” 

The Grand Prince quietly watched him, neither approving nor disapproving. The Hero tilted his head slightly, shifting his weight to change his stance. 

“After the war ended, Egypt’s Ramesses II declared, ‘We beat the Hittites badly.’ The Hittite Muwatalli II stated emphatically, ‘Egypt was beaten to a pulp.’ After comparing both sides’ records, we found that the only thing that could be confirmed was that they dejectedly signed a ceasefire agreement…” 

Perfect, he even managed to steer the topic back to the ceasefire agreement! 

Applause!

“I understand.” 

The Grand Prince looked thoughtful. 

“You’re beating around the bush saying the Empire’s history is fake.”

 “…” 

“You’re doing this on purpose!!!”

“If you were human, based on these slanderous remarks against the Empire alone, I would sentence you to death.” 

This statement made Anomis’s heart skip a beat, and his desire to confess his human identity immediately faded by more than half. That’s right – he could sit at the negotiation table precisely because people took him for the Demon King. 

“But considering that the Demon Clan has yet to be civilized, this is understandable, so I’ll give you a chance.” 

“Kneel down and swear loyalty to me.” 

“When you kneel down, you are the defeated Demon King; when you stand up, you will be the guardian of the Holy Empire’s vassal kingdom.” 

This was already quite generous terms, considering humanity’s attitude toward the Demon Clan.

 “I promise that from now on, there will be no more war in your territory.”

“…”

Anomis couldn’t answer this. Setting aside everything else, he simply didn’t dare imagine what would happen if Seleinu discovered that the Demon Clan had become vassals to humans… He’d probably chase him to the ends of the earth to grind his bones to dust.

The Demon King’s silence fell differently in the Grand Prince’s eyes. That’s right, Augustus knew the Demon King was someone who placed life and death beyond consideration. If not, how could he risk himself just for a ceasefire agreement? This was truly regrettable… Ever since hearing Noah recount his encounter with the Demon King, he had been tempted to recruit him. After this face-to-face conversation, even more so. Vision, perspective, courage, stress resistance – not one aspect wasn’t top-tier. If he could recruit him to his side, it would certainly be tremendous help for reforming the Empire. Too bad he was a Demon Clan member unwilling to surrender.

Then only one plan remained. Augustus put down his table knife and said flatly:

 “I have a daughter.”

Anomis nearly choked on the black bread and frantically gulped water. After some thought, his expression became strange. In history, this routine was already old as dirt: marry your daughter off to another territory, wait for her to bear an heir, then assassinate all other competitors. Thus, the territory would return to your own family’s hands.

“Three years old this year,”

Augustus added. Anomis started coughing from choking. What a beast!

As if just to appreciate the Demon King’s disheveled appearance, only then did Augustus say with satisfaction and unhurriedly: 

“She happens to need an internal affairs official to tell bedtime stories.”

This meant taking the Demon King away as a hostage.

If it were other transmigrators, they’d probably be shouting long live – they could go live in the human Empire! But Anomis calmly pressed his legs together and politely inquired:

 “To be your internal affairs official, do I still need to be castrated?”

 “It seems the Demon King also has some understanding of the Empire.”

For the first time, Augustus smiled, though not obviously. Noah was already laughing so hard his wound split open, grimacing as he covered his wound.

He knew it! From Rome to Byzantium to the Ottomans, and from the Great Qin Empire’s lineage down to the Qing Dynasty, positions that could approach the women’s quarters – not one didn’t involve ball removal! Although staying alive was indeed very important, Anomis really didn’t want to part with his balls. …Speaking of which, why was it always the other side making demands?

“I thought the one who needs the ceasefire agreement more right now is you.” 

Compared to the Grand Prince’s aggressive pressing, the Demon King’s rebuttal seemed overly gentle. Rather than a sovereign, he was perhaps more like a scholar.

 “Time is very important. You need to quickly extract yourself from this war and return to the Empire to compete for succession rights.” 

Augustus remained unmoved. 

“If I didn’t have confidence in victory, my army wouldn’t have come here.” 

The implication being: if you don’t accept the vassal conditions, then we’ll fight until you’re willing to accept. 

“Yes, you will indeed be victorious.” 

Anomis didn’t doubt this point.

“But there will also be losses. Your soldiers will suffer casualties, morale will decline. At the current juncture, any mistake will affect the direction of the Empire’s coming civil war. If we can have a ceasefire—” 

“This is exactly what I proposed: swear loyalty to me.”

 Augustus interrupted.

“…Is it really that important?” 

Anomis truly couldn’t understand – wouldn’t fewer deaths be better?

 “Compared to the lives of thousands or tens of thousands of soldiers, you need a Demon Clan member’s loyalty more?”

 “If I can obtain a Demon King’s loyalty,” 

Augustus’s expression was stern,

“then this is the necessary cost.”

Necessary cost. Anomis chewed on these words. We are the cost. Those thousands, tens of thousands of ordinary people like me, ordinary people who are already doing everything they can just to stay alive – we are the cost. He’d had enough.

Anomis wiped his mouth clean with his napkin, stared intently at Augustus, stood up, and rudely threw the napkin on the table. Noah instinctively stepped forward but was stopped by Augustus’s wave, who coldly watched the Demon King leave the sofa and walk to the window. The airship leisurely floated in the high sky. Bird shadows swept past the window frame, casting deep and shallow shadows on the Demon King’s body.

“Looking down from here, humans must appear very small, right?” 

The Demon King turned back around. In the backlit shadows, those blood-stained red eyes burned like wildfire, making even Augustus momentarily stunned.

 “Throwing your soldiers into battle is like throwing kindling into a fire – an Empire fueled by blood must be very great, right?”

“You kneel down, and they won’t have to die,” 

Augustus emphasized. 

“That’s a lie.” 

Anomis stated the facts.

 “In your eyes, humans are expendable materials, and in your eyes, the Demon Clan is even lower. You want me to swear loyalty, then drive the Demon Clan to die for a victory that doesn’t belong to them.” 

And those humans too, he thought – victory doesn’t belong to them either. 

“Therefore, I refuse.” 

“Short-term sacrifice in exchange for lasting peace – can’t even the Demon King understand something so simple?” 

“How could compromise possibly achieve peace?”

Anomis stared into those gloomy gray eyes, seeing through them countless politicians, ambitious schemers, and conspirators throughout history. 

“Everything that cannot be obtained on the battlefield is even more impossible to obtain at the negotiation table. You want my answer? Then listen well—”

Even with his power sealed by the Hero and his life held in the Empire’s hands, the Demon King showed no fear whatsoever. His words carried the weight of a thousand tons, with the entire world’s history behind him, as if countless people were borrowing his voice to speak these resounding words:

“Equal peace or resistance to the end – there is no third path.” 

“This is my answer.”

He alone was worth a thousand troops.