Sitting high on the throne of his Demon Castle, Baal drank the virgin's blood from a horn cup, his face full of mockery.
The blood was a sacrifice from his worshippers in the material realm.
As a legendary pinnacle demon, he was not a myth, but he possessed the ability to accept sacrifices.
Listening to Baal's words and feeling the terrifying pressure emanating from him, the serving great demons and lesser demons below trembled in fear.
Even the Demon Butler, who had reached the level of Upper Gold, trembled as well.
No one dared to make a sound.
Baal's temper was terrible; if he targeted someone to vent his frustrations, the outcome could only be being devoured.
With a contemptuous glance at his trembling subordinates, Baal snorted coldly, stood up from the throne, and walked out of the castle.
The blood-red cloak billowed behind him, and the menacing black armor made him appear even more terrifying.
