Half-step Purgatory

Durin stroked the black cat on the armrest of his chair, sitting on the black leather sofa. Through the glasses perched on his nose, his gaze passed over the long table in front of him and settled on the man kneeling on the carpet:
"I understand, you've made money in Naples, your business has been very successful, and you've led a happy life. You've had those secret police, friends in both the law and the underground, and even the Royal Family speaking on your behalf."
"You don't need a friend like me, I know that. You're afraid of owing me a favor, and you don't want to get involved in troubles."
"But now you come to me and say, 'I beg you, Mr. Durin of the Corleon family, please help me seek justice, so that my life and my family will not suffer and sink into despair.'
Yet, in your eyes, I was nothing more than a second-rate artist involved in movies and music. Even at the brink of death, you still show me such disrespect, not even willing to call me by my title... Keeper of Secrets."

Durin's Diary

The middle-aged church member gasped in shock, looking at the withered face before him and exclaimed, "It's the Withered Demon Lord!"


What on earth is the Withered Demon Lord.


Durin didn't think this guy was strong at all; he just seemed rather resilient to being kicked—the kick he had just delivered was full force, and under normal circumstances, this fellow would have been long dead.


However, it could also be because this guy, like Durin now, was considered to be among the Undead, so even that kick couldn't kill him.


"The Withered Demon Lord is one of the Great Demons under the Compassionate Grandmother, very... dangerous..." the middle-aged church member started saying but then fell silent as he looked at the so-called Demon Lord before him, who showed no sign of resistance.


You should probably go find the Bishops.


Chapter 295: Blockade