Demon Lord

Although Lin Yu had not used much force, the slap had caused no substantial damage to the Director of the Heretic Inquisition.

But... no matter what world one put it in, a slap was an extremely insulting thing.

Moreover, there was no doubt that it was still "damage."

The burning pain on the Director of the Heretic Inquisition's face caused his brain to crash.

What was going on?

Had he not just signed a contract with this "Schreiber" forbidding them from harming each other?

Why could Schreiber slap him?

The Director of the Heretic Inquisition, Netsangi La Victor, was already eighty-six years old. The old fox had never imagined that the Demon Contract could possibly fail.

Could there have been a mistake in my ritual?

With that thought, Netsangi La Victor raised his hand and tried to strike back at Lin Yu.

But the moment he raised his hand, the old man felt resistance coming from the depths of his soul.

That resistance made it extremely difficult for him to violate the contract. If he insisted on doing so, his soul would certainly suffer severe damage from the backlash.

So...

"The contract is fine?"

Lin Yu looked at the puzzled Director of the Heretic Inquisition and nodded with a smile. "Yes, the contract has no problems at all, Mr. Netsangi."

He raised his hand and slapped the other man across the face again.

This fresh, burning pain sent Netsangi's worldview crashing down.

"The contract has no problems at all, so why can you..."

"I have a cognitive disorder. I don't consider what I'm doing right now an attack on you."

Lin Yu said it with a smile.

"How is that possible?!"

Netsangi immediately shouted.

Lin Yu was, of course, talking nonsense. The fundamental reason was that the Demon Contract took