In Hell—or, for that matter, any Divine Plane—it wasn't unusual for powerful figures to establish their own factions.
Weak Midgod bandit groups and tribes founded by ordinary Highgods were, at their core, much the same.
But what Lord Huosi had just mentioned—having businesses of their own—was an entirely different matter.
Whether they were bandits or tribes, their business model was essentially the same: kill people and take their treasures.
At their core, they relied on slaughter to obtain divine cores, then maintained their numbers with a steady influx of newcomers from the Material Plane.
To own businesses of their own, however, they needed a specialized production chain.
For example, forging artifacts for sale was a relatively simple option. Other possibilities included cultivators who specialized in making Soul Golden Beads or masters who made Metal Lifeforms.
But only families founded by at least Seven-Star Fiends could pull off such ventures. After all, without sufficient strength, their wealth would simply be taken from them.
Besides, these masters were far stronger than ordinary, weaker Highgods.
"Leilin, you can take these artifacts and Metal Lifeforms and study how they're made. Compare them with our own, including their performance and cost."
Huosi ignored Kermon's burst of wild speculation and turned to Leilin first.
"Don't worry, my lord."
Leilin nodded, assuring him it wouldn't be a problem.
"Adkins, take these medicines and study them carefully. See if you can reproduce them." Huosi turned to Adkins.
"Leave it to me, my lord. I'll make sure we can mass-produce them as soon as possible!"
Adkins immediately thumped his chest in assurance. He had experience with this sort of thing.
"Beirut, focus on cultivating for now. Eat divine cores and wait until you break through to Highgod. And you, Pusiluo—you wanted to fight the city lord, didn't you? Go challenge someone at the arena!"
Huosi's gaze finally fell on Beirut and Pusiluo. Beirut wasn't strong enough yet, while Pusiluo was only suited to fighting. Better to let him fight to his heart's content.
"Sure thing, my lord! Leave it to me. I'll be city lord in no time. You, boy—come with me!"
With that, Pusiluo grabbed Kermon and dashed off in a flurry.
"Wait, Lord Pusiluo—"
Kermon didn't even get to finish the word "lord" before Pusiluo dragged him away.
"That kid..." Huosi wasn't bothered by Pusiluo's behavior. "All right, everyone, get ready!"
He took a pile of equipment out of the storage box and began inspecting the Amethyst and Soul Golden Beads.
Amethyst and Soul Golden Beads were essentially the same; both greatly benefited the soul. But Amethyst was difficult to absorb, while Soul Golden Beads were easy to absorb, and their prices differed by a factor of ten.
In Hell, any god capable of refining Soul Golden Beads was bound to be fairly powerful. Refining them also took considerable time and effort.
But none of that was a problem for Huosi. He believed that, given a little time, he could build an automated production line to turn Amethyst directly into Soul Golden Beads.
Then all he would have to do was invest some capital in buying Amethyst and sell the Soul Golden Beads. Making a fortune each day would be just around the corner.
Linley had considered this in the original story, too. But his Sovereign Artifact could only refine Amethyst for his own use; he couldn't condense it into beads to sell.
Of course, later on, they had countless Amethyst from the Amethyst Mountains, so they naturally never lacked money.
Meanwhile, Pusiluo dragged Kermon at a furious pace toward the Challenge Arena.
"Boy, hurry up and explain the rules of these arena matches!"
Pusiluo finally set Kermon down and immediately demanded an answer.
"M-my lord, the matches are generally divided into three tiers: Lowgod, Midgod, and Highgod."
Kermon finally caught his breath, then continued:
"But hardly anyone watches the other two tiers, and their rewards are pitiful. The Highgod matches are always the most popular."
"Oh? There are rewards? How much, exactly?"
Pusiluo rubbed his hands together, eager to get started.
"My lord, I don't really know the exact amounts. I only know that the City Lord's Mansion gives out a corresponding reward for every additional ten-match winning streak."
Kermon continued explaining.
"Oh? What if someone keeps entering the matches? Couldn't they keep collecting rewards?"
Pusiluo thought it over, then asked.
"Not exactly. The City Lord's Mansion hasn't explicitly forbidden people from entering repeatedly, but they have ways of dealing with people who try to milk the system."
"When they encounter someone like that, they'll arrange a powerful opponent for him. You can concede during an arena match, but accidentally killing someone is allowed, too."
"Oh? The City Lord's Mansion sends out powerful fighters!"
Pusiluo narrowed his eyes, looking as though he wanted to give it a try.
"That's right. Generally, once someone passes fifty consecutive wins, the City Lord's Mansion sends a powerful fighter to face him. Otherwise, a hundred-win streak would be far too easy."
Seeing Pusiluo's expression, Kermon explained helplessly.
"That makes sense. That's how it should be."
Pusiluo nodded, understanding.
Sometimes, a fighter might simply get lucky and face nothing but weak opponents. A hundred-win streak like that wouldn't mean much.
So once a fighter reached a certain stage, it was only natural for the city lord to send out one of his subordinates.
Only those who defeated the city lord's subordinates were qualified to challenge the city lord.
"Claire! Claire!"
As the two approached the arena, they heard a huge roar of cheers from inside, even before they entered.
"What's going on?"
Pusiluo turned to Kermon in confusion.
"Lord Pusiluo, someone powerful must have won several matches in a row. That's probably why the audience is cheering."
Kermon wiped the sweat from his forehead as he explained.
God-level beings didn't usually sweat, but Lord Pusiluo had been moving so fast that Kermon had felt like he was flying along the way.
Besides, Pusiluo's nonchalant attitude left him rather unsure of what to expect.
"Are you here to watch or compete? Spectators must pay one hundred Inkstones."
At the arena entrance, two hostesses asked as part of their usual routine.
"This kid's here to watch. I'm competing! How much?"
Pusiluo answered boisterously, like a man with money to burn.
"Um, my lord, there's no entry fee for competing. But the matches are to the death."
The hostess's expression stiffened for a moment before she answered.
"I see. Then hurry up and take me there!"
Pusiluo waved a hand impatiently, eager to get going.
"Of course, my lord. Please follow me."
The hostess immediately smiled and led Pusiluo toward the passage behind the arena. She couldn't help grumbling to herself. Challengers as impatient as Pusiluo were rare.
"My lord, you're in luck. You'll be up after just two more matches."
After leading Pusiluo backstage, the hostess handed him a number token.
"Two more matches? What a pain."
Pusiluo curled his lip. He wanted to go out there right away.
"W-well, my lord, two matches will be over quickly."
The hostess didn't know what to say, so she could only force herself to respond.
Most contestants had to wait several days before they could compete. Pusiluo was lucky to have only two matches ahead of him.
"I know, I know. I was just saying."
Pusiluo waved her away.
Twenty minutes later, a golden-haired young woman killed her opponent once again.
"Claire has successfully defended her place! Congratulations to Claire on her twenty-ninth consecutive victory! Next up is her thirtieth match. Can she continue her winning streak? Let's wait and see!"
The host worked up the crowd and shouted loudly.
"Send out the next one already! No one around here can put up a fight!"
Claire yawned and called out to the host, bored.
As a Highgod whose strength was close to that of a Six-Star Fiend, Claire had lived in Suigetsu City for more than a hundred million years.
From her beginnings as a weak Midgod to her current glory, Claire had saved up quite a bit of money.
But she knew all too well that she wouldn't truly be settled until she owned a house in the city. Otherwise, she was just passing through.
That was why Claire earned money in all sorts of places. She had taken on plenty of Fiend Missions and also worked at various special venues, including the arena.
In theory, the city arena was a way to challenge the city lord. In practice, though, it was usually just a way for the City Lord's Mansion to make money from ticket sales.
After all, more than ten thousand people usually watched each match. At one hundred Inkstones per person per day, that meant a million.
Even so, people kept coming to watch. God-level beings had endless lifespans, and no matter how they spent them, they still craved the excitement of a good fight.
This wasn't Claire's first time entering the arena. Every ten consecutive wins earned a certain amount of prize money.
Of course, at a later stage, the City Lord's Mansion would send out its own powerful fighters. Claire didn't plan on fighting for long—fifty wins at most, then she'd leave.
As for a hundred consecutive wins, she didn't even dare to dream of it. She didn't know how many billions of years had passed since Blue Moon City had last had a hundred-win champion.
A hundred consecutive victories were impossible without the strength of a Six-Star Fiend. Claire knew her limits.
"Looks like Claire can't wait any longer! Then let's welcome our challenger, Pusiluo!"
At the host's announcement, a red-haired, burly man strode into the arena. At last, the impatient Pusiluo had made it inside.
"Honestly, I've been waiting forever. Let's get this started."
Pusiluo stretched casually and looked at Claire.
"Oh, so you're Clade!"
Claire's brows immediately knitted at his words. Pusiluo's attitude left her baffled.
Every challenger before him had looked serious and taken great care not to let down their guard.
But this red-haired giant called Pusiluo was acting as though he didn't care at all, as if fighting her would be as easy as child's play.
Someone like that was either a fool or an overwhelmingly powerful expert—someone she could never hope to defeat.
After living in Hell for so many years, Claire had learned to be cautious. In a situation like this, she wouldn't bet that he was the former.
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