Do You Want the Power of a Demon?

If Lin Hao's arrival was excluded, this was just an ordinary morning in San Francisco.

Ellen was a middle-aged white woman with an utterly ordinary family. Her alcoholic husband, rebellious son, and the bank's relentless monthly collection notices had completely worn away her patience.

"Bitch, that nigger next door actually dared to mock me for not knowing how to sort trash. One day, I'm going to blow up her fake tits with a gun!"

Early that morning, Dane heard his wife cursing. Still groggy from his hangover, he roared impatiently from the bedroom, "Then go kill her, or call the cops and have them do it for you!"

"Don't disturb my sleep!"

"Fuck!" Ellen came into the kitchen and brought her knife down on the cutting board, slicing a carrot in two.

If she had not lacked the skills to make a living, been too old and out of shape, and lost the capital to find another meal ticket, Ellen might have killed her perpetually drunken husband first.

While working in the kitchen, Ellen suddenly noticed thick smoke rising from the neighboring home. An idea immediately came to her, and her eyes lit up.

She rushed to the phone and dialed 911.

"I need to report a fire. The house next door is on fire. It looks like someone set it."

"Yes, that's right. It's a Black person."

"Okay, my home is on Kearny Street..."

After hanging up, Ellen wore a smug smile. She quickly burst into the bedroom and rummaged through everything until she found an old video camera.

She wanted to film the bitch next door getting shot dead.

Just thinking about it made her especially happy.

Soon, sirens sounded in the distance, and two fully armed San Francisco police officers stepped out of a patrol car.

"Hey, George, which house did the caller mention?" The burly Jake Brian placed a hand on the holster at his waist and asked his colleague George, who had already drawn his gun.

"It's an arson case. Wherever there's smoke, that's the crime scene."

George had not really listened carefully earlier, but he quickly spotted where the smoke was coming from.

"Look, over there."

This was a row of apartments. The Black neighbor Ellen had mentioned lived to her east, but a light westerly wind was blowing in from the sea. The neighbor had already thrown out the burnt hamburger that had caused the smoke, so her apartment was no longer smoking. Instead, thin wisps of smoke drifted toward the apartment farther east.

Thus, the two San Francisco police officers arrived at the easternmost apartment.

By coincidence, a Black man also lived in this apartment. He was Will Fortson, a twenty-three-year-old Air Force pilot who happened to be home on leave that day.

Both officers had their guns out. The burly Jake Brian led the way, while George covered him from a position slightly behind.

Knock, knock, knock. Jake rapped on the door, though the gun in his hand was raised.

Inside, Will Fortson heard the knocking and called out, "Who is it?"

The two San Francisco police officers did not answer.

Growing wary, Will Fortson went to a cabinet, took out the handgun he legally owned, and cautiously approached the door. He first looked through the peephole and saw two armed police officers.

Frightened, he hurriedly backed away two steps and shouted, "Who are you people?"

Seeing that he dared not open the door immediately, the officers outside raised their guns a little higher.

"Open the door! Open it now!" Jake Brian shouted.

Behind the door, Will Fortson remembered the "friendly reminder" once given to him by an older Black serviceman.

War was not the most terrifying thing. What one truly had to watch out for were American police officers.

The young Will Fortson panicked at once.

"What do you want?" Will shouted anxiously from behind the door. "I'm an Air Force pilot!"

"You? A pilot?" Jake laughed outside the door. "Open the door immediately, or we'll take further measures!"

In his panic, Will Fortson made a decision he would regret for the rest of his life.

He actually stepped forward and foolishly opened the door. He did not raise his handgun, merely held it in his hand.

The moment the door opened, Jake Brian's sharp eyes immediately noticed both his skin color and the gun in his hand.

Thus, gunfire rang out without surprise.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Six shots in a row.

Will Fortson collapsed to the ground at once. Blood spilled out and stained the floor red.

Only then did Jake Brian shout a warning, "Drop the gun! Drop the gun immediately!"

Jake stepped forward and kicked the gun from Will's hand, his own weapon still aimed at the Black man who was still breathing.

George swiftly entered the apartment to search it. He soon returned with a trace of panic, leaned close to Jake's ear, and whispered, "Damn it, he really is an Air Force pilot."

Jake froze. Seeing many residents gathering outside, he pulled back his gun with a livid expression.

"Call an ambulance!"

After saying that, he quickly left Will's apartment, returned to the police car, and immediately called his superior.

"Boss, we've got a problem!" Jake reported honestly. "I shot a nigger, and he turned out to be an Air Force pilot."

"Is he dead?" his superior hurriedly asked.

"Not yet, but it doesn't look good. I..." Jake said weakly, "I fired six shots."

"You idiot!" Though shocked, his superior remained calm, clearly experienced in such matters. He immediately ordered, "Come back at once. Under no circumstances can anyone else see the bodycam footage."

"Okay..." Jake was extremely depressed. This time, he would definitely be put on "forced leave."

Will Fortson's breathing grew weaker where he lay, and his pupils were beginning to lose focus.

He heard his neighbor, Aunt Ellen, mutter complaints nearby. "Stupid cops. They even went to the wrong apartment!"

Will followed the sound and saw Ellen staring at the neighbor next door—a Black woman who had narrowly escaped disaster—with hatred and frustration in her eyes.

Then he understood everything.

"I... I can't breathe!"

These were the last words spoken by George Floyd and Frank Tyson, two Black men who were successively "kneeled to death" by American police.

However, Will Fortson was luckier. Just as he was about to die, a mass of darkness enveloped him.

"Do you want revenge? Do you want the power of a demon?"

"Hehehe, give me your soul!"

On the verge of death, Will Fortson was first stunned, then spoke without hesitation. "I'm willing!"

A pitch-black body, curved horns, enormous scarlet eyes, and those arrogant words—it looked exactly like the Devil of legend.

He was about to die anyway. So what if he sold his soul to the Devil?

Besides, Will Fortson felt he had been damnably wronged!

Being framed would have been one thing, but the police had actually gone after the wrong person. Even if he went to heaven, he would have no one to reason with over this bullshit!

Sell it. He absolutely had to sell it!

The instant he agreed, a floating parchment appeared beside Will's palm. He used all his strength to press a bloody handprint onto it.

After the contract was signed, a multicolored apple covered in rainbow patterns appeared in the demon's hand.

"Eat it, and you'll gain the power of a demon."

The apple appeared directly above Will's mouth. He opened his mouth and swallowed it. Ignoring its nauseating taste, Will soon felt a powerful force surge through his body.

His limbs stretched longer, his body grew thinner, thick black fur covered his skin, his head transformed into a massive leopard's head, and a long tail appeared behind him.

"Huh." Watching all of this through the Little Devil's vision, Lin Hao showed a hint of surprise. "I didn't expect this batch's success rate to be so high."

Aside from his belly, Will Fortson, who had eaten the SMILE Fruit, had transformed entirely into a leopard—a black leopard.

His belly had been black to begin with. Fur or no fur, there was no difference.

"Interesting. Looks like this tool can be used for a while longer." Seeing the black leopard, Lin Hao had some new ideas.

"Go, my servant. Vent your anger to your heart's content!"

"From today onward, you shall worship the great Demon Lord, His Highness the Great Demon Lord."

"As you command, great Demon Lord." Will Fortson was utterly respectful and devout.

At that moment, he abandoned god and turned to worship this great demon lord.

From that moment onward, his life and death would be controlled by Lin Hao, the Great Demon Lord.

The darkness faded. To outsiders, it had lasted less than an instant—a streak of black light too fast for the naked eye to catch.

Will Fortson, restored to human form, waited for the ambulance. Although the wounds on his body had mostly healed from the power he had suddenly gained, and the bullets inside him had been forced out by his muscles, would an ambulance that had come all this way really pass up thousands of dollars in earnings?

That would be far too uncapitalist!

Thus, Will Fortson, who had been preparing to seek revenge immediately, was forcibly strapped to a stretcher by overenthusiastic paramedics and hauled into the ambulance.

"Fuck, my wounds..." Just as Will Fortson was about to break free, he suddenly thought of an even better idea.

The great Demon Lord needed a dazzling entrance.