This Punch, I Promised You

Russell did not know whether Mammon and Satan were related by blood. Perhaps Son of Hell was merely a title, an office of Hell.

If that was the case, one only had to look at Mammon's intelligence to know that Satan had definitely pulled some strings to make him the Son of Hell.

After all, the Lord of Hell would never abdicate. An heir who was too clever would create a great deal of trouble out of thin air. A dumber one was better.

That said, Mammon was indeed not very smart, but his strength was beyond reproach. Even with only his will descending into the mortal world, his full-power outburst was enough to leave Russell and Gabriel scrambling.

Within the abyss, all kinds of negative energy surged wildly. Evil thoughts that lured people into depravity and madness twisted into shadowy arms that flailed across the sky.

Mammon used his own body as a vessel to draw the negative energy of countless undead into himself.

These undead had all suffered endless torment because of him, and thus harbored incomparably intense hatred toward him. Their resentment stacked and merged together, adding corrosive and untouchable properties to the already exaggerated energy.

Mammon's body changed form again, becoming terrifying and enormous, black from head to toe as dark radiance spilled outward. He gathered the power of the abyss and ignited it with his own flames, continuously creating palms brimming with corruption.

After an enraged howl, the number of pitch-black arms increased tenfold in one stroke. Their twisted, writhing appearance gave Russell an indescribable sense of horror.

It looked pretty damn powerful!

Russell swung the Black Flame Greatsword, severing the writhing arms around him. He flapped his wings and flew to Gabriel's side. "Archangel, Dark Energy is nourishment for that thing down there. I'll