No matter when you looked at them, these insects were disgusting—let alone one bigger than a human.
Its enormous green compound eyes reflected a greasy sheen as its head turned. Thick black bristles covered its black-and-white speckled body, while viscous yellow sludge churned within its split mandibles.
It landed not far from Deathstroke and spoke through a mouth mixed with something resembling shit. This was not a sight most people could endure.
"Deathstroke from Another World, I've heard so much about you, haha." Standing upright on two hind legs, the fly rubbed its two forelegs against the wings behind it before extending one for a handshake. "I think I can see what you want to sell me. A fine business indeed."
The fly offered its hand. Was this a test, meant to probe Deathstroke's tolerance?
But Su Ming, who often spent time with Little Cousin, had long since developed a far greater tolerance for filthy things.
He retracted his mask and warmly shook the Demon King's hand with a smile, gripping that slimy claw and pumping it up and down.
"I'm the one who has long admired your name, Beelzebub, primordial demon. Since you're satisfied with the goods here, let's get down to business. I'll sell you all the things this rift spits out in one package. Your cafeteria always needs meat, right? I know fried whole humans are your favorite. If you don't munch down several hundred a day, you feel awful all over."
Bobo and Harley had both slipped away. The scene was too nauseating. Why was yellow fluid still dripping from the fly's mouth? That was not just saliva, was it?
Beelzebub withdrew his foreleg and turned around, shaking his head. He spat a mouthful of yellow sludge into his palm and rubbed his hands together with