Demons also have emotions and reactions, and they can spread news quickly, much faster than he had anticipated.
Each time he killed a demon, the remaining demons would become more vigilant and increasingly cruel.
The demons he had yet to hunt would only become harder to deal with, and they might even band together for a fierce retaliation.
What worried him even more was that with the death of the goat demon, word would soon spread.
The next time they ambushed him, it wouldn't be ordinary demons anymore, but powerful archdemons.
Edward didn't want to continue living in fear, constantly worried about demonic revenge.
He needed more demon life force, more power.
Only by becoming stronger could he truly escape this situation and survive the wrath of the demons.
Edward stood up and slowly walked out of the courtyard.
At this moment, Rose Street had gathered quite a few onlookers, peeking from a distance.
The scuffle between the patrol soldiers—especially when it was "dog-eat-dog"—was a rare spectacle and naturally attracted a crowd.
Edward glanced at the tied-up patrol soldiers, and said calmly, "Let them go."
"Understood," Richard nodded and quickly gestured to the other patrolmen to untie them.
Just as Richard's gaze left Edward, he suddenly frowned, as if caught in some internal conflict.
After a moment, he gritted his teeth and handed over a blood-stained, torn-open letter.
"This fell out of one of their pockets."
Edward frowned, taking the letter and slowly unfolded it.
"Little Creek Village."
Edward stared at those words.
Richard had obviously realized the danger, which was why he hesitated before giving the letter to Edward.
In a low voice, Richard spoke, his expression grave.
"If we ignore their provocation, they'll eventually come into the town to find you. Shouldn't we ask Secretary Jack for help?"
Edward's frown deepened as a sense of foreboding washed over him.
The letter was both a threat and a challenge.
After a moment of silence, Edward replied quietly, "No, don't go to Secretary Jack."
Secretary Jack had always looked after Edward, treating him like a nephew.
Thanks to this connection, Edward could probably even ask one of the formidable government warriors to step in if he wanted.
At that moment, Jefferson staggered to his feet, leaning against a wall, blood dripping from his mouth as he let out a raspy laugh.
"Secretary Jack already told you—you're not commanding any patrol soldiers now.
You can stay obediently in town. Your life is protected, but as for those worthless lives, they're expendable."
Richard's heart skipped a beat, and he glanced at Edward.
Edward's strength far surpassed that of ordinary patrol soldiers, but against the entire weasel demon force, even that seemed insignificant.
Not to mention the warriors usually stationed in town, allegedly demon-hunting experts, who were now lying low, not daring to act.
Just as Richard's mind was in turmoil, he noticed Edward's expression had changed.
The frown on Edward's face had suddenly relaxed.
"Edward, sir..." Richard hesitated, but Edward merely patted him on the shoulder, his expression calm.
"You can all go back."
Edward had been troubled over how to deal with the demon problem.
The demons were hiding deep in the mountains, in treacherous terrain, making them difficult to find, and going in blindly would be extremely risky.
But now, this provocative letter made everything clear.
Since the demons wanted to talk, how could he pass up the opportunity?
Edward's expression remained serene as he strode forward confidently.
Richard watched Edward's figure fade into the distance, his growing sense of unease pushing him to call out, "Are you going alone?"
Before Edward could respond, Jefferson, propped up by two patrolmen, sneered.
"You fools. When his own mother was captured by demons, he didn't even blink. Now he's acting all righteous? Ha!"
Jefferson spat on the ground, his face full of disdain, utterly convinced that Edward wouldn't actually leave town to face the demons.
...
A shadow darted like an arrow through the air as Edward arrived at the dilapidated Little Creek Village.
He slowed his pace, walking steadily and breathing evenly. His recent sprint hadn't tired him at all.
In the fields, the villagers had already stopped their work, their eyes nervously fixed on the village entrance.
Seeing the figure with a sword, a flicker of tension passed through their gazes.
To them, a visit from the patrol soldiers meant trouble—either from the soldiers themselves or a sign of imminent demon attacks.
When they recognized Edward, their previously numb and exhausted expressions relaxed slightly.
They vaguely remembered that this particular patrolman had personally slain a demon last time.
Unlike others, he hadn't extorted money or food from them when he left.
A little girl, barely old enough to walk, toddled over.
She wore a comically oversized, tattered, coarse cloth shirt with holes.
In her small hands, she held a battered bowl, her bright eyes gazing up at Edward.
"Mister, drink some water."
Edward was momentarily surprised, glancing down at the little girl before him.
She smiled innocently, holding out the bowl.
Though it was old and worn, it contained the village's most precious resource—clean water.
Touched, Edward didn't take the bowl.
Instead, he pulled a fifty-dollar bill from his pocket.
He knew that giving too much money to a child could be dangerous.
"Keep the money, and you drink the water yourself."
He gently placed the money in the girl's hands, softly patted her head, and gave her a faint smile.
Edward's gaze then shifted to the distant mountain road.
Along the rugged path, a dozen large figures were slowly making their way toward the village.
His eyes narrowed.
"It seems like we've got some tough opponents today."
These figures were at least two heads taller than the average person, their muscular frames wrapped in coarse fur.
Their muscles bulged under the hair, clearly visible.
The most conspicuous one lagged at the back of the group—a demon resembling a walking mountain of flesh.
Layers of fat stacked upon each other, each about two fingers thick, so densely packed it was impossible to tell how many layers there were.
The demon's deep yellow, glossy fur gleamed under the sun, contrasting sharply with the filthy appearance of the other weasel demons.
Moments later, they stopped at the village entrance, their massive figures looming like a wall, suffocating the atmosphere of Little Creek Village.
At that moment, the raggedly dressed little girl stumbled and fell onto her bottom.
Her dirty face froze, the smile wiped away as fear began to spread across her features.
She held her breath as the giant demons approached, her small body trembling, biting her lips in terror.
Compared to the young girl, the villagers were slightly more composed.
Their calmness could be better described as apathy.
They had encountered demons too many times before, and they knew they had no means to resist.
The villagers bowed their heads and slowly crouched down, holding themselves tightly.
They didn't cry out or run, knowing there was no escape.
Edward's gaze swept over the demons, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
The little girl watched as Edward slowly drew his sword from his waist.
The sound of the sword leaving its sheath rang out, clear and cold, echoing through the deathly stillness.
Edward began to walk forward, sword held loosely by his side, its blade glinting faintly.
As the dozen or so weasel demons approached, Edward didn't retreat or hesitate.