The maid squad is too strong, what use is there for me, the Demon King?

Seeing Tarik's fallen heavy axe, Sophia's pale face, and the mixture of shock and sharp scrutiny in Grandpa Phoenix's eyes, Philippa sighed softly in her heart.

She could completely understand their shock and confusion at this moment. After all, not long ago, when she learned the truth, her reaction was much more intense than theirs—she tried desperately and attempted to self-destruct (unsuccessfully).

Recalling how she had been blinded by anger and a sense of betrayal, convinced that everything was a scam, Philippa's already pale cheeks flushed slightly, revealing a barely perceptible blush.

She coughed lightly, clearing her hoarse throat, and spoke to the three people, who were still in a petrified state, in as calm a tone as possible:

"You... have probably already guessed it. That's right, Gray... he is the Demon Lord of this generation."

Despite having a premonition, when Philippa confirmed the cruel truth herself, the expressions on the three people's faces instantly became even more colorful, as if a palette had been overturned.

Taric seemed to have all his strength drained away. His burly body swayed again, his eyes vacant, and he murmured, "It really is... the Demon King..." The shock to his worldview left him unable to think for a moment.

Sophia, as if struck by lightning, stared intently at Gray, then at Philippa, her lips trembling. She wanted to say something, but overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information and extreme shock (as well as the collapse of some personal emotion), she stammered, "The...the Demon King?! Gray is the Demon King?! Then...then Philippa, you...you...this...what is this...?"

Even the well-traveled Phoenix couldn't help but breathe more rapidly. The muscles on his aged face twitched slightly, and his gaze toward Gray was filled with unprecedented solemnity and disbelief.

The Demon King has been lurking in the human world under such an identity all along, and even has a close relationship with the hero?! The implications behind this are terrifying to contemplate.

Seeing the varied expressions on her companions' faces, Philippa tried to remain calm and continued, "But he doesn't mean us any harm. I can assure you of that. So, put down your weapons, and let's... find a place to sit down and talk things over." Her voice, though weak, carried an undeniable certainty, attempting to soothe her companions' tense nerves.

At the same time, Gray instructed the eight respectfully standing Ten Shadows attendants, "Alpha, lead the way. Invite the 'guests' to the conference room." His voice regained its deep, authoritative tone, carrying an unquestionable command.

"Yes, Lord Shadow Demon!"

Alpha, Beta, Delta, Ipsilon, Sita, Eta, and Capa responded almost without hesitation, immediately and smoothly began to carry out the instructions. Alpha stepped forward, making a guiding gesture, while the others spread out in tacit understanding, maintaining vigilance while also making a "please" gesture.

However, amidst this uniform response, a voice filled with confusion and dissatisfaction was heard:

"Huh?! Why did you suddenly stop fighting?!" Zeta tilted her head, her furry ears twitching in confusion. She looked at Gray, then at her "prey" who had just been fighting fiercely. Her big golden eyes were filled with disappointment that "I haven't had enough fighting yet" and innocent bewilderment that "I don't understand what happened."

She clearly hadn't grasped the dramatic shift in the situation from "fighting" to "peace talks."

Her untimely reaction contrasted sharply with the somber, eerie, and somewhat awkward atmosphere, causing Tarik and Sofia, who were already on edge, to twitch at the corners of their mouths.

Gray glanced at Zeta with a hint of helplessness, offering no further explanation.

Alpha conveniently (or perhaps habitually) ignored Zeta's question and gestured for Phoenix and the others to follow him again. His voice, calm yet polite, came through his mask: "Gentlemen, please follow me."

Zeta, on the other hand, was dragged along by Delta's tail, reluctantly following at the back of the group, still muttering under his breath about the regret of "not finishing the game yet".

The corridor leading to the conference room was long and silent, with only the varying sounds of footsteps echoing in the empty space, making the atmosphere even more eerie.

The most clueless and straightforward of them all is undoubtedly Zeta the dog.

She glanced at the strange woman (Philippa) being held by the boss, then at the "prey" beside her who had been fighting tooth and nail just moments before but now could only stare helplessly. Her fluffy tail hung low in confusion, occasionally flicking, and her golden eyes were filled with big question marks. She moved closer to Aita and muttered in what she thought was a very soft voice (but still clear in the quiet corridor), "Meow meow Aita, why can't we fight anymore? They still look so easy to bite..." Aita smacked her with her paw, annoyed, signaling her to shut up.

However, the inner turmoil of Taric, Sofia, and Phoenix was far more complex than Zeta's simple confusion.

They looked at the black-robed figures leading the way and accompanying them on both sides. Not long ago, these figures represented a deadly threat and endless pressure, each possessing the formidable strength to make them fight hard or even perish.

But in the blink of an eye, these dangerous enemies, because of Gray's words, restrained all their murderous intent and became so... "respectful" and "courteous"?

This drastic shift in identity and uncertainty about their stance left them with mixed feelings, as if they had stepped into thin air and fallen into a fog where reality and illusion were indistinguishable.

Taric instinctively clenched his fist, then forced himself to relax it. His muscles remained tense as he vigilantly observed the subtle movements of every man in black robes. Years of warrior instinct prevented him from easily relaxing.

Sophia's gaze was fixed on Gray's back as he carried Philippa, her eyes filled with an extremely complex mix of jealousy, worry, anger, and a profound sense of loss at being deceived. This caused her delicate face to contort slightly, and her nails to dig deeply into her palms.

Phoenix, the most experienced of them all, appeared the calmest on the surface, but his sharp eyes showed no sign of relaxation.

As he followed the procession, he subtly and imperceptibly glanced left and right, his gaze like the most precise probe, carefully scanning the magnificent and ancient building.

He noticed the ancient reliefs on the walls on both sides of the corridor, which he had never seen before. Their style was rough and mysterious, and the content seemed to be related to the origin of the demon race, sacrifices, or some lost epic, full of a barbaric atmosphere.

Huge stone pillars support the towering dome, their surfaces wrapped with metallic patterns that, though long since lifeless, still reveal the extraordinary nature of their material.

The poor air circulation created a stuffy, age-old atmosphere, yet it also subtly exuded a pure and profound dark magic, the source of which seemed to permeate the entire building.

'This could never have been built in modern times…' Phoenix thought with a chill. 'Its architectural style and residual magic are unlike any known demonic ruins recorded in existing documents; it's much older, much… closer to the origin. Could this be the true royal court of some ancient demon king?'

He tried to perceive the subtle structure of the space, but found that the space here was more stable than he had imagined. His mental power, which was suppressed by teleportation ability, made it difficult to even explore slightly deeper.

"here it is……"