Extraordinary Rise: Starting Contract with the Silver Dragon Countess

The "boss" at the front desk changed his expression abruptly after hearing Cohen say "let's talk business."

His cloudy eyes were fixed on Cohen, as if he were weighing something.

After a long while, he slowly pulled out a bunch of rusty keys from under the counter, gently placed them on the table, and then lowered his head to continue wiping the wine glasses.

As if nothing had happened, they stopped paying attention to Cohen, the uninvited guest.

Cohen was not surprised at all. He calmly picked up the key and turned to walk towards the wooden staircase leading upstairs.

The stairs creaked beneath his feet, a stark contrast to the clamor inside the tavern.

Arriving on the third floor, I walked straight to the end of the corridor and stood in front of a seemingly ordinary wall at the end.

The walls were covered with mottled stains and scratches, just like the rest of the pub.

Cohen paused for a moment, then took out the fourth key from the bunch—a uniquely shaped bronze key—and gently pressed it against the wall.

In an instant, a faint spatial ripple appeared on the surface of the wall, like a pebble being thrown into water.

The originally solid wall gradually became transparent, revealing a dimly lit staircase that stretched infinitely upwards.

The walls on both sides of the staircase are inlaid with fluorite that emits a faint blue light, providing dim illumination for this secret passage.

Cohen walked up the stairs, his footsteps echoing softly in the narrow space, and the atmosphere gradually became eerie.

At the end of the stairs was a simply furnished room with only a wooden table and two chairs, and an antique silver mirror hanging on the wall.

The room was empty, and a faint musty smell filled the air.

Cohen sat down in the chair and waited quietly.

A moment later, his gaze fell on the silver mirror on the wall.

The mirror clearly reflected an ordinary face disguised by a "devil mask," the very disguise he had used when entering the Rotten Paradise.

Cohen looked at his shadow and said with a smile:

"As expected, they can only mimic my disguise; they can't see through my true appearance."

Your abilities are rather ordinary!

As soon as Cohen finished speaking, the previously calm silver mirror suddenly began to vibrate violently.

The mirror surface distorted like ripples on water, then collapsed with a deafening cracking sound.

Then, an indescribable substance emerged from the shattered mirror. It had no fixed shape and kept twisting and changing.

Sometimes it resembles rotten silt, and other times it is like an aggregate of various waste residues, exuding a stale and nihilistic aura.

This is Old Mo, the "Forgotten One," the biggest and most mysterious intelligence broker in the Rotten Paradise.

Old Mo is not a born devil or demon, nor even a creature in the conventional sense; he is an extremely ancient and rare "conceptual entity."

He was an alien being born from the fundamental rules of the universe when the first intelligent life form exhibited the behavior of "forgetting".

He is the embodiment of the concept of "forgetting" in the material plane.

Therefore, he has no fixed form; his existence is to witness, induce, and ultimately "taste" oblivion.

He travels through different dimensions, collecting forgotten memories, abandoned knowledge, and secrets lost in the long river of history.

They used them as food and as bargaining chips.

Throughout the entire Rotten Paradise, Old Mo has countless taverns as his strongholds and eyes and ears.

Some taverns are magnificent and extremely luxurious, attracting countless adventurers and nobles seeking thrills and information.

Others, like the one Cohen walked into today, are hidden in a remote corner, dilapidated and inconspicuous, rarely visited by anyone.

Only those who know the inside story or possess a special "key" can find this place and make a deal with this mysterious "Forgotten One".

However, these scattered taverns belonging to Old Mo are not ordinary places for entertainment.

They are more like meticulously laid traps, exuding an alluring and decadent atmosphere.

Many taverns offer certain drinks or foods with a strange effect—they can temporarily numb the drinker's senses, allowing them to forget the fear and trauma of bloodshed and gain a moment of illusory peace.

However, this brief solace comes at a heavy price—the drinker's memories, especially those filled with intense emotions, will slowly and continuously fade away without them realizing it.

These taverns are an extension of Old Mo's body, his "predation grounds" throughout the park.

Each tavern is a living, slowly wriggling organ, with walls that seem to breathe and an occasional, barely perceptible pulse emanating from beneath the floor.

Those magical wines that allow drinkers to forget their troubles are actually "digestive juices" secreted by Old Mo, used to break down and extract the essence of memories.

The so-called "food" consists of vivid memories from different intelligent beings, filled with joy, anger, sorrow, love, and hatred.

To ordinary people, Lao Mo's behavior was extremely evil, as he fed on the wounds of others' souls.

But for him, it was like a carnivore hunting or a plant photosynthesizing—a natural behavior based on instinct.

Without any malice or goodwill in the conventional sense, he always maintained a detached, almost scholarly curiosity, observing the emotional fluctuations and memory shifts of these short-lived lives.

He even developed a unique and self-consistent set of moral principles.

In Lao Mo's understanding, "forgetting" is not a curse, but a kind of mercy that the universe bestows upon life.

It is through forgetting that life can be freed from extreme pain, regret, and trauma, and gain the courage to move forward.

He viewed his act of absorbing memories as a special kind of "service"—helping those souls, tormented and scarred by the bloody battles, to unload the overly heavy burden of memories, thereby achieving a certain degree of "purification" and "liberation".

This self-deceiving yet logically consistent belief lends a strange and contradictory "compassionate" hue to Old Mo, an inherently terrifying being.

He calmly watched the customers' relieved smiles after their drinks, like a benevolent healer, even though his "treatment" was quietly taking away the most precious part of their lives.

Old Mo's decision to linger in Afonas, this eternal battlefield, was not simply for the convenience of "eating".

Indeed, this is the most noisy and chaotic place in the entire Nine Hells Plane, a gathering place for devils, demons, otherworldly creatures, and mortal souls caught up in it from all levels.

The fragments of memories they brought, brimming with intense emotion, were indeed a delicious treat that Old Mo found hard to resist.

But the deeper reason is that he is secretly carrying out a much grander and more dangerous plan.

He was quietly collecting fragments of memories about the origin of the Blood War that were scattered throughout the river of time.

He tried to piece together the truth of the eternal war that swept across the entire lower realm from these fragmented memories. He longed to delve into the core secrets hidden within the entire Nine Hells plane and even the bottomless abyss beneath it.

In fact, the existence of Lao Mo in the entire Nine Hells plane is a huge mystery, and very few people know his true identity.

This was not because he deliberately hid it, but because most people who had come into contact with him, whether they drank his specially made wine, ate the food he provided, or even just breathed in the special aura that permeated his "forgotten realm".

They will gradually forget their memories of him without even realizing it.

Currently, there are very few beings in the entire Afonas, and even in the Nine Hells, who can effectively resist this "forgetting" erosion with their own power.

One of them was Saris, the "Plague Doctor," who was the founder and ruler of "Festering Paradise."

With his unfathomable superhuman level and unparalleled medical skills involving both the soul and the body, Salisbury is able to counteract Mordred's oblivion power, which originates from the very essence of concepts, to a certain extent.

A delicate and fragile "symbiotic" relationship formed between the two of them, a cooperative model based on mutual exploitation.

Salis provided Old Mo with a stable "restaurant" in Afonas—the Rotten Paradise—as well as the necessary shelter, allowing him to carry out his "collecting" work with peace of mind.

In return, Old Mo provided Shalish with valuable intelligence and secrets gleaned from the subconscious minds of various intelligent beings who frequented Paradise, after he had sifted through them.

This information became important material for Salisbury to conduct his bizarre and massive social experiments.

They maintained a superficial cooperative relationship without tacitly agreeing to it, but deep down they were wary of each other.

Shalimar was wary of the elusive nature of Old Mo's concepts and the possible deeper purpose they might have, while Old Mo remained cautious about Shalimar's insane thirst for knowledge, which he sought to dissect and even control everything.

In fact, Cohen's understanding of the conceptual creature in front of him, named Old Mo, mostly came from the vast collections of game data and setting documents he had encountered in his previous life.

He knew that this "Forgotten One" who roamed the front lines of the Nine Hells Bloodbath also possessed a deeply hidden identity within the renowned "Society of All Things" in the human prime plane.

He has even reached the lofty status of a "sage" due to his unimaginable knowledge. (See "Chapter 196: The Golden Group Opens, Cohen Participates!" for the setting of the "Society of All Things".)
However, this is not difficult to understand.

Because over the long years, Lao Mo has absorbed too many fragments of memories from different races and civilizations.

After sorting and assimilating this chaotic and massive amount of information, he ultimately transformed it into an immeasurable wealth of knowledge for himself.

For this reason, Lao Mo naturally became the biggest and most authoritative information broker in the entire Rotten Paradise, without exception.

His innate ability to "forget" provided a natural camouflage for his intelligence trading business.

Many customers who completed transactions with him would soon forget the details of the transactions, or even forget about Old Mo himself.

This greatly protected his secrecy and safety. With this unique advantage, Old Mo not only accumulated astonishing resources through extensive intelligence trading, but also quietly infiltrated every corner of the Bloodbath Land.

At the same time, he spread his network of taverns, which served as "prey grounds," throughout this scorched land.

Normally, Lao Mo prefers to play the role of the hunter.

He would actively search for "prey" with unique or precious memories in the vast sea of ​​people, and then guide them step by step into the "restaurant" he set up through various ingenious and imperceptible means.

However, the fact that Cohen, with such a clear purpose and coming directly to his door, was indeed quite unexpected.

Old Mo's ethereal "gaze" lingered on Cohen for a long time. As a conceptual entity born from the underlying rules of the universe, he had an extraordinary sensitivity to logic and common sense.

Logically speaking, it would be absolutely impossible for a mere Gold-rank human to know of his existence.

Even if one happens to hear a few words about him through some channel, under the influence of his innate concept of "forgetting," this information will be quickly erased from memory.

Not to mention being able to locate this secret contact point so precisely, a place unknown even to many high-ranking demons, and using a code he had never revealed to anyone.

There must be some amazing secret behind this.

Secrets, he loves secrets the most!
This ever-changing conceptual entity exuded an exciting aura, and an emotion mixed with curiosity and a desire to explore quietly grew in his inhuman consciousness.

After a period of silent observation and perception, Old Mo seemed to have received some information.

The flowing form began to change rapidly, the mud and debris quickly coalesced and recombined, and in the blink of an eye, a middle-aged human male figure wearing a simple robe and with an ordinary face that could not be found in a crowd stood in front of Cohen.

The middle-aged man had a gentle smile on his face and a very kind voice, like a kind and benevolent elder.
"Does this shape make you feel more comfortable?"

Cohen looked at the figure before him, perfectly integrated into human society, and responded with a faint smile:
"Thank you, I'm here to discuss business."

The image makes no difference to me.

Despite Old Mo's overtures, Cohen remained uneasy.

He was very clear about the true nature of this seemingly gentle "middle-aged man" in front of him.

Old Mo can transform into any form that makes the other party feel at ease and trusting, depending on the race, culture, and psychological expectations of the trading partner.

He can chat and laugh with any guest, listen to their troubles, and share their joys, as if he were the best bartender, the most intimate friend, or the most reliable partner.

But all of this is just an efficient "hunting" method, a way to make the "prey" lower their guard and open up more easily, so that he can more easily extract those disguises containing strong emotional memories.

Beneath this kind exterior lies the same cold and detached conceptual entity that feeds on "memory".

This transcendent conceptual being is more like a curious observer, passionate about studying the various reactions of intelligent beings when faced with extreme pressure, predicaments, and choices.

To him, the fear a hero experiences at the moment of death has the same "collectible value" as the courage a coward displays in a moment.

These are the most authentic and intense emotional samples of life under extreme conditions.

He has a private "collection room" containing countless crystallized memories that he considers works of art, each representing an extreme emotional experience:

The collapse of faith of a pure angel dragged into the abyss of hell; the resolute and tragic sacrifice of a mortal king who willingly offers his soul for his people; the radiant brilliance of an unwavering love at the moment of life and death...

He savors these memories as if they were the finest wine.

Faced with Cohen's direct and frank answer, Old Mo's face showed no emotional fluctuation. He simply leaned forward slightly and asked with a smile, his tone filled with intense curiosity:

"I'm very curious, how exactly did you find me?"

Logically speaking, someone of your level shouldn't know about this place, much less know how to contact me.

Cohen replied with a smile:

"I can answer your questions, but in return, I need information."

A deeper interest flashed in Old Mo's eyes. He liked this straightforward way of trading, especially when the content of the transaction involved his own secrets.

A knowing glint flashed across his face as he slowly picked up a drink that had appeared on the table at some unknown time, emitting a strange aroma.

He took a small sip, a comfortable and contented expression on his face, and then said softly:
"On the outskirts of the Bloodbath, in a canyon near a tributary of the River Styx, a guard force of five hundred berserkers is currently carrying out a secret mission."

They established a medium-sized arms supply depot there, responsible for transiting weapons and supplies to a certain demon legion at the front.

Based on the troops that Grand Duke Zariel has provided for you—one hundred elite demon soldiers plus two eighth-tier ice demons—this 500-strong berserker demon force is roughly twice the strength of yours.

This perfectly aligns with the 'Bloodbath Badge's' fundamental requirement of "winning with fewer troops."

Old Mo put down his cup, a cryptic smile playing on his lips:

"If you have enough confidence in yourself and your subordinates' command abilities, they will be the most suitable and quickest 'prey' for you to acquire badges!"

Cohen showed no surprise at Old Mo's ability to so easily uncover his identity, the purpose of the test, and his specific situation.

He had expected this.

As far as he knew, inside that heavily guarded bronze fortress, and even in many seemingly high-end and luxurious hotels throughout Afonas that catered exclusively to high-ranking devils and VIPs.

The actual controller behind it all is none other than the "Forgotten One," Old Mo, standing right in front of us.

His intelligence network had already infiltrated every corner of Avernus's power structure.

Although the fact that Cohen accepted Grand Duke Zaril's test was kept strictly confidential from the outside world, it was not a top secret to the members of the Supreme Military Council and their close confidants.

These high-ranking figures are frequent guests at Lao Mo's upscale hotels. While they are drinking and relaxing, a lot of seemingly unintentional information will quietly leak out.

As the biggest intelligence broker in the Bloodbathlands, Old Mo possesses a vast and efficient information gathering network, from the moment Cohen stepped into this seemingly remote tavern to the moment he finally sat down face to face with him.

In this short period of time, Lao Mo had enough time to mobilize resources and thoroughly investigate the background of this suddenly appearing human.

Cohen gently shook his head and said slowly:
"One target intelligence point is far from enough."

Answering your question about how I found you holds far greater value than the information contained in a Bloodbath Badge.

Old Mo frowned; he seemed surprised that Cohen would bargain so directly, and with such an arrogant tone.

"What else do you want?"

Cohen looked him straight in the eye and said, word by word:

"Complete intelligence on the movements of a mature legendary-rank demon!"

A clear look of shock flashed in Old Mo's eyes. Without a doubt, he immediately understood Cohen's true intentions.

This human didn't just want the "Blood Badge"; his ambitions went far beyond that. He was aiming for the "Abyssal Essence" medal, which symbolized legendary achievements!
Old Mo remained silent for a moment, and the gentle aura around him gradually subsided, replaced by a solemn and dignified demeanor.

He spoke slowly, his voice lowering slightly:
"You should know very well how valuable this intelligence is."

Tracking the complete movements of a mature legendary demon means delving into the heart of the demon army and touching upon the abyssal secrets that even high-ranking demons keep hidden.

Its risks and difficulties far exceed those of ordinary bloody battle missions.

Upon hearing this, Cohen merely smiled calmly, a smile carrying an almost defiant composure:

"I'm already on your turf, are you still afraid I'll screw you over?"

As far as I know, the rule against violence set by "Plague Doctor" Shalishi doesn't seem to apply to you.

Old Mo gave Cohen a deep look, his eyes filled with a mixture of shock and curiosity.

He knew that he had probably encountered a truly extraordinary trading partner today.

After a long period of contemplation, Old Mo slowly nodded:

"Recently, a mature 'seductress' did indeed leave her lair, supposedly to find a new lover."

Based on your qualifications—you are young, handsome, and possess considerable abilities—you are capable.

She will probably really 'like' you.

If you truly possess the ability to hunt down legendary-level transcendents, this would undoubtedly be an excellent opportunity for you.

Cohen's lips twitched slightly; he strongly suspected that Old Mo had deliberately chosen such a target for him.

Old Mo seemed oblivious to Cohen's subtle change in expression. He paused, then added in a more serious tone:
"Of course, this is on the premise that the information you provide about how you found me is indeed of sufficient value."

If your answer satisfies me, I will not only tell you the exact location of those five hundred berserkers, but also provide detailed information on the movements of this seductive demon.

Cohen coughed lightly and said slowly:

"Knowing that you exist and knowing how to find you is not difficult for me."

Because my true identity is Cohen Corleone! (End of Chapter)