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Chapter 614 The Cunning Human strikes again

"I am making a good exchange here, Father," Duncan addressed Governor Momoa with a mixture of determination and detachment. The term \'Father\' carried a weight of disdain, a reminder of the fractured familial ties and the tumultuous relationship that had brought them to this ominous juncture. "Give me my brother\'s soul, and I\'ll give you Clawed\'s."

Governor Momoa, though visibly irritated by the proposition, understood the precarious position he found himself in. The revived Primordial beast, now under Duncan\'s indirect control through the undead commander, presented a formidable force that tilted the balance of power in favor of his estranged son. With a resigned sigh, the governor nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Not bad, boy," he conceded, his tone a begrudging acknowledgment of Duncan\'s strategic maneuvering. The governor, unfazed by the prospect of inflicting harm upon himself for the sake of the clandestine exchange, extended his fingers to form an improvised claw. With a swift and practiced motion, he tore a hole into his own stomach, revealing a cavity that housed the hell beast\'s heart—the vessel containing Duncan\'s brother\'s soul.

The ambient sounds of the battlefield seemed to hush momentarily as the governor exposed the pulsating organs within his own body. 

Duncan, despite the gravity of the situation, maintained a detached composure, his gaze fixed on the exposed insides of his own father.

 The unfolding scene encapsulated a macabre dance of power, a sinister transaction between familial adversaries bound by the intricate threads of demonic lineage.

The orb containing Clawed\'s soul hovered in Duncan\'s hand, suspended between the anticipation of reunion and the haunting reality of the price to be paid. 

The revived Primordial beast, under the influence of the undead commander, observed the exchange with a disturbing sentience, its glowing eyes reflecting a malevolent understanding of the events transpiring.

As Duncan prepared to hand over Clawed\'s soul in exchange for the hell beast\'s heart, a palpable tension hung in the air. 

However, Governor Momoa\'s desperation suddenly intensified as he delved deeper into the recesses of his own body in search of the elusive heart of the hell beast. 

His fingers probed frantically, tearing through the internal landscape as if rifling through the compartments of a long-forgotten drawer. The grim realization dawned upon him—there was no trace of the coveted organ within him.

In a moment of stark clarity, Governor Momoa\'s gaze shifted towards the spot where Lenny had lay before being whisked away by the witch\'s magic. 

The memory of Lenny\'s peculiar ancient energy and the golden glow that had consumed one of his eyes flashed vividly in the governor\'s mind. It was a moment he had dismissed earlier, overshadowed by the chaos of the unfolding battle.

The pieces fell into place as Governor Momoa mentally retraced the events. The wooden flute that Lenny had wielded, appearing like an innocuous instrument, now took on a sinister significance. 

The governor\'s disbelief warred with the undeniable truth—that seemingly harmless flute was none other than the dreaded Whistle Horn of a hell beast, an artifact capable of stealing treasures with unfathomable efficacy.

A wave of shock and frustration swept over Governor Momoa. The realization that Lenny, seemingly a mere pawn in the grand demonic chessboard, had outsmarted him in this treacherous game of power and manipulation fueled the governor\'s rising ire. 

The stolen heart, a crucial fragment of demonic lineage and power, was now in the possession of the cunning and elusive Lenny.

The battlefield, already steeped in chaos and malevolence, bore witness to the governor\'s internal turmoil. His countenance twisted with a mixture of anger and defeat, the echoes of his own miscalculations reverberating through the ether. 

In the shadow of the reanimated Primordial beast, the stakes had shifted, and Governor Momoa found himself ensnared in a web of consequences spun by his underestimation of Lenny\'s resourcefulness.

As the gravity of the situation settled upon him, Governor Momoa\'s eyes narrowed as another thought also hit him. After all, there was also that other item. 

Once more, he searched within his own chest, but it was as he thought. The page from the Book of death was also gone. 

This was his most valuable treasure, the reason for his growth and rise to power, and it had been taken before his very eyes, and from his own body. 

His face contorted in anger as he screamed loudly to the sky. "AHHHHHHH!!!!"

His cry carried sheer hatred, and it blasted out around him in waves, making Duncan raise his Darkline magic to defend.

The pursuit of power for the governor, once a relentless drive, now carried the weight of a personal vendetta. 

Lenny being an elusive and cunning adversary, had not only evaded the governor\'s grasp but had also stripped him of two demonic treasures of incredible importance. 

In a fit of rage, the Governor\'s wings spread out, not caring to look at Duncan or the reanimated Primordial Beast, he jumped into the air, and with speed as fast as sound, he rushed into the heavens. 

This was how Governor Momoa left the scene. 

Duncan was taken by surprise at this, and he gritted his teeth harshly. 

Meanwhile, Duncan did not notice what was happening behind him. 

The Undead commander after collecting the Invitation stone had been looking at its new body, admiring itself and feeling the newfound power within it. After all, to command the corpse of the primordial beast was to have the power of a Great Demon existence.

Duncan frowned harshly as he turned around. "let\'s leave!" He commanded. However, even after taking several steps, he noticed that the undead commander did not follow. 

Duncan turned about, "did you not hear me? I said, lets..." 

*SLUSH!* 

(Author\'s note: I know, right? This is getting really interesting. I haven\'t had gifts for this novel in a while. Gifts are encouragement for more chapters.)