Chapter 1535 Production 0

Just as Wapol was feeling anxious, Satan Saint's deep and majestic voice rang out: "Your fruit ability can fuse metals, right?"

Hmm? Wapol's heart skipped a beat when he heard this. It didn't look like he was going to kill him... He suppressed his fear and quickly replied, "It's all right. My ability can fuse any substance together."

Saint Satan nodded slightly, a barely perceptible glint of satisfaction flashing across his eyes, and then he said, "That's great. I have something for you to do."

"Ah?" Wapol looked confused, completely unaware of what was in Satan's holy gourd.

Wapol was then led to a secret chamber. The walls were inlaid with shimmering gemstones, illuminating the entire room. In the center of the room stood a massive table, upon which lay several broken pieces. These pieces varied in shape, some angular, others smooth and rounded, yet all exuded a mysterious aura.

Although Wapol didn't know what these were, judging by his experience in making rare metals, he knew that the material of this thing was definitely extraordinary.

He moved closer to the table and examined the parts carefully, trying to find some clues from their appearance.

"Your task is to restore these parts." Saint Satan's voice echoed in the secret room, as if it was an order that could not be disobeyed.

"Recover? I can't do it?" Wapol widened his eyes and looked embarrassed.

Although he has the ability to fuse matter, he has never tried such delicate work as restoring parts.

"Your abilities can be integrated, right?" Satan Saint's face darkened, his eyes revealing a hint of displeasure, as if Wapol's refusal was a challenge to his authority.

"No, no, no, I can fuse it, but I can't make parts. I can turn it into a complete material."

Wapol hurriedly explained, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

"Finished materials?" Satan Saint showed a thoughtful expression. He frowned slightly, as if weighing Wapol's words.

After a moment, he raised his head, his eyes becoming cold and determined: "Not enough, you must find a way to turn these things into the shape I want, otherwise, I will kill you."

"This, this, this..." The Wapols were stunned, their legs went weak and they almost collapsed to the ground.

What is going on? I am a super rich man, but how come I have to face such a deadly task?

His mind was in a mess and he had no idea what to do.

"Let me try..." Wapol sighed helplessly. He knew that he had no room to refuse now, so he could only agree reluctantly.

He slowly walked to the table, stretched out his hand, gently touched the broken parts, and prayed silently in his heart that he could successfully complete this seemingly impossible task.

"Let's fight!" Wapol closed his eyes, his face full of determination, as if he was about to rush into a battlefield with no way out.

He reached out his hand resignedly and picked up the fragments on the table with trembling hands. The cold touch along his fingertips made his heart sink.

The next second, he opened his mouth wide and swallowed the fragments in one gulp. His action was so decisive, as if he was making a crazy bet with fate.

"Ahhh." A dull and slightly painful chewing sound rang out in the secret room. Wapol's cheeks swelled like two balloons, his brows were tightly furrowed, veins on his forehead bulged, and sweat kept rolling down his forehead, wetting his collar.

Every time I chew, there is a sound of metal colliding in my mouth.

"It's strange. What kind of material is this? Why is it so hard to bite?"

Wapol began to feel the hardness of the fragments in his mouth.

He felt like there was a small iron ore in his mouth, and the fragments were rushing around between his teeth, as if they were engaged in a fierce battle with his teeth.

"If I spit out a piece of scrap metal, this guy won't kill me, right?" This terrible thought suddenly flashed through Wapol's mind. His body shuddered and his chewing movements slowed down.

He widened his eyes in horror, as if he had already seen the angry face of Saint Satan and the butcher knife swinging down.

Thinking of this, Wapol perked up again and began to chew carefully.

He tried to use his teeth harder, trying to grind the fragments into finer and smaller pieces, like a craftsman carefully polishing a precious work of art.

His tongue moved around in his mouth, feeling the shape and texture of each fragment, trying to blend them together.

From time to time, there was a gurgling sound in his throat, which was the sound made by swallowing fragments.

Every swallow feels like swallowing the uncertainty of fate into your stomach.

Wapol clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms, but he was completely unaware and was only focused on the movements in his mouth.

As he chewed deeper, Wapol felt the fragments in his mouth gradually become softer, like a ball of crushed plasticine.

A glimmer of hope welled up in his heart. Perhaps he could actually accomplish this seemingly impossible task. He chewed faster, his mouth opening and closing like a high-speed machine.

Finally, Wapol felt that he had chewed up most of the fragments in his mouth. He took a deep breath, mustered up his courage, and prepared to spit out the processed materials.

His throat moved, and then a ball of glowing material slowly came out of his mouth and landed on the table.

Wapol stared at the pile of materials nervously, not daring to blink, as if waiting for the verdict of fate.

Wapol's "Blacksmith" Nightmare

"It's over!" Wapol was struck by lightning when he saw the piece of metal he had spewed out of his mouth. He froze in his tracks. Then, a wave of despair washed over him, and snot flowed uncontrollably, leaving a comical streak on his face. The piece of metal was warped and distorted, a strange shape, a far cry from the expected restoration part.

"What the hell is this!" Wapol's eyes widened, his voice rising sharply as he cried out. He thought he had done his best, but ended up with something like this. How could he not collapse?

Saint Satan frowned, and a hint of displeasure flashed across his already deep eye sockets, as if dark clouds had covered the sun, and the atmosphere in the entire secret room became oppressive.

"Wait, wait!" Seeing that Satan Saint's face was not right, Wapol hurriedly shouted to stop like a frightened rabbit, his voice full of panic and anxiety.

His mind raced, and suddenly an idea struck him, leading him to the key question: "Drawings, you didn't give me the drawings of the parts. I don't know what shape to make."

Satan Saint was startled for a moment, then his furrowed brow slowly relaxed, as if he had remembered something important. He suddenly slapped his head and muttered, "I guess I didn't tell him the shape of the parts."

Then he took out a sketch from an exquisite box, handed it to Wapol, and said in a low and powerful voice: "This."