Chapter 1047

The Sea of Omniscience, thick ropes floated in the water like writhing tentacles, very strange.

Corsini organized a large workforce to cut the seaweed growing on the first rope into individual leaves, then clip them onto new ropes and throw them into the sea.

Corsini himself was also busy clipping seaweed; this entirely new crop was unfamiliar to him, its cultivation methods unheard of, and he wondered whether expending such effort to grow it was worthwhile.

However, the decree of the Omniscient Lord meant it had to be planted regardless of worth, though Corsini remained half-believing, wanting to try it himself to see.

Pinching off a small tender leaf, Corsini put it in his mouth and chewed—it was bland and tasteless.

"Can this really be eaten?" Corsini muttered doubtfully.

Antony's voice rang out: "It is edible; wash it clean, slice it into strands, toss with scallions, garlic, and chili, and the flavor is first-rate."

Corsini jumped up: "Greetings, Your Majesty the Pope."

After bowing, Corsini finally lifted his head toward the direction of the voice, only to see Antony's apparition radiating holy light standing there—was this a soul descent?

Antony continued: "The algal leaves are rich in protein; pick them, dry them, grind into powder, and mix into feed—it's excellent for fattening cattle and sheep. Furthermore, once the seaweed matures, under sunlight it produces a kind of algal rice, a nutritious staple; its only drawback is poor texture, but it fills the stomach just fine."

"Good heavens, is this divine algae?" Corsini exclaimed excitedly; this crop was practically tailor-made for the Sea of Omniscience.

The Sea of Omniscience's surface is covered by ocean, with almost no arable land, but with this seaweed, whether for planting or livestock, it works—meaning the problem of food self-sufficiency in the Sea of Omniscience is solved.

"I suppose so, anyway it's cultivated by our Lord, but this is nothing; if not for the light disaster, you could witness soilless crops that grow without soil." Antony said indifferently.

"Can it grow without soil?" Corsini listened as if hearing scripture, his expression blank.

Antony smiled faintly: "I tell you this so you do not doubt the Lord's might—this is blasphemy."

Corsini shuddered: Ah, his earlier muttering already counted as a grave sin, for he had doubted the algae personally planted by Ange, which in many religions is directly punishable by death—blasphemy.

The outcome is either burning on the pyre or being thrown into the Ten Thousand Insect Cavern—either way, a most miserable death.

"Well, since you're not familiar yet, once you are, you won't have such thoughts—serve well, and the Lord God will protect you." Antony said, then shifted the topic:

"Gather the workforce; my lord wishes to initiate grain trade here, in the name of the Omniscient Lord, selling relief grain cheaply to plague-stricken planes—how are the defensive formations? Can they be used?"

Corsini nodded: "The defensive formations can be used, but my lord, why sell grain? If we sell our grain, what will we eat?"

Antony glanced at him, then at the seaweed in his hand—did he not hear a word I just said?

"No, the seaweed hasn't been cultivated yet, and we don't know the yield; if we sell the grain now and the seaweed fails to grow, what then?" Corsini hurriedly explained.

"Eight million tons of grain—you couldn't possibly eat it all; keep six months' rations, sell the rest." Antony said.

"Ah? Six months? This……this……is not good." Corsini said hesitantly.

No one would complain about having too much food at home, but now, with this situation, storing only half a year's food is deeply unsettling—what if no harvest comes within half a year? Will we all starve?

Having just endured a food crisis, he didn't want to face a second so soon; whether the seaweed is edible, tasty, or high-yielding, he knows nothing—even if Antony swore it was true, he would only half-believe.

Antony pressed his hand down on Corsini's body; Corsini instantly felt his strength vanish—the divine power that had filled him disappeared without a trace from that light pressure?

"Whether it's good or not is not for you to decide—are you willing to obey the divine edict?" Antony asked.

"I……I……I am willing." Corsini had no choice but to yield.

Antony then raised his hand; Corsini immediately felt divine power return to his body.

After years as a priest, Corsini had never before felt the superior's power over life and death—he could not even resist.

Realizing this, Corsini scrambled to gather personnel, maintain the formations, mobilize transport—everything was ready; once prepared, Violet through her own channels announced to all grain-deficient planes that the Omniscient Lord was willing to sell grain.

……

On a dilapidated airship, dozens of ragged humans were packed together, mostly women and children; in the overloaded, stuffy cabin, some children couldn't bear it and began to sob softly.

Why whisper? Because they were too hungry to cry loudly.

The adults were equally weak and listless, tormented by hunger and thirst; one boy couldn't help but ask the leading middle-aged man: "Village Chief Popo, is the Sea of Omniscience really willing to sell grain? If it's fake, what then? Or if the price is too high, we can't afford it—what then?"

Village Chief Popo's flesh was somewhat slack—he must have once been fat, now starved thin; hearing him weakly reply: "If it's fake, then let me die there; you who have strength, keep flying the airship to search for food elsewhere."

Hearing such despairing words, the boy couldn't help but choke back tears: "Where else can we go? Many major planes have closed their teleportation arrays, refusing entry; other abysses are little better than ours—let alone finding food, just not being eaten ourselves would be a relief."

Village Chief Popo suddenly felt a bit of strength: "Right, what if they're tricking us into being eaten? Omniscient Lord, has anyone here heard that name before?"

The men, women, old and young in the cabin all shook their heads; only the boy said: "The grain news came from the Violet Mercenary Corps; I know them—they have a good reputation."

"Then that's good." Village Chief Popo breathed a sigh of relief; everyone lacked the strength to speak further, the cabin fell silent, and after a while, finally through the window, they saw a plane entirely ocean.

Confirming this was the Sea of Omniscience, everyone's faces showed disappointment—a plane of pure water, how could it possibly sell grain?

"Could they really be deceiving us to eat us?" the boy said fearfully.

At that moment, Village Chief Popo calmed down, countering: "Do we have any other choice? Do we have enough food to reach the next plane? No—now we can only draw our knives; if they truly intend to eat us, we'll stab ourselves first, so we won't suffer being gnawed alive."

The airship found an inhabited island, descended, and they disembarked nervously—only to see a goblin approach, thrust a ball of vegetable dough into his hand, and ask amiably: "Do you believe in the Omniscient Lord?"