Chapter 153: The Queen

Everyone rushed over with a whoosh, crouching around the pile of ash, where a sapling had already grown as tall as a finger; after Ang and the others crouched down, the sapling grew even more vigorously, visibly stretching upward.

Ang removed the pot from his head, and the little sapling vigorously waved its true leaves, sending intense messages to the sapling on the ground: Grow—stronger—grow.

Because when Ang lifted it, his palm blocked the pot's rim, the sapling draped one true leaf over the edge, stretching itself higher, and wildly waved another leaf.

Ang activated his Cross-Dimension Hand and shoved the pot into the Palace of Rest.

The scene shifted before its eyes, leaving the sapling dazed; it tilted its top leaf and sent intense messages toward a nearby stone: Grow—stronger—grow—stronger… not growing…

With the sapling's interference removed, the growth rate of the sapling in the ash returned to normal—but still far exceeded the speed any ordinary tree should grow.

From the insects burning to ash, to Ang and the others chasing out the escaped beetles, less than twenty minutes had passed, yet a tree had sprouted and grown into a sapling; this speed was nearly as fast as Ang's Death Speed Aura—what were these ashes? How powerful were they?

The little zombie curiously extended its index finger and poked at it, smearing a bit on its fingertip, then stuck out its tiny tongue to try licking it.

"No…" Negril was about to stop it, but the moment the word left his lips, the little angel punched the zombie in the eye socket, sending it reeling backward into a sitting plop on the ground.

"Aow!" The little angel scolded it.

"Aow!" The zombie protested.

"Aow-aow-aow!" They started fighting.

Ang immediately protected the ashes, gathering them up—not just this pile, but all the other dozen or so piles as well—until they formed a mound a full cubic meter in volume, which he shoved back into the Palace of Rest.

"Could these be the 'zhen' the two of them mentioned?" Negril speculated.

Luo Ge also approached, using his Shadow Blade to lift away the covering from two severed limbs, revealing a withered lich corpse—though their bodies were far more repulsive than normal liches; no need to describe further, lest you lose your appetite.

"I think their scent is familiar—they likely come from Darkside City," Luo Ge said.

"Huh? Darkside City? Your subordinates?" Negril exclaimed.

Luo Ge shook his head: "Darkside City is vast, with underground tunnels stretching everywhere; we only control a tiny fraction. Even the Church of Light hasn't explored one ten-thousandth of those tunnels—otherwise they'd have wiped us out long ago. The scent I mean is this."

Luo Ge patted the lich's clothing, sending up a cloud of red dust.

"Aren't they keeping you around to maintain a balance of power?" Negril asked, leaning in as he peered closer: "Is this red soil? Is all of Darkside City this red geology?"

"Yes, mostly. Only a small patch in the east is different."

"So red soil areas are common—meaning no useful lead." With no valuable clue emerging, they turned back—and saw Ang had crushed a soul flame and was now searching its memories.

"This method is still easier." As a brass dragon, he never grew accustomed to devouring souls for memories—he preferred reasoning and prediction.

But soul-searching is also a gamble: every soul flame is fragile; a single misstep shatters it, and if the shattered fragment contained the most vital information, it could never be restored.

So normally, soul-searching requires comparing memories from multiple souls—or interrogating first, then searching.

Luckily, Ang had two souls.

He also drew out the soul flame from the half-severed limb on the ground; the hooded lich's soul let out a wailing cry: "Don't kill me, don't kill me, I don't want to die, I was forced, I was forced, please, don't kill me…"

"Oh? You were forced? Explain. Tell me everything—if you truly were coerced, we might spare your soul," Negril said. "Don't lie to us—your companion's soul has already been searched."

"No no no, I'll tell you everything, no lies, no hiding—we were forced. The Chaos Temple captured us, forced us to worship the Supreme Hemoer, and ordered us to unleash the insect plagues. They made the insects infest our bodies—if we didn't obey, the insects would devour us down to our bones. We were all forced, forced!"

"Your earlier behavior didn't look forced," Negril muttered, glancing at Ang, who nodded, confirming the hooded one's words.

"The Chaos Temple split us into several groups and ordered simultaneous insect plagues from different locations."

"Simultaneous?" Negril caught a key word.

"Yes, simultaneous—to create maximum chaos, overwhelm human defenses, and let billions of insects sweep across the human world," the hooded soul said.

"Wait, wait—sweep across the human world? What about the elf forests?" Negril was stunned.

If these insects were locust variants capable of devouring plants, elf territories should be their primary target—dense forests would let them multiply rapidly. Yet why mention only the human world and humans? Did they ignore the elves entirely?

"Ah, right—no, not the elf forests. Only human villages and cities. The Supreme Hemoer commanded us to break the alliance between humans and elves—choose one side to strike down," the hooded one said.

"That's a reasonable strategy—but if the elves aren't fools, they'll surely aid the humans, sending elite forces into the human world, leaving the elf forests vulnerable—then the insects invade from behind. Is that their plan?" Negril speculated.

"Ah? Ah! You've figured it out perfectly! The Supreme Hemoer only ordered us to harass the human world and create chaos—but never specified how much chaos counted as success. Of the ten pairs of insect messengers sent out, only six of us had specific missions—the other four didn't. It's very likely, as you guessed, that we're just distractions."

The hooded one's tone shifted three times—he was stunned by Negril's guess. Negril had merely speculated, but he had lived it; hearing it, he instantly had a 70% certainty the guess was true.

"So besides you, there are nine other pairs of liches, all crawling with insects, running around?" Negril asked.

"Not all are liches—five pairs are humans, one pair is an elf."

"Do you know where this is?"

"No."

"This is Dragonfall Lake. A thousand kilometers around is desert. Even if you bred more insects here, how would they fly out of the desert?"

"What?!" The hooded one froze, then cursed bitterly: "Those merchants!" Clearly, he realized he'd been tricked by Domit and the others.

Cross-referencing with Ang's memory search confirmed the hooded one wasn't lying; Negril honored his word and spared him. As they prepared to discuss next steps, Lisa teleported into the dragon lair and rushed over: "My lord, the Dragon Hunter, Queen Galed of the Elves, requests an audience."

"Me?" Negril was surprised.

"No, she wants to see my lord. She seeks your help," Lisa said.

"Soliciting aid? Has the insect plague already broken out in her lands?" Negril asked.