Chapter 158

The female mage tore off all her clothes, frantically slapping herself to confirm no insects were on her body, then sighed in relief—but that sigh was barely halfway out when she suddenly spotted Ang and his group: three people, one horse, one dragon, eight eyes staring at her, the "horse's" eyes covered up.

How to describe this feeling? It was like going to the toilet in total darkness, just squatting down when someone grabbed your butt: Someone's here!

The female mage screamed, one hand covering her face, the other slashing out.

A scene that horrified Negril appeared: the hand the female mage swung out actually tore open space, dragging forth a crescent-shaped dimensional slash.

Dimensional slash—a signature attack spell of space mages, possessing unstoppable power, because it cuts through the very space where the target resides.

If truly struck by a dimensional slash, only Ang transformed into Solid Bone Luoke could possibly withstand it.

But the dimensional slash wasn't what horrified Negril most; what shocked it was the female mage herself—she casually waved her hand and unleashed a dimensional slash; such terrifying power must be at least an Arcane Mage level.

In this pitch-black underground cave, where not even a ghost stirred, they'd just bumped into an Arcane Mage?

These two facts were shocking enough, but then something even more astonishing happened: the dimensional slash didn't leave her hand—instead, the female mage suddenly grabbed it and crushed it, crushed it…

The female mage covered her face with both hands and bowed deeply in apology: "Sorry sorry, you were here first, you didn't mean it, it was my rudeness, I'm sorry sorry."

As she spoke, she stepped forward a large step, and with a whoosh, her naked form vanished.

Negril and Lightning stared at each other, locking eyes—only then did Negril realize it had been a wasted effort; Lightning's eyeballs were as big as a horse's, and even with its claws stretched to the limit, it could only cover half…

"Pretty, huh? Naked humans?" Negril teased.

"Not pretty. Not even as pretty as the Bull-Headed Auntie." Lightning sneered.

"What?! You've seen Auntie Bull? I'm telling your mom—she specifically told us to watch you and not let you go bad!" Negril widened his eyes.

Lightning sneered dismissively: "Do I even need to learn?"

Indeed, he didn't need to learn—this dead horse was already rotten to the core.

Strong spatial fluctuations erupted again; the naked female mage, still covering her face, reappeared in the same spot, snatching up her staff—taller than a person—and said: "I lost something."

No sooner had the words left her lips than she vanished with a whoosh.

Negril felt his teeth ache; in these mere seconds since her appearance, the female mage had already used space teleportation four times—when did space teleportation become as common as cabbage? Or was this female mage so powerful she treated space teleportation like cabbage?

All eyes finally settled on the pile of robes and undergarments the female mage had torn off; everyone wondered: She'll come back soon.

Too bad they were wrong—two minutes later, the female mage still hadn't returned.

"When she was taking off her clothes, wasn't she yelling 'bugs, bugs'? Maybe there were bugs on them and she didn't want them anymore?" Lightning speculated.

"Possible." Negril flew over, picked up the clothes, and shook them vigorously—where were the bugs?

"With this female mage's power, what kind of bug could crawl on her?" Negril said.

No sooner had he spoken than Negril and Lightning's eyes lit up simultaneously—here, in this place, what kind of bug could there possibly be?

"If she's naturally terrified of bugs, and swarms of beetles and insects swarm over her, wouldn't she be terrified? Some fears are innate—I remember my mom hated fleas so much that whenever one appeared at home, she'd replace everything." Lightning grumbled.

"Nai Aili is the same. Several times, if I hadn't stopped her, she'd have blasted herself with dragonfire. You know? She sent her Dragon Speaker to worship Ang just to learn Purify Spell to cleanse her of tiny bugs." Negril sighed, gathering up the robes—maybe he'd return them to her the next time they met.

As he gathered and squeezed, he felt something inside—pulled it out: two books and a bag. One was *The Mad Space Mage's Notebook*, the other *The Applied Magic Codex of Space Mages*; the bag was a magical space pouch.

"No way it's this coincidental," Negril muttered in disbelief, flipping open the *Applied Magic Codex*.

The thin, half-finger-thick "magic codex" instantly swelled into a two-palm-thick tome the moment opened, its weight becoming that of a proper tome—it dropped straight from Negril's hands.

After hitting the ground, the cover snapped shut and shrank back to its original thin, half-finger thickness.

Negril whistled: "Even a book uses space compression? That's ridiculously extravagant."

He picked it up, flew back, placed the book on Lightning's back, and flipped it again.

"You're using me as a bookshelf? Besides, Nai Aili—before Purify Spell existed, how did she manage? Should I train a divine practitioner who knows Purify Spell and send one to my mom?" Lightning said.

"She used to be big enough that tiny bugs were invisible; now she's small, so normal bugs are clearly visible, making her more and more intolerant," Negril said as he flipped the pages—the thin book swelled into a tome.

Negril immediately turned to the index, then flipped to the page number, quickly finding what he wanted—*Teleportation Scrolls: From Beginner to Mastery*.

He opened the magical space pouch—wow, packed full of blank magic scrolls, two of which were already copied and stuck at the pouch's mouth, so even without looking, he could reach in and grab them.

Clearly, to allow quick insertion and removal of scrolls, the pouch had no magic lock—perfect for Ang and his group.

"Alright, we can copy teleportation scrolls now. Thank you, female mage. Thank you, Goddess of Luck." The outcome left Negril both amused and exasperated.

Just moments ago, they'd wished for teleportation scrolls—and now blank scrolls appeared right before them, and to make sure they copied correctly, they even got a space magic codex as a bonus.

Negril couldn't resist flipping open the second book, *The Mad Space Mage's Notebook*. Notebooks like this were deeply personal—equivalent to a mage's diary—and out of courtesy, Negril hadn't planned to read it.

But the title was too tempting: Why was it called *The "Mad" Space Mage's Notebook*? Was the mage named "Mad"? Or was he currently going mad?

He flipped two pages, then immediately shut it, cursing: "Mad."

"What did it say?" Lightning asked curiously.

"Didn't understand—just crazy lines and numbers." Negril said awkwardly.

Lightning sneered: "You don't understand, so you call them mad? Pfft."

"I didn't say it—she did." Negril held up the book's page showing the name, deeply feeling how apt it was:

"Ang, take this. Return it to that girl someday. We'll use her blank scrolls without asking—consider it payment for holding onto her books."

"Oh." Ang took it and placed it inside the Palace of Rest.

But before they could begin copying scrolls, rumbling, rumbling—the stone door behind them trembled and slowly opened.

As soon as the door cracked open, countless insects surged out like a tide, flying or crawling toward Ang and his group.

Negril gasped, suddenly understanding why the formidable female mage had screamed and torn off all her clothes—this sight made even his scalp tingle: "Didn't that mage just poke a bug nest?"

Ang stomped hard on his footprint—the halo instantly sealed the stone door; anything emerging from within entered the Death Speed halo's range, accelerating their lifespans.

Creatures that normally lived two or three days died after crawling only three or five meters—flipping over, twitching legs, dead. Flying insects moved faster, but their lifespans were even shorter—they too fell fluttering down after flying three or five meters.

In moments, a thick pile of insect corpses accumulated within a semicircle of three to five meters from the door, quickly blocking it entirely.

"The corpses… blocked it?" On the stone steps inside, a cloaked figure muttered in shock.

He realized the insects he commanded were trapped inside the door and dying en masse: "How are they dying? Even standing still shouldn't kill them this fast—and now they're blocking the door with corpses? Eat the corpses!"

Without any visible control, the insects began devouring their own dead—but this didn't slow their death rate, because this wasn't a blocking spell—it was a range-effect halo. Even if corpses blocked the insects inside the door, those inside still suffered the halo's effect.

Only when they escaped the halo's range did they stop being affected—they and the dead formed a clear dividing line: one side, corpses; the other, living insects.

He realized something—his whole body trembled: "This… this is Life Acceleration? The legendary Life Acceleration?"

The cloaked figure didn't fear—he rejoiced. He pulled out a long-winged beetle—the so-called Winged Emperor—but his specimen was as large as an open palm.

He placed the Winged Emperor on the ground, stepped into the halo's range, and began pulling out the insect corpses to feed it.

The cloaked figure seemed unaffected by the halo; his withered hands clearly marked him as a lich.

Watching the Winged Emperor eat its fill, the cloaked figure whistled—the beetle immediately crawled toward him. As it approached, it entered the halo's range, and its form visibly changed.

This transformation drove the Winged Emperor into a frenzy, frantically devouring the corpses.

As it ate, the Winged Emperor suddenly twisted its head.

Other animals twist their heads and their bodies follow—but not this one. It twisted its head while its body stayed still—splitting its upper half cleanly from its lower half.

Each half rapidly grew the missing portion, becoming two separate Winged Emperors.

The cloaked figure had already stepped out of the halo's range. He whistled again.

The two Winged Emperors immediately turned and moved toward him, exiting the halo's range.

Once outside the halo, their changes halted—the newly grown parts slowly hardened into carapace, no longer soft and fragile.

After a pause, the cloaked figure guided them back into the halo, where they frenziedly devoured corpses; both grew visibly larger, reaching the size of watermelons. They twisted their heads again—splitting into four.

Four Winged Emperors formed. The cloaked figure led them out, let them strengthen, then brought them back in to devour and grow.

Repeating this cycle, half an hour later, eight creatures stood beside him: winged, jointed limbs like scythes, two pairs of jointed legs, half a person's height, resembling praying mantises.

If Negril knew the cloaked man was using the Death Speed halo to accelerate beetle breeding, he'd have long ordered Ang to shut off the halo.

This halo, a near-perfect antithesis to beetles, could be used to accelerate breeding—like a spell named "Death Speed" being used to grow crops.

Watching the scythe-like jointed limbs on one mantis-beetle's upper body, the cloaked figure pulled out an iron plaque and dragged it across the serrated scythe-blade—*ssss*—the one-inch-thick iron plaque was sawn halfway through.

"Hahaha!" The cloaked figure laughed loudly, tossing the iron plaque—engraved with "Supreme Chaos"—aside, muttering excitedly: "Even one-inch iron can be sawn through—thicker iron cans won't stop it. If I can inherit this trait, my insect army will be an unstoppable tide of death!"

He paused, gazing at the steps, eyes gleaming: "But no trait compares to Life Acceleration. Who's casting Life Acceleration? If I could obtain this power, even Hemoelthos would bow to me!"

All these insect-controlling cultists were theoretically followers of Hemoelthos—yet here was one with blasphemous thoughts, daring to declare Hemoelthos would bow to him?

Such treasonous thoughts were like a little zombie yelling at Ang to dig up his field—anyone else would've been crushed on the spot.

Yet the cloaked figure wasn't crushed—instead, his "aura" suddenly intensified slightly.

Other people's "aura" meant scent, soul fluctuations, magical fluctuations—but the cloaked figure's "aura" was pheromones. The sudden surge of pheromones made every insect around him agitated—including the eight mantis-beetles.

"I must capture that Life Acceleration caster! Attack! I'll clear the way!" He thrust out his hands and began digging through the blocked steps.

Digging through insect corpses was exhausting work, and the halo accelerated his own lifespan—he wouldn't waste his newly bred mantis-beetles on this. He planned to dig open the path himself, then let the mantis-beetles charge out under Life Acceleration to shred the enemy.

But as he dug, the cloaked figure suddenly felt emptiness ahead—the insect corpses revealed a little zombie, holding two hoes, digging upward from below—he was digging, and the zombie was digging too, nearly reaching him.

The cloaked figure leapt back in shock, pointing at the zombie: "Kill!"

The eight mantis-beetles lunged forward.

But before they reached him, the little zombie had already scrambled and rolled upward, screaming "Aoo! Aoo!"

As the eight mantis-beetles burst out of the stone door behind the zombie, they faced a wall of explosive fireballs—dense as a thousand torches in the dark cave.

A violent flash of flame—when the cloaked figure charged up, he saw only eight charred, smoldering silhouettes of the mantis-beetles.

The cloaked figure froze, helpless—he realized he'd underestimated the enemy's strength. These people weren't just capable of Life Acceleration—they were formidable in conventional combat too.

After burning the eight mantis-beetles to ash, Ang turned his gaze to the cloaked figure—a new row of explosive fireballs appeared before him.

The cloaked figure instantly dropped to his knees: "Don't kill me! I'll give you anything! Whoever you're looking for, I'll lead you to them! Bugs? I'll raise them for you! Money? I'll steal it! Kill someone? I'll do it! Don't kill me!"

The cloaked figure's shout stunned Negril: "You yelled that so smoothly—you practiced, didn't you?"