Chapter 162: So Many Ships

"Uh, seems I ate too much." Negrilis was speechless.

It had heard humans' stomachs were fragile: too much food bad, too little bad, cold bad, too hot bad, hard bad, too soft bad, grains had to be husked before eating, or they'd starve from being unable to swallow—utterly useless.

What could be done? Ange came to save Luo, unleashing a barrage of Purification Spells. Not only did it cure her acute gastroenteritis, it healed her old injuries too, and cleansed away all dirt on her body.

In a few breaths, a gaunt, emaciated, filthy madwoman became a clean, pale, slender beauty.

Her matted hair, once knotted into a single clump, now fell loose over her shoulders—dry and split at the ends, but otherwise not much different from hair washed regularly.

The miraculous effect of the Purification Spell left Negrilis marveling: "This Purification Spell is too awesome. If you ever quit farming, open a bathhouse and wash people for a living—you'd make a fortune. Only someone like Lisa could define such holy light."

The effect of the Purification Spell was defined by Lisa; Ange merely provided the holy light.

After the dirt and wounds were cleansed, Kelai 's mother was left with only "thinness." She wasn't an undead, so holy light couldn't plump her up—she needed to eat.

Kelai 's mother vaguely patted her belly, perhaps wondering why the pain was gone, then looked up and gave Kelai a dumb smile, grabbing the uneaten biscuit and gnawing again.

"Still dumb? Looks like her mental issues aren't physical—they're psychological. Anthony's more experienced with this." Negrilis murmured.

Seeing this, Kelai no longer hesitated, scrambling over and kowtowing to Negrilis: "I'll do it, I'll do it! Just feed and house me and my mom—I'll do anything, anything at all!"

"No, no, no!" Negrilis waved its hands frantically: "This one—this is the true master, the God of Undeath. Everything comes from his grace."

…

The grain merchant was brought before Ange, and his attention was instantly stunned by the mountain of grain sacks piled behind him: "I, I, I, this, this, this…"

Negrilis sighed. Silvercoin the merchant would've been better suited for this occasion—or even Lisa. But neither was here, so it had no choice but to step up.

"Do you know the Temple of Undeath?" Negrilis asked.

The merchant glanced at Ange, then shook his head.

"Look, this is a Soulfire. Kneel before it, offer your devotion, and if its flame rises high enough, you can get grain at a discount—or even for free." Negrilis said.

"Really? How high for free?" The merchant's eyes lit up.

"Here," Negrilis gestured to one mark, then another: "Here, half price. Here, one-third price."

The merchant shot forward, thudding his head against the ground three times—Soulfire's flame surged straight to the free tier.

Negrilis glanced at the merchant, then turned to Ange: "So devout?"

Ange tilted his head, watching the thick soulflame rushing toward him. Not just devout—it was excessive. Clearly, the merchant's belief in free grain was utterly sincere.

Negrilis tossed a sack of grain before the merchant: "That's it. Devout? Free. Not so devout? Discount. No faith at all? Full price. You manage these grain stores. When they run out, go to Luo Ge's people. Luo Ge will send someone back."

"Me? Manage them? Really? You're not worried I'll steal the grain?" The merchant stared, incredulous.

When Kelai kowtowed to it, Negrilis realized the problem: it had been overstepping lately. This didn't suit its role as Dragon Chief Strategist.

Ange didn't care about such things—but Ange was the holder of the God of Undeath's divine essence. What if others confused the object of worship, misdirected their offerings, and sent soulflame to the wrong account?

Lately, the number of believers hadn't grown at all. What if the halo ran out of soulflame?

So it simply made Ange stand at the front, and created several Soulfires to harvest a wave of believers.

Ange was bored, when suddenly he heard "steal" and "grain." He reached out, gripping—his massive scythe appeared in hand, glaring fiercely at the merchant.

The merchant's legs went weak; he collapsed to the ground with a thud.

"Stealing someone else's grain might kill you. Stealing ours? Even death won't come easily." Negrilis said.

…

Kelai held his mother, looking up to see a dark shadow plunging from the clouds—he turned pale: "Dragon, dragon, dragon!"

The goblin airship had mutinied; the Holy Spirit Angels were tied down, forbidden to fly. Control of the sky over Dark City had shifted: Bone Dragons and the young silver dragon White Throat patrolled the skies, shooting down all aerial units.

Of course, that was just theory—for now, none had been shot down.

Besides White Throat and the Bone Dragon, there was also Nai Aili. The Bone Dragon had no intelligence; White Throat was too young. Leaving them aloft was risky, so Nai Aili was left behind too—her main job: judge if the enemy was too strong, then drag Bone Dragon and White Throat away fast.

Nai Aili hated flying, so it napped on the Bone Dragon's back. To nap better, it had people tie a rope net onto the dragon's back—like those used on ships.

Once lying on it, its claws and hind limbs slipped into the net, securing itself firmly. Unless the Bone Dragon made drastic maneuvers, it wouldn't fall.

As for the little zombies and little angels, the Bone Dragon's nostrils were their Zhuanshu seats. They loved curling up inside the nasal cavity, poking their little heads out, howling. Now, villages near Drowning Dragon Lake had begun spreading legends that dragons howled.

Watching the twenty-meter behemoth land before them, Kelai was stunned. His mother was even more so—drooling blankly, then suddenly speaking clearly: "Dragon!"

It was one of the rare times she made a sound.

Kelai 's belongings—including the silkworms—had already been stuffed into the Palace of Rest. Even big ones like Purple Corpse and Thunder couldn't ride the dragon; they'd make it unable to fly.

Trembling, Kelai climbed aboard and immediately clung tightly to the rope net. Soon after, the Bone Dragon lifted into the air.

Back at the oasis, Ange immediately plucked a leaf from the World Tree, placing the silkworms on it to see if they'd eat—but they curled into a tight ball, showing no sign of eating.

"Master, it's probably not the leaf. They eat grass too, and tree leaves are tastier than grass. Maybe it's the temperature and humidity—here it's too hot and too dry." Kelai said.

Negrilis snorted. These weren't ordinary leaves—they were World Tree leaves. It had only spoken casually before, never expecting Ange to remember and pluck old World Tree leaves the moment he returned, as if afraid they'd eat themselves to death.

Inside the sandstone house, a few spells lowered the indoor temperature to a suitable level. Spraying water on the silkworms, soon they slowly uncurled.

On their front side: a tiny mouth, two tiny black-bean eyes. As they uncurled, they bent their bodies, nudging their bellies with their heads, rubbing and rubbing—like washing their faces.

"Wow, such cute bugs! Master, where did you get them?" Lisa, Anna, Shafia, and the other women left behind gathered around, instantly captivated by the plump, white silkworms.

"Fat, white, tender, crispy—roasted, they'd be delicious," Anna said.

Shafia nodded: "Like jujube worms. Roast them, sprinkle spices, bite down—pop! Bursting with fragrance. These bugs are bigger—they'll be even better."

Amid the women's chatter, the oblivious silkworms happily munched the old leaves.

World Tree old leaves were old relative to new buds—any fully grown leaf counted as old. Each was lush, green, thick, and burst with juice when pinched.

The silkworms clearly loved them, munching happily—but soon after, they flipped onto their backs, lying stiff as corpses. Had they not still breathed, Ange would've thought them dead.

Kelai had never seen this before. He guessed: "Maybe they're full. Sometimes when they're full, they do this."

"Sometimes?" Lisa and the others turned their heads sharply. Sometimes full? That sounded like abuse. Didn't they even let the silkworms eat their fill?

"Yeah, sometimes full. I don't even eat my fill. How could they?"

Seeing the silkworms wouldn't wake up anytime soon, everyone gradually dispersed. Lisa then noticed Kelai 's mother curled in the corner. After an explanation, she sighed sympathetically:

"Oh dear, so thin—how much suffering must she have endured? No clothes, just wrapped in rags. But she's clean. Come, sister will take you to change clothes."

As Lisa moved to lead Kelai 's mother away, the woman screamed, broke free, and darted behind Kelai.

"This bad?" Lisa realized she couldn't handle it. "We must find Master Anthony."

Kelai and his mother, along with the silkworms, settled into the sandstone house.

The next morning, Kelai excitedly rushed to Ange with a roll of white cloth: "Master! We wove it! We wove it! The silkworms laid eggs too! These leaves are amazing—they grew so fast!"

The silkworms not only ate World Tree leaves, they grew fast. Overnight, they'd laid several eggs—still unhatched, but once hatched, their numbers would multiply many times over.

Most importantly, they'd woven cloth. In one night, they'd produced a roll longer than the one Kelai had sold at the market—back then, it took days to weave that much.

"Oh, oh! This cloth seems fireproof. Besides fireproof, any other properties? If it gains one more, its value could multiply a hundredfold." Negrilis exclaimed.

After testing, the second roll of silk cloth was electric-proof, didn't deform or shrink when wet, dried quickly, absorbed sweat, kept warm, was breathable, resisted tearing, and blocked punctures—nearly every desirable fabric trait was present. Extremely miraculous.

The first roll of silk cloth was only fireproof, not electric-proof, and its other advantages were greatly diminished.

"Could it be because they ate World Tree leaves? Such a huge performance boost?" Negrilis was astonished.

To find out why the silk cloth's performance had improved so much, Ange began his favorite method: controlled experiments. He divided the silkworms into several trays: one fed ordinary leaves, one fed World Tree leaves, one fed fruit and grain.

Silkworms fed ordinary leaves produced fireproof silk cloth. Those fed World Tree leaves produced electric-proof, high-performance silk cloth. Those fed fruit and grain produced ordinary silk cloth—no magical properties at all.

"Your silkworms are too amazing! Just because of different food, their silk has different properties. Try other foods—can they spin silk immune to water? Even holy light? Yes! Holy Mushrooms! Ange, feed them holy mushrooms and see if they'll eat!" Negrilis had a sudden idea.

A new control group was added: first, feed holy mushrooms—but the silkworms refused.

Sprinkle holy mushroom powder on World Tree leaves. When the silkworms nibbled, they inevitably ingested some. Sure enough, the silk cloth produced showed slight suppression of holy light—though not full immunity, it weakened its damage.

This holy light, of course, wasn't Ange's holy light—it was the orthodox Holy Church's holy light. Why did orthodox holy light exist? Didn't they capture a Holy Spirit Angel last time? Its holy light was pure.

Lisa immediately cut a dress for the little angel from the holy-light-silk cloth.

"Come on, try casting holy light—see if it burns the dress again."

The little angel's eyes lit up, looked at Ange, received permission, then eagerly cast a spell toward an empty spot far away.

The holy-light-silk dress hissed, emitting white smoke—but didn't burn.

"Good. The silk quality is excellent." Lisa's eyes gleamed, already imagining what styles to make with the silk cloth.

…

Days passed. In three months, the shores of Drowning Dragon Lake were awash with swaying golden rice ears, heavy stalks bending under their weight.

Negrilis saw it and could only sigh: "This is a bountiful year."

Ange, however, scribbled in a small notebook.

"What are you writing?" Negrilis asked curiously.

"These need to resist lodging." Ange pointed to the rice stalks bent under their own weight.

Negrilis scratched its head with a tiny claw, staying silent.

Ange's knowledge of cultivation was far beyond Negrilis's understanding, especially after obtaining the notes of Spring Wind Great Virtue Yi Yi. What he did now was even more incomprehensible, so now Negrilis mostly just asked questions, updated its knowledge base, and refrained from speaking rashly.

"So much rice—how do we harvest it? After harvesting, how do we store it? After storing, how do we consume it? Can't just plant and ignore it like before?" Negrilis shrewdly changed the subject.

Ange tilted his head, puzzled: "Just plant."

Clearly, he hadn't considered what to do after harvest. He couldn't bury it nearby like in the Palace of Rest—the ground here was too damp, sometimes rained, and grain would rot, so he simply ignored it.

Negrilis wanted to spit blood. Just then, John ran over: "Master! Ships! So many ships!"