Chapter 201

Jelika tapped her shoulder in salute: "We must guard the border and cannot accompany you to the Sacred Land. Go on your own—the forest will show you the way."

She saluted each one in turn, and when it came to Andong, she tapped her shoulder again—but curled her pinky finger upward, refusing to even glance at Andong.

Confused as they walked away, Andong couldn't help asking: "God of Knowledge, do you know what that gesture means? Why did she do it only to me? Is she into me? That won't do—I haven't been with a woman in years. Sure, this elf girl isn't bad-looking, but women are too much trouble. I'm better off alone. How do I turn her down?"

Negriss sneered: "You're imagining things. She's mocking you for looking like a male elf with a tiny dong. Elves aren't like humans—they're a matriarchal society. Female elves hold power and strength; male elves are lower in status. That gesture is like your humans calling someone 'effeminate.' She's calling you a sissy—probably because you cheated while drinking."

Andong wasn't angry—he nodded in understanding: "So that's what it means. But drinking's bad anyway—it messes with your nerves and my punch speed. Size doesn't matter. You were plenty 'big' in life, yet never used it."

"Kuabada, I'll kill you!" Negriss leapt up and lashed out with its tail.

Lightning and Black Horse burst into raucous laughter. Ang and the little angel zombie stared blankly.

Thus, the group trudged noisily into the forest's depths, utterly unaware that the path they'd come by was swiftly smothered by wildly growing grasses and vines—within minutes, not a trace remained of their passage.

As they walked, Ang suddenly patted Lightning's neck. Lightning halted instantly, glancing around in confusion.

Andong also stopped, scanning the surroundings. Soon he sensed something wrong and barked: "Who's there?"

The entire forest trembled, as if brushed by a gentle wind, rustling with a soft shush-shush-shush. An ancient voice spoke: "It's me."

"God of Life? Didn't you tell us to come find you? Why did you come here? Too polite!" Negriss exclaimed.

"You're too slow," the God of Life replied, tinged with faint impatience and disdain.

"So what if we're slow? You've got nine thousand years left! I might not even outlive you after one rebirth. Why the rush?" Negriss was even more disdainful—mixed with a hint of envy.

The God of Life sighed: "That's under healthy conditions. Now, I'm ill. I won't live that long."

"What? You're dying? No way!" Negriss gasped, urgently asking: "How much time do you have? Did you rush over because you can't wait even a few days?"

The God of Life spoke slowly: "Withering may take three thousand years…"

"Three thousand years? Phew, then why the panic? You scared me half to death." Negriss exhaled in relief.

The God of Life's voice continued unhurriedly: "But I sense my consciousness will fade soon. If I don't come now, when you find me, you'll see only a giant tree whose life has vanished."

Negriss nearly bit its tongue—this damn tree, at a time like this, still drags out its words! Can't it just spit it all out at once?

Calm down, calm down—forcing itself to steady, Negriss's thoughts raced, a flood of possibilities flashing through its mind.

The death of the World Tree would trigger a chain reaction, reshaping the entire plane's balance, even sparking violent upheaval.

First, elves, stripped of the World Tree's protection, would rapidly sink to a second-rate species.

This isn't a joke. Sure, elves are long-lived and individually powerful, with countless Truth-tier Qiangzhe —but they're naive.

Species competition is brutal: survival of the fittest, natural selection. The plane holds so many powerful species—individually strong like dragons, numerous like orcs, technologically advanced like gnomes, warlike like dwarves—yet only humans and elves remain as equals.

Elves can stand against humans solely because of the World Tree's protection. Lose that, and they'll plummet to the same level as dwarves.

They'll fare worse than dwarves—because they're too beautiful. Without strength, humans will hunt and capture them en masse, turning them into slaves and playthings, forcing them to hide in forests, barely clinging to life.

To avoid this tragic fate, elves must launch a war to exterminate humans before the World Tree's influence fades.

But elves won't do it—they're too naive. And humans aren't easy to defeat either. Who wipes out whom remains uncertain.

So if the World Tree dies and no new one replaces it to protect them, the elves' decline is inevitable.

Not just Negriss saw this—Queen Galad and the elves' sages saw it too. That's why they urgently sought to cultivate a new World Tree.

Unfortunately, without Ang helping grow a batch of seedlings, they wouldn't even have a shadow of a new World Tree.

Yet now that the new World Tree seedling has sprouted, whether it can become the new God of Life, whether it can continue protecting the elves—still unknown. The new World Tree has no self-awareness.

Negriss had assumed the elves had nine thousand years to take their time—perhaps even buy more seedlings from Ang. But now the God of Life says consciousness will vanish soon—this problem just became dire.

"Then… what do we do? Can we help you?" Negriss was utterly flustered—then suddenly remembered something and turned to Ang.

"Birth, aging, sickness, decay—all are part of life. Nothing needs helping," the God of Life said calmly, utterly unconcerned about its impending 'death.'

"But aren't you worried about the elves?" Negriss asked.

The God of Life's tone remained flat: "Elves are merely one species among many that coexist with me—no different from flowers, trees, snakes, insects, rodents, fungi. Hmm, they're smarter. They should manage fine on their own."

Hearing this, Negriss realized it had misunderstood. Because of the elves, most people saw the Tree of Life as their guardian deity—completely forgetting the Tree of Life protects not just elves, but the entire forest. It is the forest's guardian.

To it, elves are no different from other forest creatures. The only distinction is intelligence—but unicorns are intelligent, nightblades are intelligent, bear goblins are intelligent too.

No wonder its tone toward elves was always indifferent—even when they tried to restrict seed dispersal, it didn't care. Perhaps it saw all of this as part of life. Otherwise, if it wished, any bird or beast could carry seeds away.

Not worried about elves, no help needed—then why did it rush here? To see its final moment? Negriss didn't think it had that much prestige. Helplessly, it asked: "Then why did you summon us?"

"Two things…" The God of Life droned on, making Negriss want to scream into its soul—afraid it would die mid-sentence.

"First: What is this? I sense my own aura on it. Did I mate with someone?" As the God of Life spoke, a glowing orb was 'grasped' by invisible force and floated before Ang and the others.

The orb, once seized, writhed violently, struggling to escape.

The familiar aura instantly revealed its identity—it was the 'spirit' that had fled from the Divine Body. Literally, a god-soul.

"You caught it? Of course—nothing escapes your notice in the forest," Negriss said.

"What is this thing?" the God of Life asked curiously.

Negriss explained the God-Seeding Plan.

"So that's how it is. This unnatural thing—vanish." The God of Life spoke softly, and instantly, a force crushed the 'spirit' into fragments.

Negriss screamed inwardly: Waste of a treasure! Why didn't you give it to us? Such a perfect specimen and energy source!

But it dared not speak aloud—the God of Life called it unnatural. How could it defy the God's own law? Besides, it was already too late.

Instead, Ang kept waving his hand, guiding the fragments toward him. The little angel bounced around like a butterfly hunter, snatching the drifting god-soul fragments.

"Second: I want to see the new Tree of Life," the God of Life's voice droned on.

Negriss noticed—the God of Life said "Tree of Life," not "World Tree." It froze. Did it mean the seedling? How did it know the seedling existed? How did it know it was with them?

"The Tree of Life you mean…?" Negriss ventured.

"The Immortal God carries the aura of the Tree of Life. It's with you, but I cannot sense its presence," the God of Life said.

Ang pulled out the seedling.

The seedling, used to sudden changes, was sluggish—but soon perked up, sensing the vastly different environment, thick with life energy.

It scrambled to the pot's rim, peering around. It saw trees, grasses, flowers—and one colossal life aura. Excited, it waved its branches, broadcasting a message: Grow—grow—grow!

The God of Life's tone carried unmistakable amusement: "Hehe, such a vibrant Tree of Life—just like me when I was young."

"Hehe, don't lie. You yourself said you had no consciousness when young," Negriss immediately exposed the lie.

"Huh? Did I say that? You're mistaken—you're old, you forget." The God of Life denied it outright.

A focused will settled on the seedling, making it even more excited—it waved its branches wildly: Whoosh—grow—Whoosh—grow!

The God of Life, like an ancient elder who'd seen all the world's sorrows, suddenly seeing his grandson arrive, laughed with every word: "Hehe, so full of vitality. This is the true Tree of Life. When I fade, you'll be the only Tree of Life left in the world."

Negriss felt a pang of sorrow—a super-being who'd lived ninety-one thousand years, vanishing before its eyes, and it could do nothing. Was immortality really so hard? Even the so-called God of Life couldn't achieve it?

"Growth, decay, death—these are natural laws. I cannot defy them. But I can give you a small gift." As the God of Life spoke, a tiny green speck floated into the air, then slowly drifted toward the seedling.

But before it touched the seedling, Ang reached out and caught the green speck. "What is this?"

His posture was like a parent stopping someone from feeding their child junk food.

"Some accumulated experience and knowledge from my growth. Some environments that shaped these experiences no longer exist. The seedling may never encounter them again—it won't gain these experiences naturally. Perhaps they'll be useful later," the God of Life said, unusually verbose.

Ang understood: the God of Life's original growth environment was unique. The seedling might never face the same conditions—and without experience, it couldn't respond.

If it ever did face such a situation, lacking experience could mean disaster or death.

Like the illness the God of Life now suffers—if the seedling ever encounters it again, it'll know how to respond.

Plants mostly rely on scale and evolution to fight pests and disease: let the unlucky wither and die, let the lucky evolve resistance and survive.

The World Tree cannot use this method. So the God of Life's accumulated knowledge is vital to the seedling.

Even though the God of Life explained, Ang carefully examined the green speck—confirmed it was harmless—then placed it gently on the seedling's head.

The seedling stared blankly as the green speck sank into its body, tilting its head in confusion.

Everyone gathered around, watching curiously.

Seeing so many heads looming near, the seedling instantly stopped being confused—it waved its branches and pointed at Negriss: Grow—grow! Grow—grow!

"Seems unchanged. Still dumb."

"Hehe, look around," the God of Life said, a hint of smugness in its tone—truly astonishing for a ninety-thousand-year-old being to show such emotion.

Everyone turned. All plants around them were growing wildly, visibly, at incredible speed.

Okay—accelerated seedling. Still just a seedling.

They'd expected some new ability to awaken. No such luck. Negriss sighed, discussed with Ang, got his permission, then told the God of Life: "We might be able to cure your illness. Let you live until your natural end."

Ang reached into the Palace of Rest, preparing to cut a branch of the Healing World Tree for the God of Life to see.

But as his hand entered, he sensed something wrong—the bald, muscular Divine Body had stood up, reaching out its hands as if warming itself by a fire toward Ang's hand.

Little ghost? Ang looked around—no sign of the little ghost. He cautiously summoned holy light.

The Divine Body eagerly pressed its hands toward the holy light, basking in it. But its bald head and bulging muscles made the pose absurd—muscleman warming by a fire?

Ang moved his bone hand—holy light drifted left. The Divine Body followed left. Drifted right—it followed right. Ang moved faster—the Divine Body panicked, suddenly hugging Ang's bone hand.