Chapter 219

Sensing Ang following, Shamala, hidden among the women, quietly fell to the rear of the column; after passing a building, she easily broke away from the group and walked toward Ang.

Ang said to Brandu: "You all leave."

Young Brandu exclaimed: "Leave? That's not right—we're supposed to protect you."

Before he finished speaking, Brandu grabbed his collar and dragged him off: "You talk too much."

They walked all the way to a corner hundreds of meters away, where Ang's shadow was no longer visible, before stopping.

"Idiot, does our lord need your protection? We're just putting on a show to scare people off. Know your place—whatever our lord tells you to do, you do it. Don't ask questions. What if our lord is meeting a secret lover? If you hear something you shouldn't, you'll all die." Brandu cursed, furious at his incompetence.

Shamala, mistakenly thought to be Ang's secret lover, trudged over reluctantly: "Why are you here?"

Why does this guy show up everywhere! Shamala's heart felt helpless.

In the Abyss of Rest, she had fled in haste, just to avoid these people again—because she realized the longer she stayed with them, the more her inner convictions wavered.

They were heretics, yet their ways of interacting and behaving were purer than the purest child.

And Ang possessed the purest holy light, which held a deadly allure for her—but a voice inside her constantly warned: Don't move! Don't move! You'll die!

So Shamala fled the Abyss of Rest at top speed, putting great distance between herself and these people—yet despite having escaped across two planes, she still encountered them.

This made her deeply resentful toward the voice inside her: Why not?!

The inner voice: Deviation from the Divine is too great.

"Saving people—why are you here?" This was also what Ang wanted to know.

Shamala hesitated: "I sensed Luna's aura. My inner voice told me, come here—you'll find the answer."

"Luna?" Negril's voice rang out from Ang's body: "Didn't Luna already dissipate?"

Shamala shook her head: "I don't know. I only know that coming here might lead to the answer."

"Your ability is truly random…" Negril didn't know what to say. Shamala had undoubtedly awakened some kind of divine perception skill—her intuition was incredibly strong.

But what she sensed was too vague—better off without it, because she had no idea how dangerous what she sensed was, yet she charged straight ahead. Still, if used properly, this ability was very useful.

"So where are you going now? Into the city? What's your current identity?" Negril asked.

"Yes, into the city. I'm posing as a laundry worker, but the foreman keeps harassing me." Shamala grumbled.

"How about this?" Negril suggested: "Use your premonition to help us rescue someone. Once we get them out, we'll take you into the city."

Shamala hesitated, looking at Ang. Thinking of his pure holy light—she'd surely slip into the city more easily than she could—her heart stirred.

Mostly because that fat foreman in the laundry crew kept harassing her—she was sick of it.

Since childhood, she'd been raised as a holy maiden, a key target of the Church's training—she'd never experienced the Church's corruption or the suffering of the mortal world. Faced with this, all she felt was disgust and helplessness. Unless she gave up on entering the city, she had no choice but to endure it.

But being near Ang, that pure holy light was lethally attractive to her—she truly feared that one day she'd lose control and try to steal his holy light, only to be crushed by him.

"Hey, Sha-la, why'd you stop? Why aren't you keeping up?" A fat, bloated man turned the corner from afar and shouted toward Shamala:

"Don't tell me you don't want to work anymore? You fought hard to get a chance to come to the Abyss. Even if you don't want to, you have to earn back your teleportation fee. I always wondered why such a beautiful girl would come to the Abyss—turns out you're here for men. This is a slum—what's there to find…"

The fat man walked closer, reaching out to grab Shamala.

"I'll go with you to save them." Shamala said, then turned and punched the foreman square in his fat face, knocking him down, then pounced on him with fists and kicks—by the end, the foreman was unrecognizable and unconscious.

Shamala stood up, refreshed, and said to Ang: "Come on—who are we saving?"

"A dimensional beast," Negril said.

"The one beside the teleportation array?" Shamala asked. She'd seen it when she exited the transit hub.

Finding Brandu, Ang pulled out ten magic crystals. Negril said: "Find a place to stay. I have something to handle. I'll find you again after."

Brandu immediately bowed: "Yes, my lord!" Without another word, he turned and led his son and nephew away.

After walking some distance, the three exchanged a quiet glance, each wearing an expression of "I knew it."

"See that? Did you remember what I said? Forget everything you saw. Even in your dreams, don't utter a single word."

"Yes!"

After sending Brandu and the others away, Ang led Shamala straight into the mine shaft.

After centuries of mining, the vein had long been exhausted, leaving only an abandoned shaft. Some destitute people without homes had taken shelter here; upon seeing Ang approach, they either scattered like birds and beasts, or lay motionless like corpses.

Inside the mine tunnels, even the people were gone—the poor didn't venture deep, for the tunnels branched everywhere, dark and slick, and they had no torches. Go too far, and they'd easily get lost and starve to death inside.

Entering the empty mine tunnel, Ang immediately pulled out Huang Tong, the little zombie, the little angel, Lu Se, and Seren Na. They were nearly suffocated.

"Hahahaha…" Lu Se gasped desperately as soon as he emerged: "My lord, the air here—I can't breathe."

"Me too—I can't breathe," Seren Na echoed.

"Living people are such a hassle. Fine, don't come out again. Put them back," Negril sighed.

Lu Se quickly waved his hands: "We'll stay outside. Don't make me go back in—it's unbearably boring."

The Palace of Rest was too dull. Last time, when they killed Nicolas, Lu Se had been locked inside for half a month—he never wanted to go back.

The entire area was barely dozens of square kilometers, mostly dark, gloomy soil and palaces. Standing there too long made you feel like your body was drying out.

Only near the farm, protected by a barrier, was it tolerable for living people—but the farm was only three thousand mu, visible end to end. What was there to enjoy?

At that moment, Shamala summoned a black holy flame and slapped it onto Seren Na 's back.

"Ssshh—" Seren Na took a deep breath, astonished: "Wait—I can breathe now!"

Negril suddenly realized: "Oh right—you're alive too. How are you breathing?"

"Just a minor blessing," Shamala said dismissively, then summoned another holy flame and slapped it onto Lu Se.

Lu Se instantly breathed easier, giving Shamala a thumbs-up.

"Alright, now tell me your plan—how are you going to save that dimensional beast? Get it done fast—I need to get into the city. I feel something's about to happen there." Shamala frowned.

"We didn't know what to do—the guards are too tight. But now that you're here, we can try approaching it through the underground mine tunnels." Negril said.

"Me? I've never been here. How would I know which tunnel leads close?" Shamala asked, surprised.

Negril smiled: "Of course, rely on your premonition. Come on—do you feel this tunnel can get close to the dimensional beast's seal aboveground?"

Shamala's legs went weak; she gasped: "You're not seriously asking me to test every tunnel one by one, are you?"

Negril nodded as if it were obvious.

Forced into it, Shamala had no choice but to test each tunnel. At every new tunnel, Negril asked the same question: "Can this tunnel get close to the dimensional beast's seal aboveground?"

She either shook her head or nodded. On the final nod, they entered a dead end.

"Huh? No way out?" Negril exclaimed.

Shamala's face turned pale; she pointed upward. Premonition was a divine skill—each use drained her terribly. By now, she was utterly exhausted.

Ang placed his hand on her shoulder and released holy light.

The pure power surged into her, reviving her spirit; her eyes flashed with intense longing.

But quickly, she clenched her teeth, shut her eyes, refused to look or think, forcibly turning her attention away—because the voice inside her was screaming warnings again.

After replenishing her strength, Ang rose into the air and pressed both hands against the rock ceiling.

Negril said: "Your turn, Ang. Your Earth Rift technique is too undignified for loosening soil—it's perfect for digging tunnels. Use your precise control to confine the rift to a perfect circle, and dig straight up."

Ang sensed the earth elements within the rock, manipulated them, then sharply twisted them—CRACK—the rock above shattered silently, crumbling down in a shower of dust.

When the rocks cleared, a round hole, large enough for a person to pass through, appeared. Inside the circle, the surface was clean; outside, untouched.

Shamala and Seren Na were stunned—they now understood what Negril meant by "precise control."

Ang slipped into the hole, gripped the ceiling, and unleashed Earth Rift—the rock crashed down in a cascade.

Slowly, inch by inch, after thousands of Earth Rifts, Ang's hand touched a man-made foundation.

No one had ever cast thousands of Earth Rifts in succession—so no one would believe an enemy could tunnel up from below. This was a mining zone—underground was solid rock. Even if you dug, you couldn't do it silently, without a single sound.

Touching the stone, Ang dropped down through the tunnel.

"How's it going? Did you break through?" Negril asked.

Ang nodded, then said: "It's crying."

PS: I want to cry too—I ate something wrong: spicy boneless chicken claws and blood pudding—I almost had to go to the hospital tonight.