Chapter 228: The Merchant's Way

Ang was usually just a skeleton; if you threw him into the wilderness, he'd either squat somewhere or wander aimlessly, no different from ordinary skeletons—unless Negril pointed and directed him, he probably wouldn't even bother to move.

But whenever it came to this kind of thing, his initiative skyrocketed—he'd immediately ask Da Gu where the relay station was, then lead the group racing off in a flurry, leaving behind a group of bewildered refugees and Serina clutching the big cat.

Then the big cat leapt down from Serina's arms, turned to her with a low "awoo," and sprinted toward Ang's direction, its stumbling steps revealing its weakness.

Da Gu turned back and let out an "aw," and the big cat immediately nodded, leaping onto Da Gu's palm, climbing up his arm, and swiftly scaling to the top of his skull, where it plopped down, its flesh and fur drooping to neatly cover his cranium.

Da Gu said uneasily: "Be careful, okay? I'm too strong—I might break you."

Negril, up ahead, heard this and sneered, muttering: "If you could break a dimensional beast, your strength must be greater than that of a purple-gold skeleton."

…

Relay Tower No. 3 was located 120 kilometers from Shengbicheng; according to its 40-kilometer coverage range, a relay tower was placed every 40 kilometers to transmit the signal of the communication bone tiles—this was the third one, and its owner was Kleint.

After six hundred years of development, a small town had formed around Relay Tower No. 3, housing nearly a thousand people.

Kleint had just finished feeding the relay spirit and was slowly descending when his steward rushed up: "Master, the elders from town just came to visit you."

"Oh? Where are they now?"

"They just left," the steward said.

"Did they say what it was about?" Kleint asked.

The steward replied: "It's still about salt—all the salt was consumed days ago; now the townspeople are growing increasingly fatigued and can't even manage heavier tasks."

"Sigh, I've already sent out purchase requests, but I don't know when I'll get a reply—tell everyone to hold on a little longer," Kleint said wearily, though he held little hope.

Salt primarily came from humans; now that humans had been driven away, that source was cut off.

Although fleeing humans left behind many supplies—including salt—their reserves were finite; once the stored salt was gone and no new supply arrived, the humans he kept would still die.

Kleint now had to consider not just salt, but whether he could even continue sustaining these thousand-plus people.

What if he couldn't? Kill them all? Let them fend for themselves?

Since six hundred years ago, when Kleint was assigned here to manage Relay Tower No. 3, these humans and their ancestors had depended on him for survival.

Guarding a relay tower was an extremely dull job—you had to stay near the tower at all times, couldn't wander far, couldn't sleep like other undead who, when bored, would just nap for days on end.

They couldn't—they needed to remain constantly awake, feeding the relay spirit daily to keep the station operational; if even one relay tower stopped working, communication failed.

Staying awake for a year or two was manageable, but over time, the boredom drove one to despair; many suffered psychological breakdowns.

So relay towers offered excellent benefits: as long as you kept the relay spirit fed and it didn't go on strike, you could turn the area upside down and no one would care—it was effectively your private territory.

With a 40-kilometer coverage radius, the entire diameter became your domain—how vast an area that was.

As Kleint comforted himself: "The territory I rule would make me at least a count in the Prime Plane."

Of course, if he could swap, he'd gladly trade this land for even a single estate in the Prime Plane—even if it meant giving up his title.

What to do when bored? At first, Kleint didn't know—until one day, a farmer came with his wife and children, asking if they could settle on his land.

There was a river here that swelled during Eternal Night, perfect for farming and settlement.

Bored beyond endurance, Kleint welcomed them warmly, personally helping them dig a well and build huts so they could settle.

Kleint's warmth spread—word of mouth carried it far and wide; soon, more and more people came to settle here, and gradually, it became a small town.

As more settlers arrived, Kleint found he was no longer so bored—he could chat with the elders in town, play with children, even help repair houses and wells, harvest crops, or watch the auroras together during Eternal Night—all became pleasures.

Moreover, humans were incredibly resilient; given space, they farmed, grew food, bore children, and multiplied on their own—Kleint had offered little real help, merely allocating land, yet it slowly became a town.

The one thing humans couldn't manage was salt—they couldn't buy it, so they needed Kleint's help.

But now, even Kleint couldn't get salt; and in his foreseeable future, salt—and other necessities—would grow scarcer still. Could the Fallen Lands even sustain so many living beings?

It was a headache. After six hundred years together, Kleint couldn't just watch them die; to save them, he needed salt—even food.

Years of farming had steadily reduced the town's crop yields; for decades, he'd already had to buy grain from outside to fill the gap—and if this continued, the shortfall would only grow larger.

But expanding food production in the Fallen Lands wasn't easy—what could he do?

Don't think about it. Thinking gave him a soulache.

Suddenly, the steward returned, his expression strange: "Uh, Master, someone's come to visit."

This steward was a descendant of the first farmer Kleint had taken in; he and his ancestors had served as Kleint's steward, having seen every bizarre undead creature imaginable—why such a look at a visitor?

Kleint asked curiously: "Who is it?"

"A goblin."

Goblins? Of course, the Fallen Lands had goblins—creatures devoted to gold and engineering, wherever coin smelled, there they appeared.

But Relay Tower No. 3 had no trace of coin; Kleint was as poor as a ghost, possessing nothing valuable except accumulated soul crystals—he'd never had a single goblin visit him in six hundred years.

Of course, they might not have been able to come—goblins mainly clustered around human Shengbicheng.

Kleint, filled with intense curiosity, met the visiting goblin, who wore a warm smile:

"Forgive the intrusion—I hear you need salt? The Silver Guild humbly offers service. But since human Shengbicheng has fallen, soul crystals and magic crystals are hard to use—would you consider an alternative payment method?"

After hearing the coin's words, Kleint was completely stunned: "Can something like this even happen?"

"Of course. Here's the salt—just tell me a feasible method, and it's all yours, because we heard your conversation on the communication bone tiles and came directly. My boss wants a private territory like yours to cultivate things," Silver said sincerely and honestly.

As a goblin merchant, Silver had long mastered speaking undead-speak to undead, and "aw-aw" to Ang; the moment he saw Kleint, he knew exactly how to handle this kind of honest, kind old man.

"Aren't you afraid I'll steal it?" Kleint was stunned as Silver casually laid out a sack of salt—this goblin didn't look strong at all, yet he was so careless, showing zero caution?

Silver laughed: "Not at all. Unless you only want this one sack and never need more again, you won't cut off your own supply. And…"

As he said "and," Silver closed his eyes and shouted loudly: "Boss! This guy says he wants to steal our salt!"

The moment the words left his mouth, Kleint instantly felt the goblin's aura shift—a terrifying presence descended upon him. The next instant, Silver opened his eyes, his gaze seeming to freeze Kleint's soul.

After what felt like an eternity, Kleint felt someone waving a hand before his eyes, then a slap across his face—repeated slaps—until he finally snapped back to awareness, blinking dazedly: "Why did you hit me?"

Silver apologized: "So sorry, so embarrassing—my boss went too hard and hurt you. Terribly sorry. This soul crystal is compensation—please don't take offense."

As he spoke, he grasped Kleint's hand and pressed a soul crystal into his palm.

Kleint clutched the crystal, slowly regaining his wits—he remembered what had happened: the goblin had called his boss, then glared at him…

Kleint shuddered violently—the soul crystal felt like it was burning his hand. He frantically tried to refuse. Good heavens, a projection that could glance him into confusion—what level of being was that?

Could he accept money from such a being? Was he trying to die? Kleint was terrified—no wonder this goblin casually displayed a sack of salt worth its weight in gold; his backer was that powerful?

Kleint wanted to cry. Why had he opened his mouth and said such a thing? Oh heavens, please let that powerful being not remember it—he had no ill intent at all, just wanted to warn the goblin!

Silver saw Kleint's tearful, helpless expression and quickly reassured him: "Don't worry, don't worry—my boss won't hold it against you. Take it, for your recovery. If you refuse, you're insulting me."

He forcibly shoved the soul crystal back into Kleint's palm.

Soul crystals weren't just currency—they were condensed soul energy; absorbing one could heal soul wounds, perfect for Kleint, who'd just been "glared at."

If he refused, he'd later have to use his own soul crystals to heal, creating losses he'd brood over for a long time—damaging future relations.

But compensation couldn't cover what he needed most—salt—because salt was still needed as leverage in the next stage of trade; giving it now would reduce his urgency.

So being a merchant really involved many subtleties.

…

Several hours later, Silver left the relay tower, mounted a bone horse, and trotted away—ten kilometers out, he rode his bone horse into a ravine.

Inside the ravine, a crowd waited—humans, dragons, skeletons, zombies, angels, and unicorns.

Seeing Silver return, Negril asked immediately: "How'd it go?"

"Done. Relay Tower No. 4 is ours now—we've filed the report and are waiting for handover. That guy who insulted Ang—he's desperate to leave the tower and's already pushing us to come take over," Silver said excitedly.

Negril was half-skeptical: "That simple?"

Silver nodded: "Find the right angle—it's that simple. We didn't know the situation, so it seemed hard. But according to Kleint, it's easy—very few can endure a relay station; they rotate every few decades. Now, one guy just wants out—file the paperwork and it's done."

Negril couldn't help asking: "How did you think to start from Relay Tower No. 3?"

Silver replied, puzzled: "Isn't that basic? He has a need—start from the need, and he becomes dependent on you. If he had no needs, you could create them."

"Makes sense. Let's go handle the handover—see what kind of jerk was cursing Ang."

…

In the wilderness, two bone horses dragged a cart at full speed, then suddenly stopped. A wraith drifted out, checked the direction, then returned to the cart: "We'll reach Relay Tower No. 4 soon."

Inside the cart, a brazier burned, its flames forming the face of a demon—if Ang were here, he'd recognize this demon—the Lord of Terror, who once unleashed the insect plague in Heishan Principality.

"Perfect. Our Terror Wraith has just formed and needs a powerful soul to inhabit. Nothing suits better than the relay spirit on a relay tower. While the tower's being handed over, we'll seize the spirit—no sage, not even a Grand Sage, could trace who took it."

The wraith hesitated: "Are you sure? All relay spirits are linked—they're essentially souls, subjects of Harvey. If we touch one, won't Harvey notice? If he projects his will here, I'll die horribly."

The Lord of Terror said: "That's why we strike during handover. When the spirit is being transferred, it enters a brief dormancy—no one controls it then."

"Really? How come a demon like you knows more about this than I, a wraith?"

"If you're willing to trade your soul, I'll tell you," the demon said in a seductive tone.

The wraith said nothing, only chuckled darkly.

The cart resumed its journey toward Relay Tower No. 4.

In another direction, Lu Se and Xia Malan stared at each other, watching Lightning, burdened with five passengers—even the big cat was curled atop Lightning's head, hugging its horn.

Their destination was also Relay Tower No. 4. At this speed, they'd likely meet the Lord of Terror right at the tower.