Chapter 231

The relay soul is a powerful spirit; even without intelligence, it has instincts, and if it's been struck by holy light, it will retaliate immediately if it hasn't died. Avoid provoking such a powerful but mindless spirit—that's all it takes. Why attack it?

Again, hitting people randomly? Go back and beat it—Ange had already prepared to hang the little angel up and thrash it, when suddenly, where the undead had vanished, there was a loud "boom" as a pile of objects exploded outward.

The undead must have carried a dimensional artifact, but the artifact was instantly obliterated by the death wave, its internal space rupturing and spewing out everything stored within.

If Negril saw this, he'd surely scream again about the luck goddess's lover, because the chance of killing someone and getting a dimensional artifact is extremely, extremely low.

Any dimensional space is a powerful energy; when it explodes, the most likely outcome is that everything inside is shredded—not ejected intact.

Unless there are high-energy items within that even dimensional space can't shred, or unless the space itself is extremely unstable—either case is exceedingly rare; even Negril has seen it only three or five times.

Nothing else stood out much; Ange's attention was entirely drawn to a box—a box with a transparent crystal lid, inside which glowed a mass of light, seemingly frozen in place, utterly motionless.

Half an angel's wing was imprinted on both the crystal lid and the box's unknown-material body. Why only half?

Couldn't figure it out, and now wasn't the time to try. Ange glanced at it once, then snatched it up instantly—so fast that most of the scattered items hadn't even hit the ground yet.

He flew back to the tower at top speed and immediately realized he'd wrongly accused the little angel.

The relay soul had become grotesque, its spirit radiating fierce killing intent, its form swollen hundreds of times, covered entirely in hardened soul armor, transformed into a monster two meters in diameter.

A massive spike, forged from soul armor, shot out from the relay soul and stabbed directly before the little angel.

The little angel's enormous light wings curled backward, wrapping it entirely, blocking the giant spike.

The little zombie lunged at the relay soul, its hoe clinking repeatedly against the soul armor on its surface.

A spike erupted from the relay soul's surface, piercing the little zombie's soul armor—but was stopped by its tough flesh and then flung away.

The relay soul wasn't faring well either; black smoke rose from its body, residual holy light burning it, inflicting intense pain—pain that only made it angrier. It summoned another spike, hammering it into the little angel's light-wing shield.

The one responsible for this damage was protected within those light wings.

Finally seeing Ange return, Negril shouted at top speed: "A powerful consciousness exploded from that orb and imprinted itself onto the dormant relay soul, replacing its original awareness! Kill it quickly!"

"Can't kill it! Run! This is a relay soul—a spirit countless times stronger than a golden skeleton! One glare from it could detonate our souls! Run! Run before it fully controls the relay soul!"

Having tended the relay soul for three hundred years, Holchuk understood its power better than anyone. This spirit cannot be understood through the concept of undead. Even the strongest golden skeleton, the undead saint, has soul strength less than one-tenth of the relay soul's.

In the entire undead world, only Harvey might have a soul stronger than this relay soul. Oh, and human soul towers.

Such a spirit cannot be defeated by brute force. Run. Find someone better suited to handle it.

"Run? Why run? It's done." Negril asked, confused.

"Done?" Holchuk turned—and saw a sight that froze his soul.

A purple-gold skeleton stood before the relay soul, letting its spikes repeatedly stab into him, spikes rising and falling like those of a sea urchin.

But these spikes couldn't harm the purple-gold skeleton at all. It stood firm, fingers shooting a red light that hissed across the terror-soul imprint on the relay soul, slowly erasing the foreign mark—Remove Spot Spell.

"D…Death Lord…Ha…Lord Harvey?" Holchuk thought Harvey had arrived.

"Heh, not Harvey. This is the God of Undeath. Oh, right—you once called him a lunatic on the communication bone tablet. Remember?" Negril chuckled.

Holchuk suddenly remembered—and his eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at Negril.

He'd guarded the relay tower for three hundred years. He'd lost his temper and called someone a lunatic only once—because that person claimed to be the God of Undeath. Was he really this unlucky? The one time he insulted someone… and it turned out to be the real God of Undeath?

Holchuk felt his legs go weak, his soul suffocating. He collapsed onto the floor.

The Remove Spot Spell erased the terror-soul imprint. The relay soul slowly returned to normal. Ange's Luo Ke transformation ended, and he reverted to his original form.

Releasing soul energy, Ange soothed the relay soul. Soon, it grew familiar with him. Under the influx of powerful soul energy, the damage from the little angel's flash began to heal slowly.

After calming the relay soul, Ange turned and said: "It has no soul network."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Negril asked, startled.

"It has no master." Ange rephrased.

"Impossible?" Negril floated over, bewildered. "Isn't it said to be Harvey's subject? Its master should be Harvey."

Negril circled the relay soul, seeing nothing. The relay soul's soul was too powerful—its rank suppressed Negril's perception. He couldn't even see its soul clearly, let alone detect any imprints.

No imprint meant it was unowned. It couldn't have transmitted what just happened through a soul network to its master.

This was actually good. Otherwise, if Harvey showed up, they'd have to flee immediately. Negril had already been planning their escape.

"So the rumor that the relay soul is Harvey's subject is false? Who spread this lie? But it's good—we don't have to run." He turned to Holchuk, who was tiptoeing toward the stairs. "You're not running either."

Holchuk smiled nervously: "How could I? I was just going downstairs to brew tea for our guests."

Negril chuckled: "Do you think you can walk away unscathed after insulting the God of Undeath? Two choices: submit to us, or your soul perishes."

Holchuk dropped to his knees, shouting: "I submit! Don't kill me!"

Since seeing Ange's transformation, he'd known he couldn't leave easily—either imprisoned forever or killed. Submission was the lightest punishment—even a reward.

Submitting to the God of Undeath? How could that be punishment? Others would beg for it.

Holchuk was an unowned lich. Did he enjoy being unowned? Of course not—he was simply unwanted. Had anyone taken him in, he wouldn't have spent three hundred years guarding this tower.

He'd feared Ange would kill him. Now he learned he'd be taken in. Without hesitation, he clung to the leg.

Holchuk eagerly offered his soul oath. The oath-fire drifted toward Ange.

The little angel leapt, snatching the oath-fire, and let out an inquisitive "Ow?"

"Ow." Ange replied.

"Oh~" The little angel tossed it dismissively onto the little zombie. It sank into the zombie's body.

A soul link formed between the little zombie and Holchuk.

"This…?" Holchuk was stunned: "I…"

He wanted to say: I meant to offer my soul-fire to the God of Undeath, not to this armor-clad fool who can't even hurt the relay soul! Can I get my oath-fire back?

Obviously impossible. Negril floated beside him, patting his shoulder: "Same thing, same thing. They're all one. Offering to any of them is the same."

Holchuk wanted to cry. He'd hoped to become the God of Undeath's subordinate—and now he was the subordinate's subordinate. His rank had plummeted immeasurably. How could this be the same?

After a few words of comfort, Negril ignored him. This was the healthy undead social structure: the lowest-level half-skeleton couldn't directly link to the sovereign.

They each had their own lord; lords had their king; kings linked directly to the sovereign. This pyramid structure had its benefits. Its flaw? When the sovereign died, the entire undead empire collapsed.

Having taken over the entire relay tower, Lu Se, Xia Ma La, and the great bone finally arrived. Ange held up the box he'd taken from the undead and said to Xia Ma La: "You might be looking for this."

Xia Ma La leapt up: "Luna! Luna's aura!"

Negril also jumped: "Where did this come from?"

"Undead. Killed it. It exploded out." Ange said.

"Are you the luck goddess's lover? Just one box? Where's everything else?" Negril grumbled.

"Outside." Ange pointed beyond the tower.

In a flash, Negril dashed out. Lu Se dashed out. Xia Ma La dashed out.

Minutes later, they all rushed back: "Where? Where? Can't see anything! Did someone pick it up?"

Ange tilted his head. Gone?

His gaze swept over everyone, then he lunged, grabbing a large cat from the corner.

"Aow!" The dimensional beast tried to flee, but its legs were firmly gripped.

Ange lifted the dimensional beast by its legs and shook it vigorously. A pile of miscellaneous items tumbled out.

Soul crystals, magic crystals, gold and silver coins, bone artifacts, magical tools, books, notes, clothing, jewelry, several beads, and a brazier.

He shook it again—another heap fell: spirit beans, upgrade beans, unknown beans, purple-gold finger bones… The beans falling made the dimensional beast panic. It yowled wildly, tiny paws frantically trying to catch them.

Ange finally released it, tossing it to the ground. The dimensional beast pounced on the pile, paws moving like lightning, scooping up every last bean in a blur, then vanished.

"So it stole everything. Check what's here." Negril picked up the scattered items. Xia Ma La glanced and lost interest—none carried Luna's aura.

"So my intuition must've been tied to this box. What is this box? Why does it carry Luna's aura?" Xia Ma La asked.

Negril didn't look up: "This is Du Luo's invention—the Shattered Seal. It can seal incomplete powers. The Luna we saw before wasn't whole. This box seals another part of her."

"Luna isn't whole? How? She already has six complete wings!"

Negril finally looked up: "This requires explaining the miraculous nature of holy angels. They aren't normal beings. Even if reduced to bones, as long as bathed in holy light, they restore fully. Theoretically, with sufficient holy light, even a fingernail clipping could regenerate into a complete six-winged archangel."

Lu Se gasped: "Lord Negril, that's just like you!"

"Pfft! Is my fingernail clipping? That's dragon scale! Dragon scale! Dragon scale!" Negril flew over and smacked Lu Se's head repeatedly.

Lu Se hugged his head, pouting: Isn't it the same thing?

Negril wasn't angry Lu Se compared him to a fingernail clipping—he was angry he'd forgotten this himself. Lu Se hadn't mentioned it, and Negril hadn't recalled: he'd built his current body the same way.

But fundamentally, they were different. Angels restore by their own nature. He restored through Ange's healing.

But he couldn't hit himself for being angry. Whoever spoke too much got hit.

After beating Lu Se, his anger subsided. Negril squatted back down.

Xia Ma La sighed: "So what now? Break the seal? How? Can we smash the box?"

Negril said: "Think carefully. If she remains sealed, she won't regain her past memories—won't remember giving you wings. But she'll still remember the meaning of holy light. If restored, her first act will be purifying you, the fallen angel."

"Oh." Xia Ma La immediately dropped the box, shoved it under Ange's feet, and stepped far away.

Ange picked it up and put it back in the Tomb Palace.

Negril had studied the rest of the items. He picked up the brazier: "Everything else is ordinary—except those beads and this brazier. A brazier shouldn't be in an undead's dimensional artifact. Let's light it and see."

The brazier ignited. The flame burned for a moment, then changed. A certain aura descended upon it, forming a face.

A voice exclaimed: "Huh? You still can light the brazier? Those bastards didn't… I swear to—"

The demon had assumed the undead had lit it. But when the image fully formed, he saw Ange and the others—and froze in terror, instantly trying to flee.

A large cat darted between their legs, claws scraping the air, clearly aiming to drag the demon over.

But before the dimensional beast could swipe, Ange's Dimensional Hand had already gripped the flame, lifting the entire brazier with it.