Chapter 262: This Fatty Believes in the Beauty God

Ang stood at the stern, casting Pollination Magic onto the forward sail; it was merely a minor spell meant for pollination, but because he cast it too rapidly, it produced a jet-like effect: whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh…

The already taut sail groaned as its masts creaked, and everyone felt a jolt beneath their feet—the airship accelerated.

Ang continued casting; Pollination Magic kept striking the sail. He had discovered while farming that when numerous wind vortices surged simultaneously in one direction, they drew more air along that same path, creating a suction-like effect.

Greater airflow generated greater thrust; the airship's masts shrieked in protest, accelerating relentlessly until, at a certain point, the entire vessel suddenly grew light.

Everyone on board had already found handholds to steady themselves—they had never experienced such rapid acceleration; Jelis even feared the masts might snap.

She had momentarily hesitated, wanting to ask him to slow down, but then remembered: Ang was the boss; the entire guild was his asset, and so was the airship—she had no grounds to complain.

The airship abruptly lightened, lifting off the water's surface; freed from water's drag, its speed surged—it became a true "flying" airship.

Negril's consciousness probed outward, observing the flow of wind elements along the airship's wings, and instantly understood: this was the ground effect.

Because the ground effect provided immense lift, a ten-meter-long airship could soar into the sky without arrays, balloons, or magic.

But the ground effect's peak strength lay only two or three meters above the water; ground-effect airships could not fly high like goblin airships—they could only glide just above the water's surface.

Yet this was already astonishing; a boat on water and a "boat" in air were not even in the same league—speed was at least seven to eight times greater, even over tenfold. The moment it left the water, the airship's speed skyrocketed.

But Ang did not stop; he pressed one hand forward, and miniature wind vortices continuously surged, dragging vast volumes of air ahead.

Jelis felt as if she were sailing in a typhoon—the wind blew so fiercely she couldn't keep her eyes open, and she shouted at Ang: "Slow down, Boss, slow down!"

The wind blew from behind to front; Ang was upwind, so Jelis's voice couldn't reach him—but he saw her mouth moving in shouts.

There were sea monsters behind them; probably afraid of being caught up.

Ang nodded, extended his other hand, and cast with both hands—double magic, double wind, double joy.

"Aaaah!!! Help!!!" Now not only Jelis screamed—everyone was shrieking.

The serpent-fishers Gulu Gulu and his tribe clung to the Sea God; serpent-fishers had suction cups on their palms, allowing them to adhere to smooth surfaces—rocks, hulls, or the skin of large marine creatures.

As the Sea God rose and fell, Gulu Gulu's head periodically surfaced, then plunged back underwater; each time it broke the surface, it could see the distant, panicked airship.

"Gulu gulu, human creation, so valuable, steal, lucky, Sea God bless, hunting home and still find prey."

In this plane, there had once been no humans; in Gulu Gulu's tribe's legends, records of humans only appeared over two hundred years ago—these humans had settled on the Shazhou, where the Sea God could not enter the shallow waters, but human airships could.

This world was vast; humans primarily operated on the water's surface, serpent-fishers lived beneath, never interfering—unless they met, in which case serpent-fishers had no objection to changing their diet.

Moreover, human creations were highly valued in the underwater world: smooth, form-fitting clothing was far more comfortable than their fish-skin suits; weapons were far sharper than their claws and fangs; even the wood used to build human airships was far harder and more uniform than underwater plants.

Thus, human creations were popular underwater; capturing an airship might even let them sell the human-exclusive "toilet" for a fortune.

"I don't understand what's wrong with these humans—do they really have special things just for defecating? Can't they just shit into the water? What a waste."

Gulu Gulu muttered, then dove again with the sea monster; when it surfaced once more, the airship was gone.

"Where did the humans go?" Gulu Gulu stood stunned for a long while, until the sunset carried away his melancholy…

Dozens of kilometers away, Ang finally halted his magic just before the mast snapped; the airship quickly slowed to normal speed, drifting forward unsteadily.

Jelis and the others, their hair wild and disheveled, stared blankly—anyone who had ridden a forty-kilometer sprint would look like this; it took ages to recover, legs still trembling even when standing.

Jelis, who had piloted airships for so long, had never imagined one could make your legs go weak.

…

After recovering, Jelis and the others took control of the airship, heading toward their destination; soon, a vast expanse of white islands appeared on the horizon.

Each island was a mound of white sand, rising above the water, varying in size, scattered like stars across this calm sea—perhaps tens of thousands in number.

Every island was barren, devoid of plants or people; occasionally, a few had sparse weeds, but most were malnourished.

Shallow channels connected the islands; small boats could navigate them, and airships could fly through—but the hundred-meter-long sea monsters they had seen earlier could not enter this region.

As the airship advanced, more unnatural structures appeared: tents, low wooden huts or shacks, or buildings made of giant fish bones.

As the airship flew, Jelis explained: "This is our base—Wanyu Shazhou. They say there are tens of thousands of sand islets, but no one's ever counted them—no one's that bored."

"Most islets are barren; everyone gathers at the richest one—Guangming Shazhou—for buying and selling."

Negril's voice rang from Ang's body: "Judging by the name, this must be the Church of Light's territory? How strong is their influence here?"

Jelis had long grown accustomed to Negril's presence and knew who he was—this was the "Second Boss" revered by the Silver Coin Guildmaster, a superior she could never reach even after ten levels—so her attitude was respectful.

"Yes yes, Boss is amazing, guessed right! That place is indeed managed by the Church of Light. How strong is their power? Put it this way: small matters, they're obeyed; big matters, no one cares."

"Oh? How so? Even where they are, someone still ignores them?" Negril was curious.

Given the Church of Light's nature, wherever they appeared, they dominated—anyone who tried to dominate would soon have priests and clerics arrive to convert them; once converted, they had to donate—effectively a religious tax.

If you refused, you were a heretic—immediately, holy knights and divine knights would come to "reason" with you; if that failed, the holy maiden, bishop, even angelic spirits would come, until you believed.

Jelis scoffed: "Everyone here is an adventurer—who cares? If pushed too far, just kill them, hide on any sand islet, or flee back to the main plane—wait until things cool down. The Church of Light doesn't have many people here; they rarely provoke mass anger."

"Still, everyone gives them some face. When disputes arise, people ask them to arbitrate; for trade and money exchanges, they use their territory—it's safer—and they charge a transaction tax."

Negril paused, stunned—this system felt familiar. The Abyss of Rest had once operated this way.

When the World Transit Station was still active, undead forces dominated the Abyss of Rest—but they rarely bothered with affairs unless it was murder, robbery, or disrupting trade routes; otherwise, they ignored everything.

But among sentient beings, petty matters—petty theft, brawls, seducing others' lovers—were most common; people didn't want undead arbiters, since their judgments were usually harsh: death, soul-searching, imprisonment in the Soul Hell.

So the Church of Light filled the void; back then, Lisa had done exactly this—wandering the World Transit Station, convincing people to worship the Light and mediating disputes.

It was like imperial envoys from different kingdoms, but meddling in trivial matters.

In this plane, the Church of Light's power clearly couldn't penetrate deeply—hence this situation.

With the pattern clarified, Negril had a new question: "Everyone here is an adventurer—what draws them here? Your airship carries so much Voidstone—do you mine it here?"

"Yes. There's Voidstone here, plus sand gold, seafood, fish skin, and some sea monsters contain special crystals—get one or two, you're rich. That's why so many adventurers come."

Negril was surprised; it had assumed Voidstone formed only in planes with exceptionally active wind elements, not a water world.

But upon reflection, it made perfect sense: even the fiercest wind couldn't match water's density; if water elements were exceptionally active in certain areas, they could spawn such unique substances.

"And you? Did you come here just to get rich?" Negril asked.

"No!" Jelis said haughtily: "We're officially employed! We're part of the Moonship Mercenary Company, under the Silver Guild—stable job, good pay, five insurances and one fund, death benefits… I say this every time I recruit."

"Recruit? How many people are in your Moonship Mercenary Company now?" Negril asked.

Jelis scratched her nose sheepishly: "Three… three."

"Three? Then he…" Negril's consciousness swept over the four people on board, finally settling on the young repairman.

The repairman sensed Negril's gaze and immediately stood straight, shouting: "Report, my lord! I'm Mark, Airship Damage Control Officer, affiliated with the Guild—not Moonship. I manage and protect Guild assets, prevent deliberate damage, and during emergencies, I throw troublesome fatties overboard."

Fatty Awei's face turned red with rage, glaring at Mark—but dared not retaliate with Ang and Negril present.

Negril was baffled; its consciousness circled between Mark, Awei, and Lily, who was quietly calming them—why the sudden conflict? These young people's minds were incomprehensible.

But since no one was fighting, Negril didn't bother—continued: "How many people does the Guild have here? When did Silver Coin send you? Are you married? Do you have children? How's your pay? Is the food good? Do you get leave? How's the year-end bonus? Any complaints? Speak up—boldly! I'm here to solve your problems."

Like a landlord visiting peasants in the fields.

The airship drifted forward; ahead appeared a large sand islet, unlike the barren ones—this one had many trees: coconut palms and other plants suited to sandy soil, even some malnourished sand jujube trees.

Ang thought they looked malnourished—because he compared them to the jujubes of the oasis desert; Fatty Awei and Lily didn't see it that way. As they passed a sand jujube tree, Awei's eyes gleamed—he murmured: "I really want to eat sand jujubes. Compared to those rotten leaves, sand jujubes are the grace of the Beauty God!"

Awei spoke with such piety that a soul flame drifted lazily toward the "Beauty God."

Who knew this fatty was a believer of the Beauty God? Ang took the soul flame and pulled out a plump sand jujube, tossing it over.

Awei fumbled to catch it, stared blankly at Ang, then at the plump jujube in his hand, then at the shriveled fruit on the shore, and hesitantly swallowed.

He quietly stepped back, whispering to Lily and Mark: "What does Boss mean? Is this a gift? Why didn't you get any?"

Lily licked her lips: "Boss probably thinks you're too embarrassing—getting excited over rotten sand jujubes—so he gave you a big one to show you what real ones look like."

"Heh, then I'll embarrass myself more often." He chuckled, opened his mouth to bite—then saw two pairs of eyes burning with fury.

To avoid being beaten to death, Awei reluctantly split the jujube into four pieces. Everyone bit in—and the airship erupted in exclamations: "Delicious!" "So good!" "The sand jujubes I ate before were *!"

At that moment, the airship suddenly "clang!"—as if struck by something. The channel was wide, and boats were few; unless intentional, collisions were unlikely.

So after arriving, Jelis hadn't paid attention—yet now, someone had rammed the side of their airship.

The attacker was a small skiff—no real impact, no damage to the airship—but the people on the skiff shouted: "Can't you steer?! With this wide channel, you still hit us?! My brother fell in and choked on water—pay up!"

Negril was stunned: "He hit you, but he wants you to pay? Is he extorting you?"

Jelis's face turned ashen, teeth clenched: "It's them again—they really think I'm easy to bully?"