Chapter 263

Jalith had no chance to voice her grievances before Ang walked to the rail and asked, "What is 'deception'? Is it a sin?"

The three adventurers on the small skiff froze instantly—they remembered this airship had been piloted by a female adventurer with three children; how had the crew changed?

And Ang's question gave them a bad feeling—who asks if something is a sin upon first meeting? This tactic felt just like the Church of Light's.

The leader of the adventurers quickly shook his head: "We didn't deceive anyone. Don't make false accusations."

But Ang said, "You lied. You are guilty."

Three chains of light appeared out of thin air, binding them tightly. Ang didn't fully understand what 'deception' meant, but lying was definitely a sin.

The three adventurers were bound to the skiff, gulped down water until they nearly drowned, and only then did the chains vanish; they barely saved their lives and scurried away without saying another word.

Those who saw this on the river dared not speak a word—they all pretended they saw nothing.

Is that the Chain of Original Sin? Such a high-ranking clergyman hasn't appeared on this sandbar in decades.

"This…?" Only after the three adventurers vanished did Jalith realize—her trouble had been solved?

She had been agonizing over what to do; these scamming brats weren't strong, but they were like slimy toads—harmless yet irritating, clinging to you daily until you couldn't bear it.

Jalith had tried to avoid trouble last time, paying them off once—but instead, they took it as weakness and came back for a second scam so quickly.

Ang punished them with divine means; these three had no choice but to leave, for they now bore the mark of the guilty. The Church of Light would surely come to "talk" with them—until they disappeared.

Purifying a sinner earned merit.

What she found troublesome, Ang solved effortlessly; to him, it wasn't even trouble.

Jalith docked, swiftly resupplied and processed her harvest, then raised sail and left. Soon after they departed, a cleric rushed over, stomping his foot in regret: "Oh no, too late! Why did His Lordship leave so hastily? Didn't even eat a bite?"

He didn't regret the meal—he regretted losing the chance to host a great person.

"Find out who owns that airship. Why was His Lordship aboard it?" the cleric whispered to his subordinates.

His men quickly returned with news: "It's the Moonboat Adventurer Team. The captain is Jalith."

Though Jalith pretended to be a mercenary company, such a small group could only register as an adventurer team in the Mercenary Guild—with a 'little' added in between.

The cleric's mind raced: What value could a negligible little adventurer team have to draw the attention of someone who wields the Chain of Original Sin?

The cleric leaned closer and whispered: "Is this Jalith… pretty?"

His subordinate nodded eagerly: "She must be. Everyone who speaks of her looks at her strangely."

The cleric understood instantly: "We act as if we know nothing. From now on, treat Lady Jalith with respect. Give her extra care."

His subordinates all agreed.

The cleric stared at the distant speckled sandbars, murmuring thoughtfully: "These great ones really have strange tastes—rowing on the sea, swaying with the wind?"

Unaware he'd been mistaken for a powerful man keeping a mistress, Ang rode 'his mistress's' airship back to the Moonboat's secret base.

This sandbar region was vast and numerous; small airships entering the waterways were blocked by sandbars on all sides—unless you entered the channels, you'd never know anyone was here.

Far from main waterways, any hidden, well-connected spot could serve as a secret base.

Jalith had dug several huts here to store supplies and harvested bubblestone dragon's saliva, accumulating enough before sending them back to the main plane.

As for the money earned, it was naturally kept in her spatial artifact.

"We usually sleep on the ship. This place is just for storage—bubblestone dragon's saliva, fish skin, and a small teleportation array. But the array is too small, only for tiny objects. I send back bubblestone via the array once I've gathered enough; the rest—fish skin, dragon's saliva—I send through the Church's teleportation network."

Jalith enthusiastically introduced her achievements to Ang, but awkwardly, Ang wasn't listening at all—his eyes scanned the opposite sandbar.

It was a crescent-shaped sandbar, its center sunken below the waterline into a lake, the crescent embracing the lake, leaving only a narrow opening to the outside freshwater sea.

"Does the sandbar across the water have an owner?" Ang suddenly asked.

"Huh? Owner? Probably not. Whoever claims it gets it. Whoever grabs it owns it. No one cares." Jalith replied.

"Oh. That one is mine," Ang said, pointing at the crescent sandbar, seriously.

When Ang asked if the opposite sandbar had an owner, Negril already sensed something ominous—and sure enough, without even asking, Negril knew exactly what he intended to do with it.

"This is a sandbar—ground's all sand, not even grass grows. Even if you claim it, you can't plant anything." Negril said.

"Can." Ang replied.

Fine. Negril fell silent. Now, on any topic of planting, if Ang said "can," Negril no longer argued—because Ang was always right. As the God of Knowledge, Negril dared not challenge Ang on planting—his face would hurt.

A gentle breeze lifted Ang to the opposite sandbar. At the narrow opening connecting to the freshwater sea, he cast several spells—the sand rose into a wall, sealing the gap.

"You sealed the gap to do what? You're not planning to turn this lake into a giant pot and grow soilless vegetables, are you?" Negril immediately saw through Ang's plan.

Ang nodded.

"Tell me—how do you grow crops on water, letting only their roots dangle in? Are you going to build a frame over the lake?" Negril asked.

This skeleton's ambition was growing too fast—he'd just learned soilless planting was possible and now wanted to play with an entire lake? Didn't he see Jalith's planting boxes all had lids—to support stems and leaves?

Ang pulled out a fruit.

"Tree-gum explosion fruit? You stole Gorr's fruit?" Negril gasped, flying to the farm at once—only to see the World Tree grafted with countless tree-gum explosion fruits.

Ang shook his head. Worse than stealing—he'd plucked Gorr the Tree-Person's bud and grafted it onto the World Tree. He'd once tried grafting elf beans but failed; grafting explosion fruits succeeded.

Negril watched, puzzled, as Ang plucked each explosion fruit, dug a pit in the sand, filled it with water, squeezed out the tree-gum, and stirred furiously.

Soon, the gum solidified into a jelly-like gel.

Ang dug twenty more pits, filled them with the same water, but varied the amount of tree-gum—from little to much.

Once all pits had hardened into gel, Ang dug them up and threw them all into the lake.

Same volume, different weights—some sank, some floated.

Ang replicated the gel using the proportions of those that floated, then cut them into thin slabs two fingers thick, punctured holes.

He took samples of crops from the Ancestral Palace farm, threaded them through the holes, exposing their roots, then tossed them onto the lake's surface.

The gel slabs floated on the water; the roots threaded through the holes naturally dangled into the water.

"Ku Ba Da, this actually works?" Negril was stunned: "You just learned soilless planting—how are you doing this like a seasoned expert?"

Ang replied offhandedly: "Simulated array."

Negril flew out of the farm to the simulated array—and there, inside, were already rows of aquatic farmland. Ang had, without notice, simulated this countless times.

Negril conceded: "If you were this professional at anything else besides planting, it'd be wonderful."

Night fell slowly. Perhaps because Ang was present, Jalith and the others slept soundly—normally they'd assign someone to keep watch.

The next morning, they were stunned by the crops on the opposite sandbar—in just one night, the empty lake surface was now lined with floating plants.

Magic rice, vegetables, many varieties—Ang had transplanted a little of every crop from his farm, unsure which suited soilless cultivation, so he tested them all.

Seeing this, everyone woke instantly, forgot to wash their faces, and jumped into the water to swim over.

"God, divine miracle! My Lord, how did you do it? How did you do it?" Jalith swam to the crescent sandbar, heedless of her soaked clothes clinging to her body, outlining her curves, urgently asking Ang.

She'd grown soilless crops herself—she knew how hard the technique was. Even ignoring difficulty, how could crops grow this large overnight? What magic did His Lordship use?

Ang was adjusting insect-ash solution. After a night of experiments, he'd identified three major challenges of soilless planting. The first: water had no nutrients.

The cleaner the water, the fewer nutrients it contained—unsuitable for crop growth. Hence, clean water bodies rarely had aquatic weeds.

Using clean water, crops simply wouldn't grow.

But if the water was full of impurities, nutrients were present—but the water spoiled easily, causing root rot.

How to make water nutrient-rich without spoiling?

Ang cast purification spells in the lake all night—now the entire lake's water was holy water.

Water was clean—how to get nutrients? Ang thought of insect-ash solution. The right proportion of insect-ash solution would be the world's best liquid fertilizer.

When the sun rose and shone on the lake, Ang poured the insect-ash solution into the water, drove Jalith and the others far away, then stepped down on the shore—leaving a footprint. A divine miracle unfolded before Jalith and the others.

The lake's diverse crops bloomed, grew, flowered, fruited, and withered in succession.

Ang didn't stop the Rapid Death Aura—he was conducting experiments, needing to select the best crops for aquatic planting and record their growth cycles and yields under soilless conditions.

Growth cycles were easy to calculate—but how to measure yield? Didn't he have to harvest the fruits and weigh them?

No. Ang's back sprouted the Scale of Judgment—weights and volumes of crops on the plants appeared clearly before his eyes.

"Ku Ba Da, you're wasting these skills if you don't become the God of Planting," Negril grumbled.

No sooner had he spoken than a flame of Belief appeared before Ang.

"... on't tell me this is the Belief Flame of the God of Planting?" Negril asked dumbly.

Ang absorbed it and nodded: "Yes."

"I… ignited your Belief Flame of the God of Planting?" Negril murmured.

Ang nodded: "Yes."

Negril, dazed, said: "So now you have the Immortal Godhood, plus the Belief Flames of the God of Beauty and the God of Planting? An Immortal God of Planting and Beauty?"

"And the God of Knowledge," Ang added.

"Why can you do this?!" Negril went mad with envy. Ku Ba Da, why did one casual remark from me ignite his Belief Flame?

True, from Belief Flame to Godhood required many steps—igniting Divine Fire, condensing Godhood, spreading faith, stabilizing the divine position—each stage could fail. But the Belief Flame was the first step.

Ang tilted his head, uninterested. He had enough godhoods and belief flames already—adding or losing one didn't seem to change anything.

The crops on the lake mattered more. After this experiment, Ang found magic rice and sugar beets best suited for soilless cultivation.

Thus, Ang happily planted on this sandbar. Soon the lake surface was full—he dragged the gel slabs out into the outer waterways, didn't accelerate them, just let them grow freely.

Because the water in the outer channels flowed, the insect-ash solution poured in quickly diluted and washed away. Finally, Ang thought of a solution: during gel slab production, pour insect-ash solution directly into the gel.

Thus, the insect-ash solution merged with the gel slabs, slowly releasing nutrients while submerged.

More and more gel slabs appeared, filling the waterways between sandbars, expanding outward relentlessly.

If anyone flew overhead, they'd think they'd reached land—the waterways were completely covered, invisible.

Thus, extending along the waterways for four full months, planting countless acres—by now, the original magic rice and sugar beets were ready for harvest.

While Ang happily farmed, the main plane had descended into chaos.

"My Lord, my Lord, save me! Send me one hundred thousand tons of grain—I'll trade people for it!" Anthony called out to Ang through his soul, urgently.