Chapter 266

On the Sand of Light, the adventurers gathered there, after friendly and cordial discussions, happily accepted the control of the Calm Sea Plane by the Bone Vegetable Mercenary Company.

Although the discussion was somewhat intense and most people suffered minor injuries, they all became sincerely convinced under Ange's healing, especially when they saw a four-winged angel and five or six titans carrying giant clubs trailing behind Ange.

After Negril produced the plane authority certificate signed by Anthony, even the most defiant individuals reluctantly accepted it.

However, a minor incident occurred during the takeover: "Hey, underdeveloped bronze dragon! Are you the one from Meishencheng?"

Negril quickly waved his hands: "No no, I'm a dragonkin, also called little dragon-man, I just look similar to bronze dragons. You say Meishencheng has one too? Maybe it's my sibling—I'll go roast a fat lamb with it when I get the chance."

After brushing it off, Negril whispered: "Remember that guy—capture him later, don't let him return to the main plane."

"Understood." Luo Ge and Lamor replied.

With Ange's current strength, controlling the Sand of Light was effortless, but there were too many trivial tasks—registration, inventory counting, logistics arrangements—and none of Ange's subordinates were proper staff for such duties.

Only Lisa and her few subordinates could handle these delicate tasks, but they were too slow; finally, Ange calculated everything himself—he just glanced at the storage areas and immediately deduced the approximate figures.

By midnight, the adventurers were hungry and exhausted; one adventurer ate something, walked to the water's edge, and pulled out an item—when a dark shadow surged from the water and bit his thigh, tearing off a large chunk of flesh.

The adventurer let out a piercing scream; the wound must have severed a major vessel, as blood gushed out violently, as if squeezed by magic, impossible to stop.

His companions rushed over, dragged him back, and upon inspecting the wound, their faces turned pale: "It's over—this leg is ruined. Tie it off."

Other adventurers grew somber; having seen enough, most knew which injuries could be healed and which couldn't—this kind of wound was impossible to treat without a bishop-level cleric.

Even if a bishop were present, they wouldn't spend money to heal such an injury; the cost would bankrupt them, and their legs weren't worth that much.

The adventurer himself knew this well, so when his companion handed him a rope, he tightened it with all his strength—his leg was beyond saving anyway.

"What hurt you?" his companion asked.

"In the water," the wounded adventurer gritted his teeth.

The wound wasn't just missing flesh—it destroyed his livelihood. No one knew if any mercenary group would take in a legless adventurer; they weren't a large guild and couldn't afford to support idle hands. The most likely outcome was that he'd have to fend for himself.

What livelihood could a cripple find? At best, like Old John, he'd return to the village, till a few barren acres, marry an old widow, and if he fathered children, he might have hope in his old age.

The saddest part was he hadn't even seen what attacked him.

A ball of holy light shot into the sky—Ange and the others heard the scream and rushed over.

Night didn't hinder Ange's vision; he fired the flare for the Zihai—they suffered greatly reduced night vision.

"There's something in the water. Many of them," Ange said, firing holy light into the water. The moment the holy light illuminated the waterway, everyone screamed.

The clear waterway was now packed with dense, writhing shadows, each lifting its head above the surface, revealing sharp teeth.

The power of these teeth had already been demonstrated by the screaming adventurer—one bite tore off a large chunk of flesh; their bite force exceeded that of some large felines.

Ange approached the wounded adventurer, examined the wound, then flicked a drop of essence fluid and a dozen Purifying Spells onto it. The injury, which required a bishop-level cleric to heal, healed rapidly before everyone's eyes.

Normally, Ange wouldn't act so proactively—he followed the principle of equivalent exchange, healing only believers.

But today, Negril had instructed him to minimize casualties, as they'd hinder the takeover.

Before anyone could react, Ange had finished healing and plunged into the waterway—like a drop of water hitting hot oil, the entire waterway boiled.

Not only the adventurers were stunned; even Negril and Lisa were baffled—what was Ange doing? Trying to kill himself?

Negril didn't believe Ange was suicidal; he just thought Ange was overly excited.

"Hahaha, is he trying to kill himself or has he lost his mind? Lost his way?" A loud laugh echoed across the scene. Looking toward the sound, a figure emerged, surrounded by a swarm of small dark shapes, slowly approaching.

Without Ange's holy light, they had to rely on traditional methods—a mage grunted and chanted a spell, launching a light spell into the air.

Under the bright illumination, everyone finally saw what the shadows were.

The figure wore a cloak, its hood lowered, revealing a handsome face, surrounded by countless monsters—each the size of a dog, with fish heads and frog bodies, sharp fangs, and ferocious, grotesque features.

The monsters' appearance startled everyone; they instinctively tried to retreat, but those behind pushed forward, leaving no room to move—people began cursing: "Stop shoving! Fall back!"

A wailing voice came from behind: "Th-there are more over here too."

"Hahaha, you're surrounded, but don't panic—so long as you don't make any sudden moves, my children won't harm you," said the handsome figure.

"Who are you?!" someone shouted.

Someone recognized him: "I remember him—he's that castrato singer, Paro, right?"

The handsome Paro scratched his nose, embarrassed: "That was just a disguise. Ignore it. Forget it—or I'll let my children chew you up."

The fish-headed frog-bodied monsters hissed in unison.

Paro waved his hand, and the monsters instantly fell silent. He spoke: "Hello, I'm Paro, a beast trainer. Pleased to meet you. This place is now surrounded. If you don't want to become my children's food, cooperate."

"What do you want?" Negril asked curiously.

"Oh, I recognize you, little dragon-man. I want to do exactly what you're doing—seizing a plane? You're so creative! I don't know how you got connected to Pope Anthony, but I'm sure you'd be happy to transfer this plane authority certificate to me," Paro smiled.

Negril scratched his head: "Just you?"

"No no—my children too. Don't you think you can defeat so many of them?" Paro spread his palms, smiling.

As he spoke, hissing sounds erupted from all directions—the Sand of Light and nearby waterways were now completely filled with black fish and fish-headed frog monsters.

"No need to defeat your children—just kill you," Lu Se rumbled, shoving a beet into his mouth, then transforming his aura into a sword.

"Oh! A high-rank sword saint? So impressive—I'm terrified!" Paro feigned fear with exaggerated tone.

As he spoke, one of his fish-faced frog-bodied monsters suddenly opened its mouth and bit one of its own kind, devouring the corpse while growing—legs, body, arms sprouting.

By the time it devoured its fourth Tonglei, it had fully transformed into a human—same handsome face as Paro, but eyes still monstrously ferocious, mouth full of sharp teeth.

"As long as you can't kill all my children, killing me is useless. Hahaha," Paro laughed.

Negril's heart lurched—he suddenly realized and shouted: "You're not a beast trainer—you're a pest controller! You're a follower of Hemertos!"

Oh my god—Negril now knew what the monsters were: insects. He understood why Ange had so excitedly plunged into the waterway—they were all insects.

After growing four months of soilless rice in the water, Ange had consumed the most insect ash fluid. Recently, he'd even begun excavating Hemertos's heart, preparing to study large-scale insect cultivation.

Ange had been struggling with insect issues—then Paro showed up with a whole army. Wasn't this like delivering coal in snow? No wonder Ange was so excited—so many insects, all burned, how much insect ash fluid could they produce?

Parro's face turned pale, his eyes glaring at Negril with fury at being exposed: "How dare you speak the name of the Insect God? Kneel!"

"Heh, even Hemertos himself wouldn't say I lack the right—I've pissed on his heart and he didn't even whimper. You believe me?" Negril grinned, ready to summon Lei Ting to urinate on Hemertos's heart if Paro dared to doubt.

As if sensing something, Lei Ting lifted its head warily, scanning the surroundings.

Paro roared: "Do you really want to die? Don't you fear death? Once my children are unleashed, I can't control who they bite. I need you alive to help me control this plane—those who don't want to die, kneel!"

Negril and the others chuckled, barely holding back laughter, but the adventurers hesitated, exchanging glances, unsure whether to kneel—the sea of monsters was terrifying, and they didn't know Ange well enough to join his conflict.

Seeing their indecision, Negril suggested: "Have your insects retreat a bit, clear some space—let those who don't want to die move over. Kneeling won't help if fighting breaks out anyway."

Paro found this reasonable and immediately ordered his insects to clear a space for the adventurers who didn't want to die.

Most adventurers didn't want to die and naturally chose neutrality, retreating to the open ground—even the adventurer whose leg Ange had just healed joined them.

Negril didn't mind—they leaving was better; staying would only get in the way.

"Alright, let's begin," Negril ordered.

The little angels, long impatient, immediately spread their wings—a beam of light struck Paro and erased him instantly.

The newly transformed human beside him slowly shifted his ferocious gaze to stunned confusion—Paro's consciousness had transferred into this body, but he couldn't comprehend it: so many insects, and these people weren't even afraid? Why did they attack so decisively?

"You—" he opened his mouth to speak one word—when a black beam struck him: Deathly Shockwave—erasing him again.

Lei Ting, poised and ready, reared up, flung its head back, and shed its fur cap, revealing its horn. A pre-charged lightning bolt shot out, striking the insect swarm and spreading into an electric net that crawled outward.

Wherever the net passed, the fish-headed frog monsters stiffened, flipped over, and died.

The fur cap that Lei Ting had flung into the air flipped midair, sprouted short, stout limbs, and landed nimbly.

Lu Se swung his two-handed sword, charging into the insect horde, his blade a blur, hacking limbs into the air.

The Zihai titans bounced and leaped—their size gave them no advantage against these insects; they could only jump, trying desperately to avoid insects landing on them.

No one noticed the fish-insects still lurking in the waterway, not joining the battle, suddenly flipping belly-up and dying without warning.

Nearby living fish-insects, seeing their dead kin, greedily bit into them—halfway through eating, they too flipped over and died, becoming food for others.

Thus, one died, then two, then four—the fish-insects in the waterway died in succession, like a spreading fungal infection.

Negril quickly noticed and gasped: "You dumped insecticide in the water?! Do you have no sense of public decency?!"

What was public decency? Ange shook off a pile of dead fish-insect corpses, burst out of the waterway, and stomped a deep footprint into the sand.

Paro's consciousness, lost somewhere, finally realized something was wrong—pest controllers relied on overwhelming numbers; even if they couldn't kill, they could exhaust their enemies. But this way, no matter how many insects he had, they wouldn't be enough to die.

He tried to flee—the fish-insects and frog monsters received the signal and began retreating like a tide.

Negril shouted: "Don't let them escape! If they get into the sea, it'll be a disaster—this plane will be devoured, including your rice!"

This was an ocean world—countless sea creatures teemed in the waters. If even one insect escaped into the sea, it could easily breed another swarm, impossible to eradicate. Ange would have to abandon farming and spend his life just killing insects.

Ange immediately pulled out an object—a heart-shaped thing the size of a watermelon, still faintly pulsing in his hand.

The moment it appeared, every insect went mad, abandoning retreat, frantically surging toward Ange.

The Death Aura couldn't instantly kill all the insects; Ange couldn't slap them fast enough—they bit his heart. The moment one bit his heart, it melted, fusing with it.