Chapter 272

Compensation? This might be the most absurd thing Alice had ever heard—compensation? There's no such custom underwater; she'd only heard of the Airfolk on White Sand Isle who practiced it. The Airfolk were humans who lived in the air.

The underwater world was more about plunder, killing, and enslavement.

Alice had just approached with the resolve to die—these seaweeds were the staple food for her tribe's dozens of people; if they were stolen or eaten, all of them would starve.

This had happened many times before. Once, the seabed was blanketed with seaweed fields; now, only a few dozen plants remained. Before she was born, her tribe was said to have had thousands or even tens of thousands; now, only a handful of souls were left, and she was the last warrior.

She used to be full of determination, believing she could protect the seaweed field. But now, she could only scare off the fish that stole the crops; against the Airfolk, she had no ability to fight back.

What she didn't know was that not all Airfolk were like this.

As for compensation, the underwater world had none—it was more common to be captured and eaten. For example, the serpent-fish and water monsters that farmed giant sea beasts would lure away her tribe's lone members.

She froze, but Ang did not—he asked again: "What do you want?"

Gathering courage, Alice said: "You took our entire tribe's food. You must compensate us with something to eat."

Ang reached into his pocket and pulled out a sack of grain, handing it to Alice. "How many in your tribe?"

The dry grain sack immediately soaked in water, releasing a stream of tiny bubbles. Alice pried open a small hole and saw plump grains floating up.

Alice's eyes widened in shock. She clamped her hand over the hole and said in disbelief: "You're giving us this?"

Ang nodded.

Alice's face twisted in conflict. After a long pause, she suddenly gritted her teeth: "Follow me."

She turned and swam away. After swimming some distance, she worried Ang couldn't keep up and looked back—she saw him drifting lazily behind her, bubbles gurgling from his back, showing no sign of strain.

So Airfolk could swim? And breathe underwater? Alice assumed the bubbles behind Ang were from his breathing.

Seeing he could follow, Alice sped up. Soon, she left the seaweed field and entered a region of underwater reefs—like a massive exposed rock on the seabed, its surface riddled with holes like giant porous volcanic stone.

Alice swam into one of the holes.

Ang followed, swimming through a narrow passage, then his head burst above the water with a splash.

It was a sealed space—air had been trapped inside, preventing water from entering, like an inverted bottle pressed underwater.

Alice eagerly opened the sack and scooped up the waterlogged, plump grains, taking a big bite.

"Uh… it's not cooked…" Negril wanted to say something, but his voice faded as he realized: underwater, you couldn't cook anything. Even if he said it, this sea woman would still have to eat it raw.

Luckily, Alice had strong teeth. After chewing slowly for a while, her eyes brightened. Finally, she swallowed the whole grain—shell, germ, and all—and exclaimed excitedly: "It's real food. It tastes like energy."

It wasn't energy—it was starch. It was the taste of 'sugar.' Of course, starch had high calories, and calories meant energy, so she wasn't wrong.

"You're really giving us food?" Alice was thrilled. Food was worth far more than the seaweed she grew—it could even save lives in her tribe.

Why? Because rice had high energy.

Underwater was dark, lacking photosynthesis. Seaweed contained almost no starch—mostly water, plant fiber, and protein. Perfect for weight loss.

If the bull-woman ate seaweed every day, her fat rolls would melt away quickly.

But the problem: underwater was cold, water was dense, swimming consumed huge energy, and high-calorie sugar foods were essential. Protein and plant fiber didn't fill you up.

Sea tribes prized fat as beautiful. Alice's slender frame made her an ugly girl in her tribe. She didn't want to be thin—she just had nothing high-calorie to eat. She'd starved herself thin.

The highest-calorie things underwater were the subcutaneous fats of marine creatures. In the past, sea tribes hunted such creatures and had many fat people.

But now, with numbers dwindling, they could only grow seaweed to eat.

Of course, she didn't understand any of this—Negril deduced it all later.

In short, sea people were severely deficient in sugar, which was why they lit up at the sight of rice.

Long-term sugar deficiency caused many low-sugar ailments—many in her tribe suffered from hypoglycemia and fainted easily during exertion.

Occasional high-sugar food could ease symptoms, which was why she said it could save lives.

Ang nodded, found a relatively dry spot in the cave, and continuously transferred grain out, then asked: "How many of you?"

"Six… sixty-four." Alice stared in awe at Ang's "something-from-nothing" ability—her reverence deepened: Airfolk could conjure food out of thin air…

This misconception lasted a long time—until Alice earned enough to buy her first spatial artifact.

After compensating with enough grain, Ang returned to the seaweed field and requisitioned part of it.

Alice had no objections—and dared not object. Her tribe now had only sixty-some people; a few dozen seaweed plants were enough to feed them. More would be too hard to tend and would get eaten by small fish.

Ang planted seaweed stalks one by one, then stomped the seabed. The seaweed grew roots at once.

Once rooted, Ang erased his footprint and deactivated the Rapid Death Aura—growth had been too fast, the seaweed's nutrition couldn't keep up.

He thought for a moment, took some soil from his farm, mixed it with diluted insect-ash liquid, molded it into balls, and fired them—soon, they became clay-like stone spheres.

He dug a new pit, replaced the broken rocks with the clay spheres, and planted seaweed in them.

The seaweed roots entwined around the clay spheres, then plunged into the silt—and under the Rapid Death Aura, they grew wildly.

The original seaweed field produced stalks no longer than thirty to forty meters. But Ang's grew rapidly to over a hundred meters.

The larger the volume, the greater the effect of water currents. When it reached a hundred meters, a strong undercurrent surged—uprooting the seaweed and sweeping it away.

"You need something heavy to anchor the seaweed," Negril said.

Ang nodded. But where could he find something heavy on the seabed plain? He looked around, then fixed his gaze on the giant goddess statue.

"No, no, no—that's the Redeemer Goddess statue, not a tool for planting!" Negril pleaded.

Too late. Ang piled clay spheres at the statue's base—this time, the spheres contained not just insect ash, but also bird droppings, dragon-soil, and wood ash, ensuring balanced nutrition.

Then he strung ropes between the statue's legs, creating a climbing net. The seaweed clung to the net, its ropes tied to the statue's legs, dispersing the force of the current.

The only drawback: it looked unseemly.

"Damn it, if the Church of Light sees you defiling their goddess like this, they'll declare a holy war on you," Negril grumbled.

Ang tilted his head, confused. He couldn't understand why using the statue to weigh down seaweed was defilement—he used the Scale Ring to weigh things, and no one called that sacrilege.

He piled a mound of clay spheres several meters in diameter, planting only one seaweed stalk—because he realized: seaweed floated, weightless. As long as it resisted the current, it could grow infinitely thick and long.

A single stalk grew larger and used nutrients more efficiently. Planting more would be wasteful.

Thus, Ang accelerated one seaweed stalk—it grew longer, thicker, stretching upward toward the sea surface.

This seabed was only about five hundred meters deep. If the seaweed reached five hundred meters, it could break the surface.

As he worked, a distant large reef suddenly erupted with countless bubbles.

Ang swam over and saw Alice and her tribe hiding dozens of meters from the reef.

"What's happening?" Ang swam over to ask.

Alice's tribe jumped in fright—they were all hiding, and Ang had spotted them instantly. If he were an enemy, they had no chance to fight back.

But Alice, knowing Ang's power, wasn't alarmed. She answered directly: "The sea is breathing. Every night, it exhales air. A strong wind blows from the reef—we hide until it stops."

Every night? What was the mechanism? Thermal expansion and contraction? Amazing.

Negril was astonished by this strange physical phenomenon but didn't think much of it—until he noticed Ang staring at the bubbling reef, lost in thought.

Negril glanced again, then pondered deeply, straining his mind, finally concluding: those bubbling rocks probably couldn't be used for planting.

"What are you thinking? Can those rocks be used for planting?" Negril ventured.

Ang's bizarre methods had shaken his confidence—even if he thought it impossible, he had to ask Ang first, lest he be proven wrong.

Ang shook his head. "Here. Night. Wind."

"Oh? Wind at night?" Negril looked around at the pitch-black surroundings, puzzled. Underwater, how could you even tell night from day?

"Night. Wind." Ang repeated.

"I know—night, wind. And then?"