Chapter 275

The starch content of bread algae is lower than that of rice, but since it doesn't need dehulling, it's equivalent to about 120, 00 tons of rice.

Ang decided to turn them into powder.

In the Palace of Rest, the Copper Book clutched the Golden Rod, flying about, while a golden rope lay spread across the floor; Negril operated the Golden Rod, occasionally tapping it against the rope.

Soon after, Negril shouted: "No energy! No soul energy!"

A lone hand flew over and touched the Golden Rod, pouring a continuous stream of pure soul energy into it.

After repeating this several times, Negril tossed the Golden Rod aside, then spread its pages wide open in a posture of utter exhaustion: "I'm dead. Repairing this damn rope is too exhausting—I shouldn't have said I could fix it."

Luckily, Fatty wasn't around, or he'd have choked Negril to death—it didn't even use his energy. Without Ang's endless soul energy, Negril would've died trying to fix it.

Ang pulled out the Rope of Redemption, infused it with holy power, and hurled it into the sea; instantly, it transformed into an energy rope, stretching infinitely, and, following Ang's gaze, wrapped itself around the massive mass of floating bread algae.

Fortunately, this divine rope existed—otherwise, Ang had no idea how to drag this mass of seaweed back.

"The Rope of Redemption isn't meant to be used like this, aaaaah~~~" Negril sighed a few times, then gave up.

They dragged the algae back in batches, spread them randomly across a few sandbanks, and with the blazing sun and Ang's wind-blowing, dried them all in one day.

Packed tightly into barrels, the little angel came over and smashed them once with the Earthly Holy Hammer—done, now they were powder.

"I… the Earthly Holy Hammer can be used like this? You might as well open a flour mill." Negril said.

These days, dehulling and grinding rice isn't easy—it takes a peasant woman half a day just to pound enough rice for her whole family; grinding flour is even more time-consuming and laborious.

If you had a low-cost way to dehull and grind grain, just opening a flour mill could make you rich beyond measure.

But using the Earthly Holy Hammer to smash flour? Even after a hundred or two hundred years, you might not recoup its cost.

Ang restarted the teleportation array; watching the endless flow of flour arrive, Anthony exhaled deeply—he'd temporarily preserved his credibility. Without grain, all his arrangements would collapse; he wouldn't just fail to lower grain prices, his followers who'd invested money in him would revolt.

Grain kept flowing into the main plane, and Ang continued planting seaweed, directly cultivating it in shallow seas near the sandbanks—it grew to the surface without needing four or five hundred meters of depth, saving fertilizer and making harvest easier.

Though Ang had grown over a hundred thousand tons of algae in two or three days, those were all artificially forced with the Rapid Death Aura and insect ash liquid; now, he wouldn't accelerate the new growth—he let them grow slowly, expecting harvest in about four months, and continuous harvest after that.

Thus, after twelve busy days, Ang suddenly stopped, puzzled, and pulled out a ball of faith flame.

The Flame of Many Beliefs resembled fireworks, radiating light—but now, this flame had changed, becoming a single flicker, emitting a strange vibration.

Most people knew nothing of this vibration, but Negril, Lisa, the Big Cat all looked up simultaneously toward Ang; even the little wraith emerged slightly, blinking dazedly at the flame.

In the coral reefs of the Sea People, the entire reef suddenly trembled; all Sea People turned their gaze downward to the pooled water below.

Only the pooled water rippled from the shaking, bubbles rising; as the tremors intensified, a stone sphere suddenly erupted from the water, blasting a column of spray, accompanied by a piercing whistle of air.

But the surrounding water quickly rushed back in, the whistle turning into a gurgling of bubbles, bursting wildly outward.

The stone sphere, flung skyward, crashed back down, spouting another water column.

Only then did the Sea People react, screaming and fleeing; the "Breath of the Sea," absent for many days, had suddenly arrived in broad daylight.

Not long after the Sea People fled, a woman surfaced from a cluster of bubbles.

She possessed exquisite beauty, golden irises in her eyes, long golden hair, pale skin, and a tall, athletic figure—as if a marble statue had suddenly come to life.

Wrapped in holy light, she rose from the water; the holy radiance flowed over her skin, forming a pure white veil-like gown.

Barefoot, she slowly stepped out of the water, walking on empty air to the side of the Goddess of Redemption's statue.

Her golden eyes scanned the statue, then she murmured, confused: "My… rope?"

Finding no rope, she closed her eyes, then snapped them open, gazing into the water; her golden irises blazed brightly, revealing every detail of the bubbling depths below.

Still, no rope.

"Who stole my rope?" After hesitating, she gave up, summoning a one-handed hammer: "Fine, I'll use this… Who? Who ignited the divine flame?"

…

Negril, the little angel, the little zombie, Lisa, and Xiamala surrounded Ang; beyond them, Lightning Plus and its fur hat peered curiously.

Everyone stared in shock at the tiny flame in Ang's hand.

"Is this… the divine flame?" Xiamala's hands kept twitching, as if she couldn't resist reaching out—but something held her back.

"This is definitely the divine flame, but why are you here?" Negril asked irritably.

What were the odds? Ang just ignited the divine flame, and Xiamala arrived via teleportation—again, her precognition at work.

Xiamala blushed slightly: "I felt something good would happen here."

Negril, envious and jealous, said: "Your divine skill is so useful—next time something good happens to me, remember to tell me."

Xiamala sighed and hurriedly replied: "Alright, alright."

She'd benefited from Ang too much—so much she felt embarrassed; if she could use her precognition to help Ang and the others, she'd be delighted.

After chatting a bit, everyone's attention returned to Ang's hand; what they most wanted to know was why Ang had ignited the divine flame out of nowhere.

Ang was equally confused: "I don't know. I was farming, and it just caught fire."

Negril crossed its arms, thinking: "This is the Faith Flame of the God of Cultivation. You said before it was growing steadily—why did it suddenly ignite? Could it be because you kept planting grain? Impossible—grain doesn't generate faith energy. Did you feel it growing stronger while you planted the algae?"

Ang shook his head.

"Could it be because you planted algae so well that the Sea People worshiped you? No—that's impossible. There are only a few Sea People; even their most devout faith couldn't ignite a divine flame. Besides, when the faith flame grew before, those Sea People didn't even know you." Negril murmured.

After eliminating these impossible options, Negril said: "The only remaining possibility is this: you sold grain to Andong, who distributed it; the believers who received aid offered their devotion, igniting the God of Cultivation's divine flame."

"Can it work like that?" Lisa asked, puzzled. "Those famine victims probably don't even know these grains were grown by my lord—how do they offer faith?"

To offer faith, one must at least know who they worship—some divine name. Only with shared belief can faith energy link scattered believers into a complete network.

When Andong distributed the grain, he certainly didn't tell everyone it was Ang's harvest; the victims, even if they wanted to thank someone, would thank the Church of Light, and even if they wanted to worship something, they'd worship Light—how could any power possibly reach Ang?

Negril spread its pages helplessly—it didn't know either, but this was the only plausible explanation after eliminating all impossibilities.

To find out if this was the cause, it was simple: keep selling grain.

"Plant more grain. When Andong finishes distributing the first batch, observe whether the divine flame grows stronger. If it does, pause. If not, sell another batch to Andong for distribution. Test it a few times—you'll confirm whether it's because people ate your grain."

After speaking, Negril muttered to itself: "This is truly a new subject—another path to godhood?"

Ang nodded. Testing, control—this he understood. But another problem arose: "Not enough soul energy."

Though Ang possessed the Immortal Godhood, he was unquestionably the laziest Immortal God, never spreading his own faith.

Had his followers not included Lisa, such a capable Holy Maiden, and Ouk, such a fanatical believer, the Immortal Godhood's lineage might have already died out.

But no matter how capable Lisa was, or how fanatical Ouk, if the god himself didn't care, the results would be poor.

Now, the Immortal Temple in the Palace of Rest had about 40, 00 believers; the Oasis of Hope and nearby desert tribes held roughly 50, 00–60, 00 more; the rest still followed Naieli out of habit.

More people gathered near Meishencheng, but many were fallen ones—once followers of Light, now corrupted. Yet even so, most retained their original faith.

Ang had stolen their faith.

Combined, the number of believers from whom the Immortal Godhood could draw devotion was under 200, 00.

For an extreme religion, 200, 00 believers wasn't small—squeeze them, display miracles, hold mass rituals, and 200, 00 could equal a million.

But Ang was utterly lazy—he didn't even bother displaying miracles or holding rituals, let alone spreading faith.

But wasn't that the style of the Immortal Temple?

The former monarchs were equally lazy; the Immortal Temple was basically left to fend for itself—even the sweepers were skeletons; imagine how casually faith was propagated.

The Immortal Monarch didn't care about faith—he had the Soul Network; undead beings linked to him constantly offered power. Faith energy was just a bonus—presence or absence didn't matter.

But Ang's Soul Network was tiny—only a handful of beings were linked to him, countable on two hands.

With both sources yielding little power, and Ang using it frequently, his soul flame was running dry; if he followed Negril's advice and planted another batch of grain, he'd run out of soul energy.

"I told you before—collect more believers, believers aren't too many, but you never listen, just farming, farming—now it's too late!" Negril had no solution, only complaints.

Splashing sounds rose, accompanied by a sonar-like vibration.

Everyone turned; Alice's figure emerged from the waterway, mouth wide open, shouting for help toward Ang; behind her, dozens of Sea People surged out, swimming frantically toward the sandbanks.

Alice's tribe had only dozens of Sea People—was this their entire clan fleeing?

Ang's gaze passed over Alice and her people, landing behind them.

As if sensing Ang's stare, a stunningly beautiful woman slowly rose from the water, barefoot upon its surface.

Golden irises, white veil, golden hair, bare feet, holding a hammer—holy yet eerie.

Seeing her one-handed hammer, Negril shrieked: "The Hammer of Redemption? You're the Goddess of Redemption?"

Xiamala's face lit up with excitement, shouting instantly: "Luna!"

Luna's phantom emerged from her body, solemnly saying: "I see. Be careful—the Goddess of Redemption is dangerous."

Then Luna's phantom enveloped Xiamala, armorizing into the Holy Spirit Armor, manifesting one pair of true wings and two pairs of light wings.

Summoning one Holy Spirit was hard enough; Xiamala had bound an Ultimate Holy Spirit—the six-winged Archangel, the Seraphim Luna.

Xiamala exclaimed: "It's her, it's her, it's her—she's the one stealing my faith!"

She moved to charge forward.

At that moment, a beam of light struck the Goddess of Redemption.

The little angel spread her wings, palms forward, radiating excitement—finally, a fight.

The light beam faded; half the Goddess of Redemption's body vanished.

Negril froze: "So weak? Is she really the Goddess of Redemption?"

Before the words left its mouth, a black beam appeared—the little zombie, unwilling to be outdone, unleashed a Death Essence Shockwave.

The beam vanished; the Goddess of Redemption disappeared entirely.

Yet her presence didn't vanish—it surged violently; where her body had been, a luminous form slowly emerged.

Ang stared at the luminous form and said suddenly: "She's converting damage into power."

Ang's words jolted Negril—it recalled a legend: "Redemption, redemption—each time she dies, her power doubles!"