Chapter 309: Accelerating Body Metalization

Lisa defined the Purifying Face Technique, possesses extraordinary creative ability, and has stolen the power of the Harvest Goddess; in essence, she is already a pseudo-god, and the hundred thousand followers of the Harvest Goddess on the Danhai Plane have long regarded her as the goddess's incarnation.

Can the Harvest Goddess make crops grow?

No, the Harvest Goddess can ensure bountiful harvests and population growth, but far from matching the shocking impact of the Rapid Death Aura; thus, if the true Harvest Goddess were to compete with Lisa, most people would believe Lisa is more like the Harvest Goddess.

Under these circumstances, what's impossible about Lisa defining a deity that has long vanished?

"Probably something like that—how long were you possessed just now?" Nagris asked.

"About eight or nine seconds," Lisa recalled.

"Next time you get possessed, summon again and study what's happening," Nagris said.

"Alright, then let's leave it at that—come on, let's get out of here," Lisa replied.

Everyone stood up, brushed off the dust, and prepared to leave, when a distant roar rang out: "I… am… still… here…"

Lisa suddenly remembered something and turned to the iron-skinned lich: "Oh dear, I almost forgot about you—sorry, sorry, what's your name? Which generation of the Duchess Rosa's descendant are you?"

The iron-skinned lich rolled its eyes in resentment, mocked a few times, then finally yielded: "Meisha Augusta Lisa, the sixty-fifth Duchess Rosa."

It had no choice—Lisa had thrown it around like a sack of rags, dislocating every joint in its body without breaking any bones; now it couldn't even crawl.

If Lisa and the others truly turned and left, it might lie here forever—ten years, a hundred years, a thousand years… or eternally, since undead do not die.

The consequence was too terrifying; even if it was stubborn, it refused to lie here forever.

Its voice was hoarse, its words broken like scraping wood, yet the content was earth-shattering, leaving Lisa dazed: "Meisha? Sixty-fifth Duchess Rosa? So you were still alive two years ago? How did you suddenly become a lich?"

"Wait a moment—your middle name Lisa, who did it come from?" Lisa immediately noticed something else.

Noble names are long and complex, but must have clear lineage—especially surnames and middle names: surnames are inherited from ancestors, middle names from predecessors, though many other obscure sources exist, making genealogy tedious.

Just consider Lisa's family—middle names can only come from clan ancestors; could it originate from herself?

Indeed: "Inherited from the fourth-generation Saintess Lisa," the lich's cloudy eyes flicked at her, perhaps finding her focus strange.

Lisa crouched down and asked: "How many direct bloodline descendants were there in the fourth generation?"

"Two."

"What was the ancestor's maxim?"

"Family are the people you spend the most time with; more time means more friction; because of friction, you'd rather avoid them—those who think that way are fools."

Lisa asked several other questions only direct clan members would know, and the lich named Meisha answered them all accurately.

"Looks like you're truly my kin, and haven't lost your memories—how fortunate," Lisa said happily, reattaching the dislocated joints and bones.

The lich Meisha frowned: "I don't know you."

"Heh," Lisa smiled, not explaining yet, turning to Ang: "Master, I can't reattach them—all the joints are dislocated."

Ang walked over and squeezed the lich's entire body—no one understood bones better than a skeleton, especially one that had survived in its early days by swapping bones.

He easily reattached them. The lich Meisha hesitantly rose, hesitantly studied Ang and Lisa, feigned indifference by stepping back two paces, then suddenly bolted.

The seal was shattered, she couldn't defeat these creatures, and she could easily escape—the only thing ahead was a horse, which certainly couldn't stop her.

"Ah da!" The thought had barely formed when the horse kicked out with lightning speed, sending her flying sideways.

What kind of horse is this? How can it kick sideways? The lich Meisha stared wide-eyed at the horse's bizarre posture—such a flying kick was impossible for a normal horse.

The fallen lich remained stunned until Nagris flew before her: "Heh, pick any one here—you can't beat any of them. Don't even think of running… Oh!"

Before he finished speaking, Meisha punched him squarely in the eye socket—he was wrong; the iron-skinned lich was the only one here she could beat.

Seeing she couldn't even defeat a horse, the lich Meisha finally grew docile, slumping helplessly in a posture of complete surrender.

Lisa smiled and introduced herself: "My name is Lisa Augusta."

The lich Meisha nodded.

Now it was Lisa's turn to freeze: "Aren't you surprised?"

The lich Meisha replied: "Though I don't know why you'd take the name of your clan ancestor, you must be sent by Robert—you know too many family secrets."

Lisa laughed bitterly: "I am your ancestor—Lisa Augusta, the Holy Light Saintess."

The lich Meisha rolled her eyes: "You're telling me you're over a thousand years old and still as plump and dewy as a soaked taro cake?"

"Heh, you could be too," Lisa smiled.

Meisha's tone grew clearly angry: "I know I'm ugly now—but this is humanity's fate. When you die, you won't even get the chance to turn ugly—you'll just rot away."

Lisa realized this descendant had already assumed she was someone else's emissary. Continuing this conversation was pointless—she needed to produce something truly shocking.

Lisa smiled and activated the Purifying Face Technique's glow, slowly brushing it over Meisha's dry, root-like hand.

The effect of the Purifying Face Technique had been repeatedly verified—in Meisha's stunned expression, the ugly, shriveled, cloudy-eyed corpse transformed into a tall, fair, dewy, supple, and healthy woman.

As her body restored, Meisha slowly realized she was half-naked, embarrassedly curled into a ball—she hadn't felt awkward when she was flat, but now she did.

Lisa found it amusing and reassured her: "No need to cover up—none of these are human; it's fine to be bare."

Still, she pulled out a dress and draped it over Meisha.

"You… you're really my ancestor, Lisa Augusta, my great-great-great-aunt?"

"You're really a lich? Really lived over a thousand years?"

"You really…" Meisha, now restored to her living appearance and normal liveliness, grabbed Lisa and bombarded her with questions.

Lisa patiently answered each one, described some of her personal belongings, then opened her own stone coffin—if her parents had buried her relics, the coffin must contain them.

This couldn't be faked—only Lisa's parents knew what was inside her coffin, and no written records existed; but if Lisa could name even a few items, it would be enough to convince Meisha.

"Alright, I've told you about me—now tell me about you. Two years ago, I heard the Duchess Rosa was still you—how did you become a lich in less than two years, and why a metal-tier lich? What happened? What accelerated your body's metalization?"