Chapter 316

The next afternoon, in the Abyss of Rest, the World Transit Station, everyone stood ready to receive the goods sent from the XX Dimension, which of course had a name.

But it was meaningless, because everyone knew a different name for it; unless everyone shared their dimension coordinates for comparison, Anthony had pulled out the coordinates to compare.

Unfortunately, in the World Transit Station's coordinate map, there was no record of this coordinate—it might be a new dimension.

So they temporarily called it the Mary Dimension, because the person who had contacted Anthony was named Mary.

As for where the coordinates came from? They were bought from the Adventurers' Guild—those all-pervasive adventurers, you could buy anything from them.

The other side had already sent him samples, indicating they had ten thousand tons of grain for sale; if the deal went smoothly, they could supply hundreds of thousands of tons more, since they were a grain-producing dimension, with output far exceeding consumption, leaving surplus grain to sell.

Anthony had conducted several transactions with them using ordinary teleportation arrays, each delivery timely, but transactions of one or two hundred tons could use ordinary arrays; ten-thousand-ton grain deals would bankrupt you using ordinary arrays.

Anthony's ten-thousand-ton grain shipment had been sent via ordinary teleportation array, draining his entire fortune; if he did this again, he'd have to borrow money again.

That was why he had bargained with Ang—poor, out of money.

Unfortunately, his careful plan was shattered by silver coins.

Now, owing eighty percent of the freight cost, he had finally won Ang's consent to activate the World Transit Station.

But he hadn't mentioned freight costs to Ang at all; instead, he said: "My lord, plants differ across dimensions; some no longer exist in our main dimension. If we can find special specimens—like male-sterile strains or drought-resistant maternal lines—we could cross-breed them. We could request priority trading for any special plants."

The terms Anthony muttered, he himself didn't understand—they were terms he'd asked a few druids for before leaving; he thought they might sway Ang.

Who knew Ang glanced at him and shook his head.

Huh? My lord disagrees? Anthony was stunned. He'd anticipated every difficulty, but never imagined Ang would refuse—Ang was usually so easygoing; for a primary deity, Ang was almost unnervingly approachable.

Why refuse? What factors had he overlooked? Anthony automatically began thinking, trying to resolve them.

But Ang said: "This matter seems important to you. I agree."

Anthony froze, then slowly realized: "My lord, you mean… because it's important to me, you agree to activate the World Transit Station? Not because of the plants?"

Ang nodded.

Anthony stood stunned for a long moment, then, voice slightly thick, said casually: "Thank you so much, my lord."

Ang tilted his head and reached his hand back into the Abyss Palace.

Negril flew to Anthony's side, elbowed him, and said: "Rare. This is the first time he's agreed to something without an equal exchange."

Anthony gave an awkward chuckle: "Really? Making my lord break his rules—how shameful. My loyalty to my lord is as pure as holy light. No, I can't let him break his rules—I'll sell some temples to repay his kindness."

Negril sneered: "Don't you think 'holy light' sounds weird here?"

"Weird? No, holy light belongs to my lord. Don't interrupt—did you hear what my lord just said? Go open the World Transit Station."

After its first trial, the World Transit Station had never been activated again; that time it directly connected with the long-lost Purple Bones, a hundred percent success rate—this gave Negril a clear sense of the station's popularity, so he'd dared not activate it since.

During the Undying Empire, the World Transit Station drew attention from all dimensions; someone was always connected to it, and when requests piled up, you had to queue for its call.

Even after a thousand years, some teleportation arrays still faithfully sent connection requests, hoping for a reply. But over time, many arrays storing the World Transit Station's coordinates had been damaged and could no longer activate, so connection requests dwindled.

Of course, you could copy the coordinates onto a new array and send requests from there—but a new array that had never connected had to input the coordinates manually each time.

Only after a successful connection would the coordinates be recorded in the coordinate map, allowing one-touch transmission thereafter.

However, many teleportation arrays might not even have a coordinate map; theoretically, if you disable the array's identifier, the other side sees only a teleport point—if it lacks a coordinate map, no name appears.

The security level is extremely high: last time it was activated, news of the World Transit Station's opening leaked nowhere—only Purple Bones' call had startled Negril.

But my lord, times have changed. When the World Transit Station was first activated, the Abyss of Rest had just solved its food problem. Now?

Now there are hundreds of thousands of people, troops strong and… no horses, but dozens of Purple Bones Titans, a dozen Night Watchers, tens of thousands of elite undead, and all manner of fine equipment—including but not limited to angelic holy armor, archangel staves…

Huh, why is everything stolen from the Holy Church?

More importantly, Ang is now a triune deity—who dares come near? He'll crush them!

Still, for safety, everyone stood ready; even Patsey had been returned to his original divine throne, chatting idly with Lightning: "You probably don't know how many things we crushed back then—deep lords, elemental lords, nameless deities—too many to count. My spring iron fist is unbreakable, my body is indestructible…" and on and on.

Lightning asked curiously: "When your fist bounces back, have you ever hit yourself?"

Patsey muttered: "Yes… don't ask things that make me unhappy."

"No, I'm delighted! Tell us, how did it happen? Where did you get hit?" Lightning perked up instantly.

Negril, watching them murmur, couldn't help saying: "Have you noticed how long-stationed guardians turn into chatterboxes? Patsey's like that, and so is Gorr the treant."

Anthony shook his head: "Not really. Those who run around aren't any quieter—like Lightning."

"Is that chatter? That's just foul-mouthed," Negril snapped.

After filling a few lines of text, the agreed time arrived; the teleportation array's stone pillars slowly glowed. Now, the World Transit Station no longer required Ang or Negril to operate it directly.

Soon, the station reached full capacity; a burst of light flickered, and within it appeared a crowd of strange, bizarre figures—though their forms were indistinct, they were certainly not the promised ten thousand tons of grain.

At the same time, a loud, boastful voice rang out from the light: "Greedy ones! Ten thousand tons of grain to open your door? What awaits you may not be grain, but death! I, Deep Lord Glasgo, lead the Nightmare Legion, now descend… eh?"

From the moment the strange figures appeared in the light, Anthony's once-straight back slumped involuntarily, a sense of defeat settling over him.

He'd been fooled after all. With Anthony's cunning, couldn't he have spotted the signs?

He had—packaging weights varied, sack materials differed, grain grades were mixed; it looked more like a haphazard collection from multiple sources.

But Anthony was willing to accept the risk—he truly lacked grain.

Those who desire nothing are not deceived; if you crave something desperately, you're riddled with flaws. But what if you're tricked?

SMASH THEM TO BITS AAAAAAAAAA!!!

Anthony suddenly straightened, his eyes blazing like twin magic crystal bulbs, glaring ahead, his body radiating holy light.

Beside him, Ang paused, tilted his head, stepped forward, and his skull ignited with soulfire.

He felt a powerful conviction emanating from Anthony—a plea for his power.

Anthony's divine soul, fused with Ang's power, surged into Anthony's body.

Anthony stepped forward, each step sending out a ripple of light; from each ring, Ang sensed the sign of accelerated life—the weakened version of the Aura of Swift Death.

Step by step, the light on Anthony's body coalesced into a spectral form, rising slowly from him; at the same time, he raised his staff, and his voice thundered across the entire station—God says: CAN YOU GROW VEGETABLES?!