Chapter 319

"Puff! Gurianni wants to buy grain?" Anthony, pulled into the consciousness space, spat out instantly.

"That's what he said, the Shepherd of the Gods, Gurianni," Nagris said blankly, feeling utterly absurd—your Shepherd of the Gods, buying grain from a pile of undead?

"Wait a minute—is he buying grain from you, or from the World Transit Station?" Anthony suddenly realized a critical question.

Nagris asked confusedly: "Is there a difference?"

"Of course there is. To many, the World Transit Station isn't exclusively undead territory—after all, it was once managed by humans, with personnel from countless planes stationed here, like Lisa, who was originally sent by the Church of Light to stay long-term. So, could it be that Gurianni is sending a purchase request to the World Transit Station?" Anthony speculated.

"Hmm, that's possible too—but why use his own name just to ask for grain? Why specifically mention 'Shepherd of the Gods'? Isn't that clearly telling us he's the Pope?" Nagris asked, puzzled.

"If he didn't say he's Gurianni, who would even care? Would you? Would you just shut down the World Transit Station?" Anthony said.

It made sense—if the teleportation array was permanently open, announcing an unknown identity didn't matter; you could just try again next time.

But what if the World Transit Station wasn't often open? What if it never opened again? To increase the chance of being noticed, Gurianni directly gave his name and the special title "Shepherd of the Gods."

"So what do we do now?" Nagris asked. It was the God of Knowledge, not the God of Deception—this kind of scheming wasn't its specialty.

Anthony asked: "Do you have grain?"

Shook head.

"Then what can we do? Tell him there's no grain and disconnect. The Western Diocese is far more starved than my side, but Gurianni won't care—for him, ten thousand casual believers are worth less than a thousand fanatics. Famine, war, plague—these are perfect opportunities to breed fanatics. So his request for grain is most likely a probe." Anthony sighed.

Nagris's soul tightened—it knew all too well the power of fanatics. Ouk was a textbook fanatic: an ordinary human with no power, who burned his own life to borrow Ang's strength and killed the Insect God.

How did Ouk become Ang's fanatic? Because of a plague—his sister was dying, and Ang saved her. Since then, he had fervently followed Ang's beliefs.

A single angry remark Ang had made was treated as a divine decree, pursued with all his might—that's a fanatic.

If Hemeir had retained his former consciousness, he'd probably have died of regret—but after his rebirth, he'd forgotten most things and was now fed into a gluttonous insect-pig.

One fanatic was already this powerful—what would a thousand fanatics be like?

But thinking of how fanatics were bred, Nagris couldn't help frowning—was Gurianni deliberately refusing to aid the disaster, hoping to use this chance to breed even more fanatics?

While Ang speculated on Gurianni's motives, Gurianni's side was also analyzing Ang's situation after receiving the reply: "No grain."

Dai Sen respectfully analyzed: "They didn't refuse immediately upon hearing Your Majesty's name. Clearly, they know Your Majesty's reputation—and they have grain."

Dai Sen's attitude toward Gurianni had changed completely—from within and without—because he was now the leader of the Fire Thieves, while Gurianni was their founder, a being who had been reborn countless times, alive since the very day the Fire Thieves were founded seven or eight hundred years ago.

Or perhaps: a God!

Becoming a god through stolen divine fire—wasn't that the ultimate goal of the Fire Thieves?

Dai Sen had assumed no one had succeeded in centuries—turns out someone had: the first Fire Thief had succeeded.

If Anthony knew someone else had been reborn repeatedly like him, he'd probably curse: "You plagiarized!"

So why had no one succeeded since?

"I misled you," Gurianni smiled. "Look—you've succeeded now. You, too, are a god."

So that's how it was—the first ones on the wagon locked the doors, keeping others out. Now Gurianni had cracked the door open, and Dai Sen had instantly climbed aboard.

Becoming a god isn't hard—at least not for the Church of Light. A vast base of believers is the source of all power; with power, you can generate divine fire, and ignite the god flame.

It was a simple matter—but the first person twisted it, leading everyone down the wrong path. Dai Sen should've been angry—but now that he was the second person to board the crystal wagon, he wasn't angry anymore. Instead, he felt admiration for Gurianni.

Once too many people cram onto the wagon, the seats lose their value.

After finishing his analysis, Dai Sen respectfully withdrew.

Gurianni's expression grew heavier. Through the power of the demonic god, he had been reborn repeatedly for centuries. His understanding of the Abyss of Rest and the World Transit Station was far deeper than modern people's shallow views—like Leonarde of the Holy Blade Army, who still thought it was a backward abyss plane.

Backward, my ass—that's the gateway to the Undead Empire.

Now that the World Transit Station has reopened, what does it mean? Is the Undead Empire returning?

By deliberately using his own name to request grain, the response confirmed several things: they knew the name Gurianni; they weren't isolated—they were connected to other planes, even the main plane.

They had grain—plenty of it. Otherwise, upon hearing his request, they wouldn't have reported it—they'd have refused outright. Of course, it's possible they reported it only because of his name, but that probability was low.

Third—why would the Undead Empire have so much grain? Does that mean the current occupants of the World Transit Station aren't the Undead Empire?

A flicker of eagerness flashed in Gurianni's eyes—the World Transit Station—a golden road. To control it was to control the vital points of countless planes.

He stood up and hurried toward the secret chamber to report to some powerful entity.

…

Ang had cut down most of the World Trees, because as they grew, they blocked more and more space—one World Tree could shelter a settlement of tens of thousands.

The Abyss of Rest now had only a few hundred thousand people—ten trees were enough.

If the extra trees weren't cut down, they'd compete for life energy and space, causing all of them to grow stunted.

Cut the extras, clear the space, and the remaining ten trees could keep growing, growing, eventually reaching the height of the Tree of Life, sheltering the entire forest.

"Oh no, you really cut them all down? So wasteful!" Anna, Phyllin, Lan, and others stared at the fallen colossal trees, their faces twisted in agony.

The barren Abyss of Rest had gained patches of green thanks to these World Trees—crops now grew, and even the kept animals survived.

Today's Abyss of Rest, despite the piercing Wind of Rest, held more life than it had a thousand years ago, before the Wind of Rest existed.

Those who grew up here felt this change most deeply.

"Not wasteful," a Tree Keeper, swaying in a grass skirt, walked over.

Someone—damn whoever it was—had tied a grass skirt around the Tree Keeper's waist. The Tree Keeper had a short torso and long legs, so it waddled with a swaying gait, looking seductive from behind.

Phyllin, who had guessed the Tree Keeper's identity, sighed and walked over, quietly pulling off the skirt.

"No need to mourn. The fall of one tree nourishes the entire earth. The life energy it releases will give birth to more resilient life—this is its finest destiny." As he spoke, the Tree Keeper waved his hand.

The entire sky turned green. Green lights rained down, spreading in concentric rings of vitality over the fallen trunks.

Anna gasped: "This… this is life energy? Why can I see life energy?"

Lan suddenly pointed far away: "Are they dragging the trees away? Does that mean they're dragging away the life energy?"

The Tree Keeper turned to look—just a short distance away, a stunted dragon, accompanied by a dozen titans, was sawing through the fallen trees, rapidly cutting them apart and dragging them off, leaving not even bark or leaves.

World Trees—every single pollen grain was valuable. How could they just leave them on the ground?

Sensing the Tree Keeper's gaze, the stunted dragon turned its head and waved.

Phyllin noticed the Tree Keeper's hand suddenly swelled into a hard fist—but then, as if remembering something, it slowly shrank back to normal. It turned away and waddled off.

Phyllin watched the Tree Keeper vanish, murmuring: "Aren't you going to beat it? It tricked away my wife—hit it!"

Too bad—the Tree Keeper didn't look back. It walked to a World Tree, slammed into the trunk, and melted inside.

Not long after, the Tree Keeper emerged from the World Tree on the sandbank of the Danhai plane. It gazed down at the distant horizon, then slowly said: "Looks like… it kept its promise. It spread the seeds everywhere. Fine—I forgive it."

Murmuring, the Tree Keeper retreated back into the tree. Soon after, it emerged again from the World Tree in Meishencheng.

Tree Man Gour sensed something and turned around in delight.

The Tree Keeper waved—sending a branch flying across the distance, latching onto Gour. Then, clinging to the branch, it waddled through the air to Gour's body.

On Gour's body, the Tree Keeper searched, found several bud points, then touched the branch to them. Soon, a seed the size of a watermelon sprouted.

Repeating the process, it produced ten seeds, then curled them up, leaped back onto the World Tree, and retreated inside.

Throughout, Gour and the Tree Keeper said nothing—but Gour trembled with excitement. It knew exactly what the Tree Keeper intended, whispering: "I… I have little Tree People?"

Its whispered words, to ordinary people, were like thunderclaps. Within hours, everyone in Meishencheng knew: Tree Man Gour had given birth.

Ang held the ten War Tree seeds the Tree Keeper had given him, stunned. War Tree seeds were extremely rare—the entire Elven race probably didn't have ten.

When he came to his senses, the Tree Keeper had already waddled away.

"This Tree of Life is so weird," Nagris grumbled. "What do we do with them? Where do we plant them? Wait—can't plant them randomly. If they grow, will they obey the Tree of Life… or us?"

Even if relations were good, Nagris couldn't let key positions fall into others' hands—like the World Transit Station. When they grew, would these Tree People obey the Tree of Life—or them?

"I can't plant them," Ang shook his head.

"What? You can't plant them?" Whether to plant them was one thing; whether you could plant them was another. Ang's skill level couldn't even plant these War Tree seeds? How was that possible? He'd grown World Trees himself.

Ang said nothing. He arranged the War Tree seeds in a circle, then placed the sapling in the center.

The sapling, seeing the seeds, became excited—it hadn't seen anything so familiar and rich in life energy in ages. It waved its leaves enthusiastically: Grow—grow—grow—

The War Tree seeds cracked open. Pop-pop-pop—tender sprouts burst forth one after another, growing rapidly.

Grow—grow—

The sprouts writhed, growing fast, then involuntarily began waving their true leaves.

The sapling hadn't received such strong feedback in ages. Normally, even when it strained with all its might, many things refused to grow.

Grow—grow—grow—grow—

The War Tree sprouts, now nearly as tall as the sapling, began waving their own leaves in enthusiastic response: Grow—grow—grow—grow—

Eleven green plants twisted and wriggled together—scene was lively.

Nagris suddenly understood: "So you meant you can't plant them like this? These War Tree People need the Tree of Life to trigger growth—does that mean they'll obey the sapling from now on? If so, we can plant them."

Where to plant them?

In the Sacred Heaven, four deep pits were dug at the corners of the temple altar. Four War Trees were planted inside. Ang stamped down the Death Speed Aura—the War Trees grew wildly.

The fertile soil of the Sacred Heaven was perfect for War Trees—no fertilizer needed. But Ang still fertilized them, because under the Death Speed Aura, the War Trees soon waved their leaves, sending out messages: Hungry—Hungry—Hungry—

In less than ten days, the War Trees grew taller than the temple. Once they reached that height, they began growing outward—thickening, hardening.

Nagris grumbled: "You have no energy for planting grain, but you've got plenty for planting these weird things? Why plant them here? So wasteful! Do you really think someone will come here? The gods are all dead…"

Nagris, mouth still open, hadn't finished speaking when the teleportation gate on the temple roof activated. A graceful figure stepped out—and both she and Ang and Nagris froze in surprise.