Chapter 325: Can You Conjure Hundreds of Thousands of Sacks of Grain?

The three of them stopped doing anything else, squatted on the ground in a circle, watching the divine fragment slowly dissipate.

"Why is this happening? Can a divine fragment without definition not exist independently?" Nagelis asked curiously.

This divine fragment was grown from the soil, not ignited by the fire of belief—it was undefined, blank.

The faith energy of the Harvest Goddess comes from humanity's longing for harvest; the faith energy of the God of Undeath stems from people's pursuit of immortality; the power of the Light deities arises from humanity's yearning for light.

This divine fragment has no source of faith—could that be why it can't hold together?

"How would I know? I'm not a god. By the way, you're a god, aren't you? Even if you only have one believer." Du Luo Ken casually said, leaving Nagelis rolling his eyes.

As it continued to dissipate, the divine fragment shrank by half—then, one of the four satellite palaces in the distance, the last unlit Witch's Palace, suddenly flared to life.

"Huh, the Rest Palace has stopped spinning? So that's how it is—I get it now," Du Luo Ken finally noticed the state of the Rest Palace and exclaimed in realization.

Nagelis hurriedly asked: "How exactly? Tell me quick!"

It was dying of curiosity: the Lock Palace had activated for no reason, Du Luo Ken's palace had activated for no reason, and now the Witch's Palace had activated for no reason—none of them seemed connected.

The Lock Palace activated because of the Death-Still Fluid; now the Witch's Palace activated because of the dissipating energy of the divine fragment—does that mean injecting the corresponding energy can activate these palaces? Then what energy does the main palace require?

Du Luo Ken explained: "When I designed the Rest Palace, I used the method of multi-layered dimensional stacking. Don't be fooled by their appearance on the same plane—each palace belongs to a separate dimension. Only when spatial energy remains balanced can the Rest Palace function normally."

He thought for a moment, then clapped his hands: "To prevent imbalance from losing just one type of energy—say, if the King was away—I designed multiple safeguards. Seventeen base energies; as long as seven remain balanced, there's no problem. It's impossible to lose eleven out of seventeen base energies at once."

"Moreover, material exchange within the space must follow the principle of equivalent exchange: to take something out, you must put in an equal amount of matter or energy."

As Du Luo Ken spoke, Ang tilted his head, and Nagelis patted his own waist muscles: "So that's why—no wonder Ang always injects soul energy every time he transfers crops out."

"Soul energy? Transferring crops?" Du Luo Ken asked, confused.

Nagelis explained. Du Luo Ken frowned: "You mean the dimensional space teleportation bracelet? What's the ratio? That doesn't make sense. Probably a dimensional balance issue. Normally, transferring matter doesn't require this much energy. So much soul energy just to move a few dozen jin of crops? You're rich, aren't you? Why don't you use the World Transit Station?"

Of course they do—bulk crop transfers in the farm now use the World Transit Station; bringing in fertilizer works the same way.

"So you mean the ratio through the bracelet should be about the same as the World Transit Station? We've been wasting money all this time?" Nagelis groaned.

Du Luo Ken nodded, then ignored the little fat dragon now crouching on the ground drawing circles in despair, and continued: "I set up so many safeguards—why did the Rest Palace still stop spinning? And why did it just stop instead of collapsing?"

After thinking for a while, Du Luo Ken understood: "The King left, Lock and the Witch left, then the graveyard fractured—this place instantly lost most of its mass, so it stopped. But why did it just stop instead of collapsing? So much was missing—multi-layered dimensions should have shattered. What did you do back then?"

Du Luo Ken couldn't figure it out. Like a bridge that needed seven piers to stay standing—he built seventeen, thought it was foolproof, then suddenly eleven collapsed, yet the bridge still stood, only its entrances sealed.

What puzzled him more than why eleven piers collapsed was how the bridge stayed standing with fewer than seven left.

"You're asking me? I was sealed in a book—what could I do?" Nagelis said.

Du Luo Ken turned to Ang. Ang tilted his head: "Grew vegetables."

"Oh right—you used to be a vegetable-growing skeleton. Almost forgot. Maybe you slept too long—your memory's a bit rusty." Du Luo Ken scratched his head, troubled: "But wait—you're a skeleton. How many vegetables could you possibly grow? You didn't grow them for a thousand years, did you? Vegetables don't keep well—they'd have rotted long ago."

At this, Du Luo Ken noticed Nagelis's strange expression, then looked at Ang again: "You really grew vegetables for a thousand years?"

Ang nodded.

Du Luo Ken sucked in a sharp breath: "Holy hell—skeletons are this stupid… dedicated? Where are the vegetables now?"

Upon learning Ang stored his harvest in underground cellars, Du Luo Ken leapt to his feet and began pacing back and forth, hands behind his back.

After walking over a dozen circles, he murmured: "There's only one reasonable explanation: the farm's barrier is an incremental component of the Rest Palace's balance point. You kept growing things, and the new matter you stored outside the barrier in cellars—over a thousand years, that incremental mass perfectly balanced the space's stability."

He'd barely finished speaking when he started tearing his hair: "Damn it—could it really be this coincidental? Just because you kept growing vegetables, you maintained the balance of this entire Rest Palace? Just by this tiny margin?"

Since there was no way to verify it, they mumbled among themselves as they arrived at the Witch's Palace.

"The Witch's Palace is as plain as ever," Du Luo Ken sighed.

Nagelis said nothing—most of its memories of the Witch were lost; it couldn't recall what she was like. It also raised a question: why had the God of Undeath erased these memories?

It was too plain. The Witch's Palace could be seen in one glance—empty, no table even. The Bronze Book Tower at least had a table.

Two banshees drifted to the center of the palace and began softly chanting.

The sound instantly became ethereal—some acoustic design within the palace not only amplified the ethereality of the voice but also made the soul energy carried by the sound incredibly dense.

That is, the conjuration power surged. Though everyone stood in different positions, all could feel as if the banshees stood right before them.

After finishing the Song of the Departed, the banshees suddenly shifted tone: "Undying spirits and indestructible souls, cross the river of rebirth..."

Nagelis gasped: "Huh? The Song of Undeath? They can sing the Song of Undeath?"

Wailing banshees could not sing the Song of Undeath—it is a song sung with the soul—but with the space's enhancement, they barely managed to sing it, triggering a faint soul resonance; this is why the Song of Undeath enhances the soul. Without soul resonance, it is merely a poem anyone can hum.

A humming came from the side. Turning, they saw Du Luo Ken had somehow produced a reclining chair and was lying on it, swaying his head, humming along.

At that moment, Ang suddenly tilted his head, as if listening to something.

Nagelis was used to it—whenever Ang did this, it meant a believer was calling him. Only a handful could call him directly: Lisa, Silver Coin, Purple Bone, Ouk, Anthony, etc. fewer than one hand's worth.

Ouk usually just reported, rarely disturbed Ang; Purple Bone rarely needed him—she and her clan had dug up a pile of Thunder Spears from the Redemption Goddess's place; few enemies could withstand their volleys.

No need to ask. As Ang turned his head, Nagelis asked irritably: "It's Anthony again, isn't it? Begging for help?"

Anthony had been the most frequent caller lately—always "My lord, save me!" Only Ang was this lenient; any other god would've smote him with divine punishment long ago.

Ang nodded: "He says there's faith—come harvest it."

"Not asking for help? He wants you to harvest faith? He's that generous?"

When Ang arrived outside the Black Mountain Duchy on the main plane, he saw only a vast refugee camp stretching to the horizon, and crowds wildly chanting, "May Light protect us!"

Anthony hurried over, frazzled: "My lord, my lord—there are agitators in the crowd. Too many—I can't clear them all at once. Many have been stirred up. I need you to walk through the air, dropping grain as you go, calming everyone. When you spot agitators, immediately condemn them."

Nagelis, projected onto Ang, couldn't help cursing: "Damn it—I knew you weren't that generous. You're still begging Ang for help."

Anthony flushed: "Also, harvest some faith while you're at it. There are over four hundred thousand people here. Agitators keep sneaking around—I prepared everything, but they still found a loophole. Only you can calm them. Distributing grain alone won't work anymore. You must publicly condemn the agitators, scare the rest into submission—only your Original Sin Shackles can do that."

Anthony could use the Original Sin Shackles too, but each use left him exhausted. With so many agitators, he feared he couldn't handle them all.

Moreover, the title "Ascetic An" had spread among believers and now carried more weight than Anthony's own title as Acting Pope.

Sure, Acting Pope sounded impressive—but when the crowd surged, people trusted the kind old priest from their neighborhood more. The Ascetic's identity was never lofty.

"Move aside, let me see." A voice—strange yet vaguely familiar to Anthony—echoed from Ang's body.

Du Luo Ken projected onto Ang. Don't think only Nagelis could project—everyone was inside the Rest Palace, everyone had a soul-level link with Ang. If Ang agreed, Du Luo Ken could project too.

"Huh—what's going on? Such intense Light divine power—these people are Light believers? You're harvesting Light believers' faith? Did I hear that right?"

Anthony suddenly remembered something, incredulous: "Lord Du Luo Ken?"

"You know me?" Du Luo Ken asked, surprised. His awareness swept over Anthony: "Huh? Such strong Holy Light power? You're at least a Grand Archbishop? What's going on? Did you betray the Light—or did you surrender to it?"

"Hehe, Lord Du Luo Ken, I'm Pierre," Anthony chuckled.

"Wait—you're Pierre? The undead Pierre who built the Rebirth Altar? You turned into a Light dog?" Du Luo Ken asked.

Anthony was only casually familiar with Nagelis, but he knew Du Luo Ken intimately—the foundation of the Rebirth Altar was taught to him by Du Luo Ken.

"No no no—I'm devoted to Undeath. I live as Lord Ang's servant, I die as Lord Ang's soul. When did you wake up? We'll chat later—please help me calm this crowd first," Anthony pleaded urgently.

With faith energy to harvest, Ang was delighted. He was desperately short of soul flames. With unlimited soul flames, he could instantly quell the famine on the main plane—he'd once grown 100, 00 tons of seaweed rice in two or three days.

He adjusted the illusionary appearance of his straw hat into his previous Ascetic An guise, then stepped forward, walking through the air above the crowd.

"Ascetic An—it's Lord An! It's Lord An!" Some who had seen Ang or heard of "Ascetic An" shouted excitedly.

Ang dropped a sack of grain.

The crowd instantly went mad—some screamed Ang's name, others lunged for the grain sacks, fighting over them.

Chaos erupted immediately—people shoved, pushed, trampled. The weak, thin, and starving were crushed underfoot.

Anthony, watching from afar, felt a chill—mistake, mistake! If people died from a stampede over grain, not only would little faith be harvested, but Ang's prestige would suffer.

Too many people, too chaotic—he couldn't think of a solution. Then, everyone who shoved, fought, or fell suddenly felt a gust of wind, lifting them forcibly upward.

Pollination Technique. Ang treated the shoving crowd like flowers, using Level Two Pollination Technique to sweep each person—equivalent to being lifted by the armpits, instantly raised off the ground.

Those who fell were pulled up; those who bent over were straightened. The chaotic scene instantly became like a neatly arranged field—every person stood straight and tall.

Those touched were stunned—what just happened?

Someone tried bending again to grab a sack—then was lifted again. Now everyone understood: no grabbing.

No one dared to fight anymore. Everyone knelt down, bowing devoutly: "Lord An, Your Majesty! Lord An, grant us food!"

"Lord An, Your Majesty! Lord An, grant us food!"

Endless soul flames surged toward Ang, flooding into his body.

Ang summoned another sack of grain—but didn't drop it. He tilted his head, thinking.

At that moment, an excited voice rang out: "Lord An, why are you putting on a show? One or two sacks of grain—what good is that? We're hundreds of thousands! One sack per person still won't save everyone! Can you conjure hundreds of thousands of sacks of grain?"

Anthony's eyes flashed coldly. He muttered: "That's him—the agitator. Others will follow him, then rally together. Lord, condemn him. Judge him."

Before Anthony finished speaking, several voices echoed: "Yes! Lord An, can you conjure hundreds of thousands of sacks of grain?!"

"Lord An, can you conjure hundreds of thousands of sacks of grain?"

"Lord An, do it! Do it!"

Under their incitement, everyone's mood turned sour—yes, even if Lord An was powerful, could he conjure hundreds of thousands of sacks of grain out of thin air?