Chapter 329

Everyone knew that dwarves had the War God Chessboard, a miraculous relic built by the God of Smithing, capable of simulating various warfare scenarios—a relic designed to model battlefield conditions and predict the course of war.

Anyone who entered the relic, whether injured or killed, would instantly return unharmed upon the chess game's end; besides accumulating combat experience, the chessboard also had a replay function, allowing users to review battles, summarize gains and losses, and grow rapidly.

For any commander or officer, this was a divine artifact, enabling low-cost experience accumulation; relying on real combat to gain experience carried uncontrollable costs and consequences, and many talented commanders died on the battlefield before they could grow.

Yet no one knew that the War God Chessboard could no longer be activated.

"Since a thousand years ago, the War God Chessboard has been unresponsive. Back then, my grandfather was still on the throne—he took my father inside. By the time I grew up, it had already stopped working; I've never even seen a replay," Copper Hammer said as he led the way, his voice deep and rumbling.

Ang and Anthony followed behind him, and behind the three of them marched a squad of twelve Thunder Guards—royal bodyguards of the Dwarf King.

Ang studied them curiously; because of those dwarf drunks, he now had a basic understanding of dwarves.

Compared to Copper Hammer, these Thunder Guards were much taller, each standing at one point six meters—roughly the height of Copper Hammer after his berserk transformation.

According to Copper Hammer's description, dwarves only grew taller after bloodline awakening; clearly, these Thunder Guards had all awakened their bloodline powers.

But compared to their stature, their equipment was even more elaborate: thick, heavy armor; twin-handed axes strapped to their backs; round shields on their arms; unknown gear and small hand axes at their waists; spiked horn caps on their helmets; shoulder spikes; and faintly visible padding—all of it fully armed to the teeth.

The full set of gear likely weighed two or three hundred jin—more than the dwarves' own body weight—yet they moved with lightness and agility, unaffected at all.

Besides this equipment, a "Thunder" was embedded in their breastplates, slowly emitting light and occasionally sparking tiny bolts of electricity; on it, Ang sensed a sense of… "fertility."

On the open fields, whenever lightning struck, the air carried a certain scent; Ang couldn't smell it, but he sensed something different in the air—when it settled on farmland, crops grew stronger.

If you planted beans, their roots would anchor these particles into the soil, making future crops grow even stronger—that was the taste of "fertility."

Seeing Ang stare intently at the "Thunders," Copper Hammer said: "Lord Ang, are you interested in the Thunder Hearts? Someone, show Lord Ang."

The name of the Ascetic Ang had spread across the entire plane after his rescue efforts during the Harvest Goddess's disaster; all high-ranking figures were deeply curious about this sudden, powerful ascetic.

Unfortunately, the ascetic order operated independently of the entire Church of Light; no one could obtain more information—not even Gurianni. The Church had no record of ascetics at all.

But that made perfect sense: a shepherd of the gods needed only divine recognition—did they need to register with a shepherd's guild?

Ang's pure holy power was the best proof; even Gurianni couldn't doubt it, especially after this latest incident—hand-making bread to soothe refugees, then using the Chain of Original Sin to judge agitators—Ascetic Ang was no longer merely an ascetic, but fully qualified to be mentioned alongside Anthony, Dai Sen, and others as a contender for the next Pope.

All available data had long been laid on Copper Hammer's desk; eager to build a good relationship with this mysterious ascetic, Copper Hammer was happy to showcase the dwarves' most prized possession: the Thunder Heart.

It was a magical artifact forged by the God of Smithing, imbued with powerful thunder energy.

The lead Thunder Guard slammed his palm onto the Thunder Heart—CRACK! it blazed with brilliant light.

The activated guard stomped hard; electricity exploded from his soles, propelling him upward like a jetpack, launching him into the air as he drew his twin-handed axe.

Lightning crackled across his body, channeling thunder energy into the axe; he swung once—a bolt of lightning struck a statue by the roadside.

Then he spun his axe overhead, bringing it down with full force, drawing countless lightning bolts to converge on the blade, striking the statue like a colossal hammer of lightning, reducing it to dust.

"Applause! Applause!" Anthony clapped enthusiastically. Ang tilted his head.

Copper Hammer sprinted over and kicked the Thunder Guard—who still held his dramatic pose—in the ass, roaring: "I told you to demonstrate, not smash my statue! That statue's been here for hundreds of years and still has perfect craftsmanship! Why did you smash my statue?! Are you dissatisfied with me?!"

Dwarves had many blacksmiths and stonecarvers, so along the path, statues lined both sides—mostly of past Dwarf Kings and heroes. The one the Thunder Guard had shattered happened to be Copper Hammer's own statue.

The Thunder Guard scrambled away, clutching his head.

Negrilis, projected onto Ang, had dared not speak—but he understood: the Thunder Heart was an amplifier with thunder energy; when activated, attacks gained thunder damage and could even project it for ranged strikes.

It was quite practical. The Thunder Guards were already strong—likely capable of berserking—and with thunder enhancement, they might even challenge Lu Se.

There were twelve Thunder Guards—if each possessed Lu Se's strength, that meant twelve high-rank Sword Saints. Their power was not to be underestimated.

After beating the reckless dwarf, Copper Hammer led everyone into the War God Chessboard.

As soon as Ang stepped inside, he felt a familiar sensation.

"Feels a bit like a giant version of the illusion simulation array?" Negrilis whispered.

Indeed, it did. Ang had bought several simulation arrays from Aubonli; one sat in the Palace of Rest—he could reach in and play.

Ang first simulated in the array, then planted in reality; he used the Rapid Death Aura to accelerate growth, then imported the growth data back into the array for further simulation.

Repeating this cycle, the simulation array's data updated rapidly. The Druids of Star College accumulated data by the year; Ang did so by the day, with far greater precision.

He was now simulating the growth environments of Divine Trees, Elf Beans, and Sacred Flowers in the array, and had made a new discovery: grinding dried Divine Trees into powder and mixing a small amount into the fungal mat dramatically increased Holy Mushroom yield.

The War God Chessboard before him resembled a massive illusion simulation array: the flat ground was divided into squares by lines; based on the simulation array's structure, once activated, it would display terrain maps and similar projections.

Copper Hammer didn't realize Ang had instantly recognized the chessboard's nature—he assumed they'd never seen it before, and volunteered: "This is the War God Chessboard. Here, you can select different terrains, climates, troop compositions, and conduct war simulations—alone, in two-player combat, or in teams."

He pointed to some circular platforms at the edge: "Stand there to enter the battlefield."

After explaining, Copper Hammer sighed: "But since eleven hundred years ago, the War God Chessboard has been unresponsive. Back then, my grandfather was still on the throne—he sent our best craftsmen, even invited human alchemists and goblin engineers to study it—but none could find the cause."

"So, King Copper Hammer, you've never activated the War God Chessboard, correct?" Anthony asked.

"Yes. If you can activate it, I'd be overjoyed," Copper Hammer said.

"Alright then, we need to study it first," Anthony muttered.

Honestly, Anthony felt cheated. These dwarves weren't straightforward at all—especially Copper Hammer, who'd traded several carts of fine wine for something that couldn't even be activated.

Once activated, they'd have to watch it together—meaning they got the wine with zero effort, and possibly access to previously unseen replay records.

Kuba Da, shouldn't they be paying the dwarves?

If dwarves hired someone to repair the War God Chessboard, they paid regardless of success—food, travel, disassembly fees, all covered; if they brought assistants, they paid double.

Now it was reversed: they were paying with money and wine to fix the dwarves' broken thing, expending labor and resources—and losing badly.

You made your own deal—suck it up and try. Anthony pulled Ang aside and conferred with Negrilis and Du Luo.

"Well? Did you figure it out? Can you fix it?" Anthony asked.

Negrilis stayed silent. This was Du Luo's specialty. Before Du Luo, he'd dare speak up—since no one knew better, mistakes were safe. Now? He'd be publicly humiliated.

"This is too easy. It's just an illusion array. I could build a new one from scratch if given materials. Let's check the core." Du Luo said.

For an alchemist who built the World Transit Station and the Palace of Rest, the War God Chessboard was no challenge. At the core, he immediately understood the issue.

"The drive core is gone," Du Luo said.

"Drive core?" Anthony exclaimed, turning to Copper Hammer: "King Copper Hammer, where's the drive core?"

Copper Hammer was wrestling with the Thunder Guard who'd smashed his statue, twisting his fingers into the guard's forehead. Without looking up, he replied: "I don't know what you mean. Everything's in its place."

Fine. No help from the dwarves. They'd have to rely on themselves.

Du Luo studied the empty core slot for a moment: "Any construct, magical structure, or teleportation array requires an energy source—the drive core."

"For the World Transit Station, I set up multiple drive methods: magic crystals, soul crystals, or direct soul energy—so I installed redundant cores. If one fails, others can still power it."

"This illusion array isn't that advanced. It has a single drive core, a single energy source. Lose that, and it can't activate. I examined the divine runes and energy circuits—it's powered by belief energy: divine power, faith essence, that sort of thing."

Negrilis also observed, his interface saying: "These are Smithing Runes—the God of Smithing's runes."

"Huh? You recognize Smithing Runes? I could only tell they were some kind of divine rune, couldn't identify whose." Du Luo was surprised.

"Child's play. Any well-known deity's runes—I know them all. But you're better—you spotted the problem at a glance."

"Child's play, child's play. Far below the level of the World Transit Station. You're the real expert."

After mutual flattery, Du Luo hesitated: "Using alternative drive methods to activate it would be easy. But with divine runes? Tricky. We need someone who possesses the God of Smithing's divine power."

Anthony turned quickly: "King Copper Hammer, can you find a follower of the God of Smithing?"

Copper Hammer was still arm-wrestling his guard. He replied: "We tried. Doesn't work."

Du Luo understood immediately: "The divine power is too weak. This drive core can't handle multiple users simultaneously. Not impossible—if you had a mage corps with elemental synergy, it could work."

Operating such a large array required more than one or two people—unless you were like Ang, who could directly channel soul flame.

If power is insufficient, add numbers. But coordinating many people brings synergy issues: each divine practitioner's strength varies. To synchronize them requires long, rigorous training.

Without a trained group of divine practitioners, you must find a single follower of the God of Smithing.

"Kuba Da, no wonder dwarves can't activate it—who could possibly power such a massive array alone?" Negrilis said.

"Exactly. Honestly, an illusion array doesn't need to be this big. Make it chessboard-sized—it'd save energy and not affect simulation…"

"You mean something like this?"

"Uh… how do you have everything?" Du Luo was baffled.

"So what now? We can't ask the God of Smithing himself to activate it—he might not even be alive. Should we just rebuild it?"

"Rebuilding is possible. But we'd lose the records. What if we take that half-empty divine fragment, carve the God of Smithing's runes into it, and impersonate him?" Du Luo suggested.

The divine fragment Ang had grown had dissipated halfway, activating the Witch Palace. After energy balanced, it stopped dissolving—leaving half remaining.

"Will it work?"

"Try it."

It was an unprecedented idea—no one had ever had a blank divine fragment before. But the result was smooth: success on the first try.

Inserting the fragment, the entire War God Chessboard activated.

Copper Hammer dropped his arm-wrestling match and rushed over, stunned: "It's really working? How did you do it?"

Anthony spoke mysteriously: "The power of the Light, King Copper Hammer. This involves the secrets of our Light Deities. After we watch, we'll take the contents inside."

Copper Hammer was reluctant, but nodded in agreement.

"Come on, come on—activate the replay! The last divine war record—begin!" Copper Hammer fumbled through the ancestral method, activating the array. A flash of light filled the space—countless spectral figures appeared across the grid.

The War God, clad in divine armor, faced the God of Smithing, wielding a smithing hammer. Opposite them stood two radiant, holy figures—the Light Deities.

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