Chapter 341: The Undying Empire

Ang tilted his head, but before he could speak, Negril cried out urgently: "Don't you dare say that—he didn't take it; the Soul Fragment chose Ang as its heir."

Kuba Da, seizing the Undying King's Soul Fragment? Who dares bear such a grave crime?

This is deadly—don't forget, besides Feti right here, the Abyss still holds Harvey and the Grand Sage, plus tens of millions of undead creatures.

The Undying Empire was once too vast; no one knows if any souls still loyal to His Majesty remain—did the Witch truly perish, or did she hide?

According to speculation, the Witch likely possessed a Soul Fragment, which is why His Majesty warned her to beware the Soul Storm.

This is also why Negril has always refused to recall Harvey.

Theoretically, once the World Transit Station is activated, Harvey could be teleported back.

Too many souls loyal to the Undying King returning would inevitably create one problem—who owns the Palace of Rest?

The Palace of Rest is in Ang's hands, and no one can take it from him—but what if Harvey insists?

Until these issues are resolved, it's better to stay away for now.

"Impossible! Why would the Undying Soul Fragment choose a human as its heir? He must have used some despicable trick—ah—" As Feti spoke, he suddenly arched his back and let out a soul-shattering shriek.

With his shriek, the entire plane erupted in wave-like echoes; corpses rose from all directions, swelling into a tide of undead that rippled outward, slowly advancing toward the teleportation array.

The most terrifying thing about undead is not the invincible Lord of Mourning, nor their immortal souls—but the endless, fearless tide of undead corpses.

They charge at you without fear, letting blades, spears, and swords cleave through their bodies without retreating; you can chop them to pieces, but if you're killed even once, you'll soon become part of them.

Elite Golden Skeletons, stepping in the aura of a monarch's arrival, summoned every corpse on the ground, surging like a tide—when they moved, they were a calamity—the Plague of the Dead.

To regard undead as a calamity reveals how powerless people feel facing them, just as they do against natural disasters.

Moreover, as Feti shrieked, spatial rifts tore open before him—but strangely, nothing emerged from them.

Feti was baffled: "Where are my Golden Skeletons?"

Could it be that the Bone Skeletons called them all away? Negril muttered to himself.

Watching the undead tide surge toward them, Ang suddenly arched his back: "Aaaah—!" Flames of soulfire erupted from his body.

The corpses slowly advancing toward them hesitated, slowed, then came to a complete stop.

Feti's soul surged with intense confusion: "You… suppressed me?"

"Normal, normal—Ang is the Undying God; these corpses aren't yours, so they naturally obey the Undying God first. Don't rush—what did you just say? You said 'the Undying Soul Fragment wouldn't choose a human'? You think he's human?"

Negril quickly stepped between Feti and Ang, speaking urgently.

"Not human?" Feti asked, puzzled.

Negril didn't know what to say—Feti was the Lord of Mourning; though he himself hadn't remembered it, the Lord of Mourning possessed soul power unmatched, even more terrifying than a god—so naturally, his mental strength should be supreme. Yet now he couldn't see through Ang's illusion?

Last time in the Abyss, they hadn't met Harvey, so they couldn't be certain—but now they could confirm: Ang's insane mental strength exceeds even that of the Lord of Mourning.

Whether Ang was always this strong or became so after inheriting the Soul Fragment, it was utterly unbelievable.

"What if he isn't?" Negril asked.

Feti blinked: "Then nothing."

Negril muttered: "Why won't he fall for it? Annoying—Ang, take off your hat and show him."

Ang removed his hat, revealing his true skeletal form.

"Golden Skeleton?! Impossible! Straw Hat?! Even more impossible! How could a Golden Skeleton possess such mental strength?!" Feti exclaimed in disbelief.

Negril spread his hands: "Maybe that's why the Undying Soul Fragment chose him."

Feti stared blankly at Ang for a long moment, then shifted his gaze to Du Luo, then back to Negril: "So… the Soul Fragment really chose him? Not that he stole it?"

Du Luo had to speak: "Feti, what are you thinking? Do you think the Undying Soul Fragment is something you can just snatch?"

That made sense—the Undying Soul Fragment wasn't something you could grab at will. That would be insulting to the King.

"So he really inherited it? Why did the Soul Fragment choose him?" Feti straightened his posture, his aggression fading, his tone less hostile.

"It's a long story…" Negril recounted everything that had happened over the years, leaving Feti and Du Luo stunned—some of these events, Du Luo had never heard before.

After hearing it all, Feti looked at Ang and said with complex emotion: "The vegetable-growing skeleton? What a lucky fellow."

Negril shook his head: "It's not luck. Sure, he's had good fortune—but could you, for a thousand years straight, keep planting? Thanks to the farm's boundary increasing matter, the Palace of Rest didn't collapse—it was he who saved it."

Whether it was luck or salvation didn't matter—what mattered was proving Ang hadn't stolen the Soul Fragment, but had earned its recognition.

Realizing this, Feti muttered something no one could hear, then knelt on one knee: "Undying God, may your soul endure, eternal and unextinguished."

It was a ceremonial bow, expressing reverence for the Undying Soul Fragment—he rose again after completing it.

Negril was disappointed—it wasn't what he'd hoped for—but it made sense. Feti was the Lord of Mourning, the King's most loyal warrior—how could he surrender his soul over a transfer of the Soul Fragment?

Du Luo had no choice—he'd just been reborn; without surrendering his soul, he'd remain in eternal slumber.

Still, this was better—Feti's hostility was gone, and Negril could now ask him more.

"Feti, do you know His Majesty has vanished?" Negril probed, testing how much of his memory had returned.

"I know," Feti nodded. "I watched the King enter the Void Gate. Since you've inherited the Undying Soul Fragment, the King must not have returned."

"Do you know why the King entered the Void Gate? What was the Soul Storm? Before that, he severed all soul connections—even yours." Negril asked.

"Of course—he went to kill. It was too dangerous. The King said not to take me—he told me and Locke to kill the other gods first, to prevent a chain reaction from Faith Storms." Feti said.

"Entered the Void Gate… to kill? Why?" Negril asked.

"From what the King said, some creatures hid deep in the Void, using special methods to accumulate energy and trigger Soul Storms—or Faith Storms, same thing—a force operating at the level of belief, capable of erasing gods and kings."

Negril and Du Luo were stunned—erasing gods and kings? Good heavens, how terrifying was this Soul Storm? And worse—it was triggered by mere "creatures"?

What kind of creatures could unleash a storm capable of erasing kings and gods?

"I don't know. They call themselves the Evil Gods."

At this, everyone simultaneously recalled a fluffy, furry cat—and all shook their heads. That little cat? Where was the aura of an Evil God?

From Feti's account, Negril understood: somewhere in the Void, a group of Evil Gods were attempting to unleash a Soul Storm—or Faith Storm—a belief-level force capable of directly striking gods and kings.

This storm seemed to be interdimensional—anyone within range would be affected, striking across planes.

To strike first, the King tried to locate the Evil Gods' position and crossed the Void ahead, preparing to eliminate them.

Because conditions in the Void were too complex, he didn't bring his loyal followers—he sent Locke and Feti ahead to kill the other gods first, to prevent chain reactions during the Faith Storm.

"What logic is this? Afraid they'd die, so you kill them first?" Negril was baffled.

Du Luo shook his head: "No—it's not like that. Faith collapse causes severe chain reactions, affecting countless devout followers. Large-scale faith collapse produces unpredictable consequences."

Feti nodded: "The King said the same—each shattered Soul Fragment becomes a new storm source, affecting many believers. For safety, better to kill them first."

Negril's heart surged—he could clearly feel the Undying King's might from Feti's casual words.

Merely to ensure safety, to preserve devout followers, he could kill every single god.

In hindsight, the King's decision was correct—the disappearance of the gods caused no visible impact; even now, many don't know the gods are gone.

The Faith Storm caused no disruption either—the main plane seemed peaceful, the Palace of Rest tranquil.

But the King hadn't anticipated that his two most capable subordinates would die or lose their memories—the Grand Sage was trapped in the Abyss, the Palace of Rest remained sealed and gradually collapsed, and the Undying Empire shattered.

A thousand years passed. The King never returned. Gods slowly reemerged. A new Lord of Mourning was born. The Palace of Rest welcomed its new master. The Undying Soul Fragment found its heir.

These revelations were too shocking. Negril couldn't process them all at once, so he changed the subject: "Feti, what are your plans now?"

"Return to the Palace of Rest." Feti said.

"That's impossible. The Palace of Rest's current master is Ang. You haven't surrendered your soul—you can't return." Negril said.

Not only could he not return to the Palace of Rest—he couldn't go anywhere else. If a Lord of Mourning appeared on the main plane, the result would be catastrophic—no one could stop him. If he went rogue, Ang might lose even his farming grounds.

Feti casually picked up a skull, flicked a soulfire into it, and tossed it into the pile of bones—crackling, the skull quickly reassembled into a skeletal form.

Aside from half-skeletons, the Bone Skeleton was the lowest rank among skeletons.

Feti's body stiffened—immediately, the Bone Skeleton came alive, and Feti's voice echoed from it: "I'll project onto it and go take a look."

That was acceptable. A Bone Skeleton, even with ill intent, could do nothing.

"Ang, Ang, Kuba Da, what are you doing again? This place is dark, dry, and freezing—what can you possibly grow here?" Negril fumed.

That damn skeleton had gone off to till the land again while everyone was talking—but this barren plane had no sunlight, no water, and was freezing cold—what could he grow?

Ang pulled out Soul Moss.

"Puh…" Negril couldn't spit blood—but there was no unsuitable climate, only unsuitable crops.

Kuba Da—this environment was perfect for Soul Moss: dry, cold, abundant corpses, rich soul energy, yet not so dense as to trigger the Deathwind of the Palace of Rest.

"We're about to return…" Before he finished speaking, they saw Ang step down—his newly sown Soul Moss erupted into rapid growth.

Feti's projected Bone Skeleton stroked its jaw, murmuring: "Our new Undying God seems to have something… can the Death Aura be used like this?"

After triggering a crop of dozens of acres of Soul Moss, Ang stopped. This crop wasn't needed often—dozens of acres would last a long time, even accounting for Sawa's new Sleep Beauty Potion.

He shoved Feti's projected Bone Skeleton into the Palace of Rest, then stepped slowly into the air, scanning the land before him. On his back, a ring appeared—the Scale Ring.

Ten thousand, one hundred thousand, five hundred thousand, seven hundred thousand… His gaze covered seven hundred thousand corpses. Many wore broken armor or clutched shattered weapons—this was clearly an ancient battlefield.

Not all seven hundred thousand corpses had soulfire; perhaps less than one-fifth did. The rest may have faded, like those in the Abyss.

Undead aren't truly immortal. Trapped in a sealed space without soul replenishment, they slowly perish.

"Something's there." Ang suddenly pointed to the horizon's edge—under the Scale Ring's glow, that region held far more undead with soulfire.

Leaving Feti's stunned body behind, the group flew to the horizon's end—and saw a vast expanse of tents.

The tents were tattered, collapsed over what lay beneath. When they lifted them, they found nothing but wooden crates—each tent held hundreds of crates, each packed with oil-paper-wrapped bundles.

"Soul Crystals!" Negril cried, tearing open an oil-paper bundle.

"Soul Crystals!"

"All Soul Crystals!" Everyone eagerly tore open most bundles, revealing intact Soul Crystals inside.

"Why so many Soul Crystals? Good heavens—did the Undying Empire's logistics transport not grain, but Soul Crystals?"