Chapter 35

“Thank you, my lord. The demon who destroyed seven of our Ice City cultivation zones has been slain by you—we are immensely grateful. This is a small token from Ice City, hoping you will like it.” With that, Lan bowed and presented a helmet with both hands.

“Huh? What’s this? Interesting. Made of demon steel with soul iron layered inside, slender in shape, no space left for earlobes—it’s clearly a helmet specially made for skeletons. How fascinating. A skeleton-specific helmet?” Nagelis projected into Ang’s soul, marveling with a Zeze sound.

Ang tilted his head and asked Lan: “What is this?”

Lan shook her head. “We don’t know either. But no living person can wear it. We believe it was made specifically for skeletons—perhaps only in your hands can its true power be unlocked.”

Ang tapped the helmet. Inside, it was solid—his soul could not penetrate it. When he placed it on his head, it fit perfectly and locked in place, not even shaking when he shook his head.

It was indeed made for skeletons. For living beings, with hair, flesh, and earlobes, the interior would be entirely different. Here, the helmet bulged at the ear region, locking snugly against the skull’s recessed ear sockets—so stable even without a chin strap.

The moment he put it on, the entire world grew suddenly quiet, as if entering a silence spell.

Skeletons perceive the world through soul vibrations, primarily radiating from the eye sockets, though the skull itself is also penetrated—just far more weakly.

Thus, skeletons have a 360-degree field of view, but only directly ahead is clear; other angles are blurry and distant, becoming mere distractions.

With the helmet on, since soul vibrations could not penetrate it, all those blurry perceptions vanished—only what the eye sockets directly illuminated remained, and perception instantly sharpened.

It was fun. Ang took off the helmet and said: “I like it.”

“Phew, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad you like it.” Lan exhaled deeply, finally letting the knot in her throat settle.

The gift wasn’t given lightly. Even if the lord liked her present, she could now dare to voice her small request.

“My lord, the clients are extremely satisfied with the Holy Mushroom Powder. But the quantity is too large—they can’t consume it all. They hope you can refine it into Holy Essence Liquid. They’re willing to pay five times the price.”

Ang didn’t understand yet, but Nagelis was already cursing: “They’re dreaming! Holy Essence Liquid for only five times the price? They’re dreaming! These damn merchants—definitely goblins. Shameless swindlers!”

Nagelis’s fury looked as if he himself had been cheated by goblins—he gnashed his teeth, as if ready to leap out of Ang’s soul.

“What is Holy Essence Liquid?” Ang asked, puzzled.

“It’s a liquid extracted from purified Holy Water using Holy Mushroom Powder. Its effects are miraculous. The powder can remove minor negative effects—like stopping bleeding, curing diarrhea, colds, or fever—but it won’t work on serious injuries: severed limbs, large burns, poisoning, allergies, or aging. That requires the essence liquid.”

“If you soak a severed limb wound in the essence liquid, a new limb grows in three to five days. Though Holy Magic has restoration spells, only level-eight or higher priests can cast them. Without connections, how could you ever hire a level-nine priest? But Holy Essence Liquid is far easier to obtain.”

“And for allergies—magic is useless. But the essence liquid can alter tissue, slow aging, and even suit sensitive skin. However, extracting the same weight of Holy Essence Liquid requires over five times the powder—and vast amounts of Holy Water. They offer only five times the price? What else are they but swindlers? Is mana free? Is time free? Is skill free? No. We must raise the price.”

“When I was young, those goblin swindlers ruined me. They wanted Dragon Saliva Grass and offered a price I couldn’t refuse. Said it grew where dragons spat on the ground—but didn’t say how long they had to spit. I ended up spitting for fifty years straight. Swindlers!”

After explaining Holy Essence Liquid, Nagelis couldn’t stop grumbling. Who hadn’t been young? The Omniscient God of Knowledge himself had once been naive and cheated terribly.

Ang summarized Nagelis’s rant and extracted one key point: “Raise the price.”

“Huh? Raise it? By how much?” Lan blinked. She wasn’t surprised by “raise the price”—business was always about negotiation. She’d only pretended to be shocked, to keep Ang from demanding too much.

Ang had no concept of price. In the end, Nagelis set it: “Ten times.”

One jin of Holy Mushroom Powder cost thirty magic crystals. One jin of Holy Essence Liquid would require three hundred magic crystals.

The price was too high. Lan couldn’t decide. She stepped aside, closed her eyes, and communicated with Anna of Ice City via soul. She agreed to the price.

“My lord, here’s the deposit. We need five jin of Holy Essence Liquid. When can you deliver?”

“Ten days.” Ang relayed Nagelis’s words. Lan left happily.

Looking at the bag of magic crystals Lan had handed over, Nagelis said inside Ang’s soul: “So their client is the Church of Light.”

Ang tilted his head, confused.

Nagelis explained: “The shroud fabric—no runes printed on it. Only the Church of Light can weave this material.”

“Don’t they produce it themselves?” Ang asked, puzzled. Didn’t the Church of Light grow Holy Mushrooms too?

Nagelis rolled his eyes. “Do you think everyone’s as twisted as you? How many priests does it take just to purify Holy Water? How much time and effort to grow the mushrooms and extract the essence? The cost would be astronomical. Now you can buy one jin for just three hundred magic crystals—what a bargain!”

“Oh.” Ang replied, unsure if he understood. Harvesting, drying, grinding, extracting—ten days later, he delivered the essence liquid, refined from thirty jin of Holy Mushroom Powder.

Lan returned to Ice City at top speed, contacted the clients who had placed the order, and delivered the essence liquid.

…

In the human plane, at the southernmost tip of the land, Saint Blade Fortress—the headquarters of the Saint Blade Knights. Knight-Lord Leonhard had just finished training, his upper body bare, steaming as he stepped out of the training yard.

The serving maids nearby gazed at his muscular frame with dazed eyes, blushing furiously, their heartbeats loud enough for the next room to hear.

Leonhard smiled faintly, his lips curving into a perfect arc, nodding gently at the maids.

The maids’ legs went weak. They barely held themselves together, surrounding him to wipe his body, change his clothes, and finally presented a bottle of transparent liquid.

Leonhard raised an eyebrow. “Huh? The essence liquid arrived?” He poured a little into his palm, rubbed it on his face, patting gently to help absorption.

If those with severed limbs or disabilities knew Leonhard used Holy Essence Liquid as skincare, they’d probably leap out of bed in rage.

Feeling the effect was excellent, Leonhard asked: “Where’s this from? As far as I know, the diocese hasn’t allocated Holy Essence Liquid to Saint Blade Army.”

“It was delivered by the quartermaster,” one maid replied.

“Have the quartermaster come see me,” Leonhard said.

Soon, the quartermaster arrived, finding Leonhard fully dressed.

“You’re saying this Holy Essence Liquid was bought from a Shenyuan plane? How much? Where’s the rest?” Leonhard asked.

“We bought five jin. Kept two bottles for you, the rest sent to the medical corps for wounded soldiers,” the quartermaster reported.

Leonhard flicked his hand—a gust of aura slapped the quartermaster’s face. “Are you stupid? Do you know how much one bottle sells for in the capital? A thousand magic crystals! And you gave it to those fools? Wounded soldiers are fools—do they deserve this? Get it back immediately!”

The quartermaster clutched his face, stammering: “Yes yes yes.” Internally, he was heartbroken. Didn’t the diocese always allocate Holy Essence Liquid to wounded soldiers? Now they stopped, so he went out of his way to get some—why shouldn’t the soldiers use it?

After scolding the quartermaster, Leonhard recalled something: “You said this came from a Shenyuan plane? What level is it?”

“Level six. One of their conditions for selling this liquid is exchanging for grain. So it’s likely a grain-starved plane, small population, no teleportation array—they require us to deliver to fixed locations,” the quartermaster replied.

Leonhard nodded thoughtfully, waving his hand. “No major missions lately. Don’t feed those fools too much—might cause trouble. By the way, how much did this essence liquid cost?”

The quartermaster answered: “Original price: three thousand magic crystals. We paid only fifteen hundred—the rest exchanged for one hundred tons of grain, delivered to fixed locations.”

“What?! Three thousand magic crystals per jin?” Leonhard couldn’t believe his ears.

“No—three thousand for five jin.”

Leonhard took the essence liquid and examined it closely. The price was too low—so low he suspected it might be fake.

After checking, it was genuine—and its effect seemed even better than the diocese’s. He knew the diocese’s batches were always watered down; everyone knew, but no one spoke up—better to keep things peaceful.

This bottle was pure, concentrated essence—no water added.

One bottle was about a hundred milliliters, worth a thousand magic crystals. Five jin meant twenty-five thousand magic crystals. The quartermaster bought it for only three thousand—nearly a ninefold profit.

He thought for a moment, then asked: “Where did you get this information about the plane?”

“Our agents disguised as goblin merchants gathered it.”

“No one else knows? Transfer this intelligence to me, then burn all backups. Understood?” Leonhard instructed. After the quartermaster left, a bright smile appeared on his face as he murmured: “Ninefold profit is still too little. Let’s try some cost-free methods.”