Chapter 374: Pick One and Kill It

In Demon Valley, a half-demon child with two demonic horns rode a bamboo horse, swinging a bamboo whip, shouting as it dashed past: "Die, evil field-destroyer! My lord Ang shall destroy you!"

The child playing the field-destroyer screamed and laughed, scattering in all directions.

Seeing this, Greenwood's wrinkled face broke into a smile; he shook his head in satisfaction and broke open a sunfire flower in his hand.

It was a magical plant similar to a sunflower, growing in environments rich with fire element, its massive blooms gathering vast amounts of fire energy to produce white seeds.

As for its use? Eat too much and you'll get overheated, it helps with bowel movement, and while practicing fire magic, snacking on these seeds accelerates recovery—plus, they taste quite good.

It couldn't compare to fire dragon fruit, which improves elemental affinity, but it was delicious and cheap, so plenty bought it.

Thus, Demon Valley now cultivated this crop in bulk, sold it to the main plane for profit, and used the money to buy grain, forming an economic cycle.

With Demon Valley's barren land, the food it produced could no longer sustain its growing population; it often needed Ang's relief—this was unhealthy.

Every place must produce to function continuously; otherwise, any accident could bring disaster, like the Wraith City years ago.

Don't think accidents won't happen—even the Undead King vanished. What could be more unexpected than that?

Ang had land to farm, but now he farmed farther and farther away, hadn't come to Demon Valley in ages—so Demon Valley needed self-reliance even more.

But Greenwood didn't see any of this as a problem; compared to when demons ruled years ago, life now was like heaven—he was already too happy, and even if he died now, he had no regrets.

He had food—three meals a day, each different.

It was unimaginable; in old Demon Valley, he was a slave, and one meal a day was already a luxury.

Even that single meal rarely filled him—only during peak farming season did the demons let them eat their fill, otherwise no one had strength to work.

As for taste, Greenwood never cared before—anything to eat was fine.

Now, after eating so many good things, when he recalled what he used to eat, he could vomit on the spot—he couldn't fathom how he'd ever swallowed it.

He had shelter: everyone in Demon Valley lived in caves carved from cliff walls, with hardened ground, clean and sanitary. Before, without doors or windows for wind and air, people froze to death in cold weather.

Now they had doors and windows, plus heating stoves; fetching a few hot rocks from the groundfire could keep them warm all night.

But because of the groundfire, the days cold enough to freeze people were only three or five at most—whether they burned stoves or not didn't matter, just having doors and windows was enough.

He had work: his main job now was watching children; Greenwood was over forty, normally the prime of human life, strong and vigorous.

But from appearance, you'd never guess he was so young—Necris had once thought he was an elderly human.

Malnourished since childhood, his body developed poorly—he lacked calcium, resulting in hunched posture, osteoporosis, and crooked teeth.

Everything else could be fixed, but calcium deficiency? Truly impossible to correct; enamel and height were already set. Even Ang could only possibly restore them with the Meishen Fist.

He couldn't do heavy labor, but watching children was fine—and Greenwood especially loved this work; seeing the boundless energy of children shouting and leaping made him feel years younger.

With food, shelter, and work, Greenwood had never felt so happy in his life, so he devoutly thanked Ang for bringing him this happiness.

In his spare time, he would look up at the magnificent place in the sky; Lady Lisa had told him it was the Undead Divine Realm, Lord Ang's temple, the final resting place of souls.

Had Necris not opposed it, Lisa would have copied the Light Church's system, tricking everyone into working hard to earn a soul's return to the divine realm and eternal peace.

But Necris opposed it, so Lisa pulled out her ultimate weapon—immortality.

Immortality, eternal youth—wasn't that more appealing than returning to the divine realm after death? And the proof was right before their eyes: only Lu Se remained alive among Ang's followers.

Devout offerings ensured retention of consciousness after death; if you became a mindless zombie or skeleton, you weren't devout enough.

Thus, most believers were deeply devout.

Greenwood was no different—he occasionally looked up at the sky… Huh? Where was the Undead Divine Realm?

The holy heaven, hanging in the sky and visible across nearly the entire Resting Abyss, had vanished without warning.

…

On the main plane, Ang shut off the Heavenly Stairway and said: "I… seem to have summoned the Heavenly Realm."

"W-what do you mean?" Necris asked, trembling.

"The Holy Heavenly Realm—I summoned it." Ang shook the Heavenly Staff, waved his hand again, and a row of fireballs shot out.

"C-can you make it retreat?" Necris swallowed hard.

Ang shook his head.

At that moment—BOOM! The entire earth and sky trembled, as if struck by something immense; the sky shimmered with seven-colored light—the sign of unstable space.

Then—CRACK! In broad daylight, the sky split open a massive hole, revealing a glimpse of the Holy Heavenly Realm, dimming the light.

The Heavenly Realm has descended!

Necris covered his eyes, too ashamed to watch—the Holy Heavenly Realm, vanished for over a thousand years, had descended today, and shattered the plane's barrier.

No need to think—every corner of the plane sensed it now; it was too late to retract it.

Helplessly, he said: "Lower the Titans. Let's finish quickly and run."

Ang raised his staff; a beam of light descended from the sky's rift—BOOM! A dark shadow dropped down: a Zihai, three meters six tall, clad in heavy armor, wielding a Spear of Thunder.

Zihai's height had reached three meters six, her entire frame enlarged several times, now bearing a hint of Titan grandeur.

"Thunder descends! Unstoppable! Victorious! Charge forward! Fallen into a pit! Quickly save me!" Zihai roared.

The light beam landed outside the array, in a swampy wetland; as soon as Zihai touched ground, she bravely shouted a few words before sinking—her heavy armor made struggling useless, and the more she struggled, the faster she sank.

Everyone exchanged glances; finally, Du Luo used his Golden Touch rod to harden the ground beneath the beam's point, and Zihai burst free.

Fine, Du Luo couldn't idle—he hardened a ring of ground around the array; the Titans landed, surrounded the array, and smashed approaching snake lice, flinging corpses onto the spikes.

As blood and flesh soaked into the spikes, the entire array expanded and rose, growing stronger—no wonder it was called the Flesh Strangling Ground; it could use the blood and flesh of corpses as energy.

The last to be summoned were two War Trees, each a hundred meters tall, now curled into a circle less than five meters wide; upon landing, their roots plunged into the swamp and unfurled like they'd been doused in fertilizer.

Far away, the three Aolong men, held aloft by tentacles, trembled as they spoke: "W-what… are these… things?"

"That man acting as a magic cannon—his mana is like the void, endless. Even Truth Mages don't reach this level. That flame bird? He casually boosted it to an Art level."

"That alchemist is strong too—his alchemy is too mysterious. I don't understand it."

"Sss—You don't understand either? You're the strongest alchemist among us Aolong!"

"Under these circumstances, calling me the strongest is like putting me on the fire—I refuse to fight enemies of this caliber."

"Sigh—that nightmare horse is terrifying. The green mist it spits? I've never seen such strong acid—it dissolves snake lice effortlessly."

If their earlier conversation was normal, now that the Holy Heavenly Realm had shattered the plane's barrier and revealed itself, their voices shook: "V-v-v-vacuum Fortress!"

"The main plane's barrier… barrier… has been shattered."

"What the hell did we run into? Our mission was only to burn fields and reduce grain yield—not to fight the plane's guardian deity!"

"What if… we run?"

The three Aolong men nodded in unison: "Good idea."

They slid down from the tentacles, ready to flee—when suddenly, the ornament on one Aolong's forehead flashed; he instantly raised his shield—CLANG! A black blade slashed against it.

The black blade missed, then vanished into thin air.

All three Aolong men's scales stood on end; they frantically cast detection spells, frantically layered shields over themselves, shouting: "Assassin! Assassin! He's invisible!"

They found nothing—as if the black blade had been an illusion.

The Aolong men froze. Assassins were mages' natural enemies; without finding the assassin, they dared not move—if they moved, many spells failed, and assassins could kill them easily.

When they didn't move, the assassin vanished as if nonexistent; when they moved, a black blade suddenly slashed toward them.

They ignored it, unleashed powerful area spells, unleashing indiscriminate attacks—but the moment they moved again, another black blade slashed.

For a time, the Aolong mages dared not move, locked in stalemate with the assassin.

The number of snake lice dwindled; the tentacle monsters began crawling out of the swamp.

"Swamp tentacle monsters? How are they so big?" This was a native swamp beast, originally small, about the size of a pig, hiding in mud, feeding on detritus.

Its usual hunting method: use tentacles to bind living prey, drag them into the mire, wait for the corpse to rot, then consume the detritus—its life form hovered between animal and plant.

But these tentacle monsters emerging now were vastly larger—each as big as a house, their tentacles swinging over ten meters long.

Yet neither the tentacle monsters nor the snake lice were particularly powerful individually; alone, they couldn't even break through Ang's fire blockade.

But they'd been careless—suddenly plunged into a sea of enemies, foes surged from all sides; Ang immediately realized his fireballs weren't enough.

With insufficient firepower, others could pick off the rest—enemies rushing close were targeted by spells, skills, or crushed by Titans.

Even Lu Se, who usually drew his sword and stared blankly because enemies were already dead, now took down over a dozen.

But nothing is endless—eventually, they'd all die. Half an hour later, the Flesh Strangling Ground was piled high with corpses; the array had grown into a massive stone platform, twenty meters in diameter and ten meters high.

On the snake lice corpses, Hemer spat green mist, dissolving them to prevent hatching of new snake lice.

Ang walked through the air; Necris and the others hurried after him, flying toward the three Aolong men.

Three dark shadows dispelled their invisibility, revealing their true forms.

"Void Walkers?!" The Aolong mages gasped, then quickly dismissed it: "No—this isn't a Void Walker. What are these things?"

The shadow's face and mouth split open, opening and closing to speak: "Don't you have Black Warriors where you come from?"

The Aolong mages blinked, utterly confused—they'd never heard the term.

Necris chuckled: "Your resurrection altars were invented by Anthony. They don't even recognize undead creatures, let alone Black Warriors."

Turning to the Aolong men, Necris asked: "What are you? Where are you from? Why did you attack us?"

The Aolong mages kept their composure: "They attacked you, not us. We don't know these monsters."

Necris spread his hands and turned to Ang: "Pick one and kill it."

Ang waved his hand—a row of fireballs blasted toward one Aolong mage, who stood on a wild stalk of rice.

Though it wasn't a great crime, Necris said pick any—so pick this one.

The Aolong mage panicked, raised his shield, tried to struggle—but it was meaningless. One row of fireballs didn't kill him? Another row came. Unless he had Ang's endless mana, he'd be worn down.

The third row shattered his defense, burning the Aolong mage to ash.

The other two Aolong mages went weak in the knees but still forced out: "We have a Spatial Art mage—he'll return, and you'll all die!"

Ang pulled out Gali Gu, waved him before their eyes; the two Aolong mages finally broke, collapsing into the mud: "We surrender! We're from Eternal Road, the Aolong clan…"

As the Aolong mages confessed everything, Ang tilted his head—he received Anthony's call.

As soon as the connection formed, he heard Anthony's anxious voice: "My Lord, half an hour ago, we detected violent impacts on the plane's barrier—could it be related to you?"

"Yes." Ang replied.

Anthony exhaled: "I knew it. Is the Heavenly Kingdom descending? I just received intelligence—all Arbiter Angels, Judging Angels, and gargoyle sentinels of the Tribunal have been deployed en masse, and even the God of Arbitration has descended. I fear…"

Before Anthony could finish, Ang suddenly replied: "I saw it."

Beyond the horizon, countless specks of light were hurtling toward them at incredible speed; the largest of these, at the forefront, belonged to a golden giant.