Chapter 38: What Use Are Soul Flames?

Lan and Anna burst in, one covering her mouth and holding her arms, the other grabbing her legs, forcibly dragging Lisa out.

“Mmmmm… let go of me! I must preach to him, I must make him feel the power of our Lord! Let me go!” By the time Lisa broke free, she had no idea where she’d been dragged.

Ang had no idea Lisa was tirelessly spreading his fame, but recently many inexplicable soul flames had drifted to him—especially the undead fire near the temple, and especially when Lisa and Ock were nearby, as if these three were soul flame reservoirs, drawing waves of soul flames whenever they approached.

Yet as soul flames grew more numerous, Ang still didn’t know how to use them.

So far, Ang had discovered a few uses for soul flames: first, as energy to transfer items within the Palace of Rest—transferring grain required soul flame, and transferring the Brass Book also required soul flame, though the Brass Book needed not only soul flame but also unsealing, since it was sealed.

This shattered Negrilis’s dream of regaining freedom, causing it to favor projection even more—now it almost constantly projected onto Ang, pointing and gesturing.

Fortunately, Ang was a skeleton with no private life; otherwise, they’d likely have tried to add several more seals to him.

Second, soul flame could restore Ang’s depleted soul energy—a practical use, but Ang rarely consumed soul energy; he didn’t fight others, and aside from using the Scythe of Death to harvest crops, his soul energy expenditure was minimal.

Third… hmm, replacing damaged bones caused significant energy loss, but Ang had already found another way to repair bones: the chilling aura within the Wind of Rest, making bone replacement unnecessary.

Unused soul flames accumulated in vast quantities; he, the undead fire, Lisa, Ock, the young zombie, and the angelic skeleton could consume only a tiny fraction—daily offerings from worshippers at the temple alone overwhelmed their capacity.

Fortunately, Ang had a leather ornament like an endless void—he simply stuffed excess soul flames into it.

Moreover, as soul flames increased, the ornament seemed to undergo subtle changes—its demonic runes multiplying steadily.

Could this ornament evolve?

Ang asked Negrilis about this, but strangely, Negrilis couldn’t perceive the leather ornament at all—he knew Ang carried one, yet saw nothing, for reasons unknown.

Since it had little use, Ang paid it little mind, completely unaware that Lisa had already spread his fame to Ice City.

Even if he had discovered it, he wouldn’t have cared much—he was just a skeleton who farmed; anything that didn’t help him grow crops, he ignored.

…………

Two days later, his whole body itched, yet the spot on his hand where Lisa’s holy light had touched remained unchanged—Silvercoin finally confirmed: a miracle had truly occurred on him; the woman shouting “Our Lord Ang” could indeed cure his lingering affliction.

“Lord Lan, who was that beautiful lady the day before yesterday? May I visit her?” Silvercoin approached Lan and Anna.

“Lady? What lady? Which day?” Lan looked utterly confused.

“The lady you and Miss Anna dragged away that day.”

“Oh, Lisa? She’s gone back. She lives in the far northern wastes—half a year’s journey to reach home. You wish to visit her? You’d better prepare thoroughly; the Wind of Rest out in the wilds is brutal.”

“Oh oh, so far away? Then Lady Lisa must be extraordinarily powerful—walking half a year through the Wind of Rest? Amazing!” Silvercoin said with admiration.

Now he understood why this world suffered from famine: every evening, the punctual Wind of Rest blew—a death wind that killed all living things, even undead creatures, let alone crops.

A delicate, tender, living woman walking half a year through the Wind of Rest? Are you kidding the slime? Only brainless soft monsters would believe that.

But Lan clearly didn’t want them to meet—he used this flimsy excuse to drive Silvercoin away.

On the way back, Silvercoin kept pondering whether to use his ultimate tactic—before he could decide, a wisp of smoke suddenly surged from the ground and clung to him: a wraith.

The two maids instinctively moved to attack, but he stopped them—the wraith emitted a woman’s voice: “When the Wind of Rest rises, walk left against the wind.”

Silvercoin vaguely remembered: that was the same voice that had shouted “Our Lord Ang” that day.

That evening, when the Wind of Rest rose, Silvercoin stepped out and walked left against the wind—the two maids were far more sensitive to the Wind of Rest than he was and couldn’t leave at all, so he went alone.

Not long after stepping out, he was pulled into a ditch.

For over a thousand years, people had compiled countless methods to cope with the Wind of Rest—ditches, holes, tunnels, underground passages; with the ability of a mad infrastructure builder, one could even carve a city of connected trenches across the surface.

But it was meaningless—population was too sparse; no matter how grand the ideas, none could be realized.

Inside the ditch, Silvercoin met Lisa—eager to speak, he was silenced by her raised finger; she led him through twisting turns to a cave.

“Chairman Silvercoin, I heard you wished to see me?” Lisa finally stopped and turned to him.

Silvercoin rubbed his nose—he’d just gone to find Lan and Anna, and immediately Lisa found him—how thoroughly had Lisa infiltrated Ice City?

After thinking, Silvercoin rolled up his sleeve, revealing the spot where Lisa’s holy light had touched, and asked: “You performed a miracle on my hand.”

Lisa smiled faintly: “That was the power of our Lord Ang.”

Silvercoin pulled his sleeve higher, exposing the rotting skin beneath, and asked: “Could you perform that miracle here again?”

The lingering affliction had flared, but because of Lisa, he’d resisted taking medicine—he desperately wanted to know if Lisa truly possessed the power to cure him.

Lisa’s expression turned unsurprised: “I knew it would be this way—the Corrosion Scar. The Church of Light’s method of control remains as vile as ever.”

Silvercoin’s expression stiffened—Corrosion Scar? A method of control? Could his suspicion be true?