Chapter 407

"Come on, let me see—can only one consciousness be projected at a time?" Nagelis exclaimed excitedly.

Good heavens, if all communication and trade across the world go through the House of the Departed, and Du Luo can control it, doesn't that mean all information is open to them?

Even if Nagelis wasn't as skilled in commerce as the God of Merchants' Silver Coin, he knew this was an incredibly terrifying level of authority—properly wielded, it could mean collecting taxes from a seated position, making money while lying down, and becoming rich overnight without issue.

"Only one consciousness can connect," Locke said, this minor issue didn't require Du Luo to answer.

But her answer didn't hold for Du Luo—he looked around and said: "I designed this ritual array too. Originally, for ease of testing, only one projection was allowed. I'll modify it."

He pulled out the Gold-Touching Rod, made a few swift strokes on the altar, then said: "Done. Come in."

Ange, Nagelis, and Locke extended their consciousnesses into the Soulfire.

Whoosh! They felt themselves enter a tower—narrow in width but towering into the clouds, the environment oddly familiar.

"Isn't this my Brass Book Tower?" Nagelis exclaimed. It was no longer shaped like a book but had reverted to its embryonic dragon form.

In the center, there was no small lectern holding its Brass Book; instead, shelves lined the walls, stacked with books extending upward beyond sight.

Ghosts drifted back and forth, pulling books from the shelves.

Du Luo spread his hands: "So the Emperor copied my design? The Brass Book Tower was mine too."

He gestured around the environment: "I've explained the difference between points and networks before. The vertical channel in the tower's center is the point—connected to relay spirits. The books on the shelves are the network—each book belongs to a mark, corresponding to individuals like Locke who've applied for a mark."

"Look at those ghosts—they're consciousnesses projected into the relay spirits, performing tasks. They use low-tier marks. We entered with the highest authority mark, so we can see them. They aren't real—they're manifested for clarity, so the Emperor can better understand."

Nagelis blinked: "So the Emperor can better understand?"

"Yes. Originally, my design had no books or tower—just the marks. Simpler. But the Emperor rejected it—he said he couldn't understand it. He told me to simplify it. This is the result."

Du Luo drifted to a shelf, pulled out a random book, and showed it to them. It read: Oneya, coordinates: …￥%#&, time: ￥…#%￥*, then nothing else.

He returned the book, pulled another—same details: name, coordinates, time.

Nagelis said: "These two times are different—probably registration times. What about those? What do the glowing books represent?"

Du Luo drifted up, picked a glowing book, and floated back. As he rose, he accidentally bumped into a ghost.

The ghost couldn't see him—only felt a bump, looked around confusedly, then shrugged and resumed work.

"You bumped into a ghost. Are you okay?" Nagelis asked.

"Fine. It can't see us. We entered with the highest authority mark; they use low-tier marks. From its perspective, the book tower doesn't exist—the whole world is pitch black. Only glowing marks are visible to it."

Opening the glowing book, it contained more than just name, coordinates, and time—a farmer in rustic garb pleaded anxiously:

"Please, I beg you—we need twenty thousand jin of grain. We'll pay twenty gold coins per ton. Whoever has extra, sell us some—any amount will do. Otherwise, people will starve soon."

A ghost glanced toward the book, frowned, drifted over, grabbed the book, tugged—it wouldn't budge. Tugged again—still stuck.

It puffed out its cheeks, rolled up its sleeves, hugged the book tightly, and pulled with all its strength.

If it kept this up, it might grow suspicious. Du Luo reluctantly let go—the ghost misjudged the force, tumbled backward clutching the book.

It scrambled up, scratched its head, utterly baffled, then angrily slapped the book and shoved it upward.

Du Luo drifted up again, pulled another book—same plea for grain. He pulled several more—all grain requests—until the seventh book, which finally showed a different need.

A female swordsman displayed her longsword, pausing at the hilt, detailing it: "Flame Sword Saint Lutixiya seeks a Flame Seal. Must have Level Six flame enhancement and storage for two or more Level Six defensive spells. I'll pay fifty magic crystals."

"This one's good. I'll take it." Du Luo swept his hand over the book—the glow vanished.

Without the glow, the ghost couldn't see it. The ghost, drifting toward it, scratched its head, then drifted away.

"Come on, let's get out," Du Luo said.

Exiting the House of the Departed's soul network, Du Luo said to Ange: "My lord, I need dragon-scale steel and mithril."

Ange nodded, focused, and pulled out a large ingot of dragon-scale steel.

Du Luo casually forged several flame seals and set them aside for later use.

Twenty minutes later, Ange reached out again and pulled out a large ingot of mithril.

Locke's eyes widened to saucers, her pupils glued to the mithril. Holy crap—this leg to hug might be made of magic crystals. How rich is this guy?

Nagelis noticed something: "Only twenty minutes? How can you grab again already?"

Ange originally needed thirty minutes per grab—now it's shortened by nearly ten minutes. What caused the reduction?

"Soul strength," Ange replied.

Nagelis leaned in, sensed it—indeed stronger. Compared to half a month ago, Ange's soul heart had gone from shriveled and dried to a "normal" level.

"So your grabbing ability correlates with soul strength. If you keep improving, will you eventually grab once a minute? Or every few seconds?" Nagelis muttered.

Ange tilted his head, froze suddenly—he felt someone touching his body.

He retracted his consciousness, looked down—Little Angel puffed her cheeks, angrily poking his ribs with her finger, one jab after another.

Nearby, Little Zombie, Lightning, Big Cat, Lisa, and Silver Coin had all arrived.