Chapter 419: Descending from the Sky

Screaming for help, Silver Coin's whole body radiated a golden glow, rapidly scattering glittering golden light, along with some rather unreal 'gold coins'—the power of money bewitching many eyes.

The moment some person couldn't resist the temptation and bent down to pick one up, Silver Coin furiously swung a big bundle like a hammer, smashing the other party flying.

"How dare you steal my money!?" Silver Coin said viciously. He didn't look like a cautious, careful merchant at all—more like an Ange whose vegetable field had been set on fire.

But there were too many enemies, and among them were many people with firm wills, completely unbeguiled by the power of money. Instead, because of this, they regarded Silver Coin as an even greater threat and concentrated their fire on him.

An Erosion Arrow shot out from behind the crowd, first arcing upward, then, after passing over the crowd, suddenly bending and plunging down, striking Silver Coin's body.

"Receive the erosion of death!" Seeing his target hit, a necromancer in the enemy formation shouted viciously.

For the living, an Erosion Arrow was like a torture that ate flesh and gnawed bone. If the death energy carried by the Erosion Arrow couldn't be quickly purified, flesh and blood would be corroded unceasingly until death.

Originally thinking Silver Coin would at least shed a layer of skin even if he didn't die, the necromancer instead saw Silver Coin casually pat himself, and the Erosion Arrow was gone… gone?

"How is that possible? Such a living person, not dead, and the Erosion Arrow actually doesn't hurt him?" The necromancer widened his eyes in disbelief and fired several more Erosion Arrows.

Seeing they were still Erosion Arrows, Silver Coin couldn't be bothered to deal with them and let them fall on his body as they pleased.

The necromancer fired another Death Breath Arrow.

This one needed attention—otherwise he'd get pierced through. Silver Coin swung his big coin pouch and smashed the Death Breath Arrow apart.

Curse, Rotting Whip, Slumber, Soul Shock!

The necromancer kept trying every kind of necromancy, but basically none of them worked. Furious, he shoved aside the followers in front of him, faced Silver Coin directly, and shouted loudly: "Little runt! Look into my eyes."

Silver Coin looked over. The necromancer cast a Soul Shock.

But when his Soul Shock was sent out, what it crashed into was an even stronger soul, looking down at him from above.

"You… how do you also have a soul?" The necromancer only had time to think this thought before being smashed down by that stronger soul.

His body jolted as if struck by lightning, his whole upper body flung backward, blood welling from his eye sockets, and he collapsed dead on the ground.

Soul Shock was this dangerous to the living—especially when a mortal body tried to assault the soul of a deity.

Silver Coin blinked in confusion. He felt something impact his soul, but it didn't cause any harm, so he quickly tossed the matter aside.

The group fought as they retreated, all the way back to Marquis Feiwo's estate. Marquis Feiwo, whose hip had been slashed, limped along at the very front.

They held the estate gate for a while, but the wall was breached by the enemy again. They had no choice but to keep fighting and retreating, falling back to the cemetery, using its terrain to resist.

"What do we do, what do we do? We're doomed." Marquis Feiwo panicked, unable to sit still.

Silver Coin said calmly: "Don't panic, my lord will come rescue us."

After saying that, he added inwardly: If it weren't for the distance being too far, my lord would have descended long ago.

"Will… will he? Will my lord really come save us?" Feiwo wasn't familiar with Seeing Ange, so he asked anxiously.

"He will, definitely. By the way, what's the background of the people attacking us?" Silver Coin asked.

"Who else could it be—Count Gula, president of the Grain Merchants' Guild, the most powerful person in North Wind City after the City Lord." Feiwo said.

Silver Coin blinked, puzzled: "You're a marquis, he's a count—how is he more powerful?"

Marquis Feiwo rubbed his hands awkwardly: "My marquis title was bought with money. His count title was fought for. How can they compare?"

This world didn't have any royalty or royal families. The City Lord of each main city was a king-rank noble, with the qualification to enfeoff titles, and the title system was very lax.

Often a marquis of one city had less power than a count of another city, and titles could even be bought with money, making it even less reliable.

Count Gula had several grain merchants' guilds under him, mainly dealing in Bulk Goods like grain, oil, rice, and flour. He had plenty of people, strong troops and sturdy horses—how could a hollow marquis like Feiwo compare?

"So they cut off the roads too, trying to create panic, drive up grain prices, and force others to drop out of the City Lord bidding?" Silver Coin analyzed.

"That should be it. Driving up grain prices might be secondary; creating a sense of urgency to scare off the other bidders is the real goal. Whoever sits in the City Lord seat will have to deal with severed trade routes and soaring grain prices. Anyone who doesn't think they can solve these problems will definitely drop out of the race."

After finishing his analysis, Feiwo suddenly realized: "No wonder when I hinted to a few acquaintances this time, none of them responded. Turns out they already knew the opponent was Count Gula the Baldy."

"Baldy?" Silver Coin's attention was instantly diverted.

"Right. Count Gula wears a tall hat all year round, hot or cold, because his forehead is bald." Feiwo said gleefully.

Silver Coin's swindler soul immediately began to stir, and he couldn't help wanting to drum up business: Growing hair—our Goddess of Beauty is the most professional at it.

Forcibly Miss Anna-ing this impulse, Silver Coin continued asking: "How many people does this Count Gula have under him? Any strong ones?"

"Yes. He has at least two eighth-tier mages, three high-tier swordsmen, and one potion warlock under his command."

Silver Coin waited a while, then realized Feiwo had stopped: "That's it? Just this? No Sword Saints or Archmage-tier or anything?"

"Impossible. If he could subdue that kind of strongman, would he still be stuck in North Wind City? He'd have long gone to the Restful Plains to work for the Undying Empire." Feiwo scoffed.

The Restful Plains?

After chatting a while longer, there was a stir outside the mausoleum—sounded like the enemy was mobilizing.

Silver Coin peeked out and saw a warlock handing out bottles of red potion to the enemy swordsmen one by one.

Feiwo, who had peeked out, went pale in an instant: "We're done for, done for. Count Gula's potion warlock is here. We're done for."

"So the potion warlock's here—so what? Why be afraid? Potion masters don't have much combat power." Silver Coin said, puzzled.

"Potion masters don't have combat power, but they have potions! He's handing out Bloodlust Potions now. Lord Silver Coin, when is my lord coming?" Feiwo asked urgently.

"Soon, soon, should be almost here." Silver Coin replied, not entirely confident himself. He would definitely come, but the enemy was already distributing Bloodlust Potions—could they hold out until Seeing Ange arrived?

Feiwo said worriedly: "The city gate must have been taken by them too. I'm afraid even if my lord comes, he won't be able to get in."

Just as Feiwo finished speaking, a flapping sound suddenly came from the sky. Little Yellow Dragon, foam bubbling from his nose, foaming at the mouth, tongue lolling out long, descended from the sky carrying Seeing Ange on his back.