Chapter 426: Can I Return a Defective One?

"Silver coins… hit people?" Hearing Ang's words, Negril was utterly astonished—silver coins could hit people? When had this good-natured merchant learned to strike back?

True, when he was beaten up in North Wind City, he had swung his money bag to defend himself, but that was self-defense; Ang's words now clearly implied the silver coins were acting 'on their own'—completely different in nature.

A crowd rushed to the gates of Gushing Fortress and saw silver coins swinging his money bag, chasing and beating a dozen rough-looking thugs, shouting angrily as he struck: "Dare you collect protection money from me? Dare you charge me management fees? Dare you demand land-use fees? You bloodsuckers—I'll beat you to death!"

Negril stared blankly: "What's going on? This small scene—why are you doing it yourself, Silver?"

After beating the thugs into bloody, groveling heaps, Silver walked back, still furious: "When I was young, selling on the streets, I hated these bastards—they bullied small vendors every day. Just now, while handing out vegetable dumplings, they showed up claiming I was illegally occupying space and demanded management and land-use fees. It made me so angry!"

Negril and Du Luo exchanged amused glances: "Rare to see you, merchant, lose your composure like this. Just a few thugs—why not just kill them?"

The groveling thugs turned pale with fear—what!? Collecting protection money was enough to get you killed? They thought Silver was terrifying enough, but now they realized there were worse.

Silver scratched his head: "No need to kill them—just annoying. Used to put up with it, but today someone dares charge me these extra fees—I lost my temper."

A loud, arrogant voice rang from the ramparts: "Pay taxes as required, operate within designated zones, cooperate with management—it's perfectly normal! Why can't we charge you today? Who do you think you are?"

Looking up, they saw a knight in full armor standing atop Gushing Fortress's wall, looking down at Ang's group.

Negril and the others exchanged glances, unsure how to respond. If they told the truth, the man would think they were bluffing—could they say this goblin was the God of Merchants and this little yellow dragon was the God of Knowledge?

But if they didn't tell the truth, what fake identity should they invent?

They agonized over this, but Ji Li had no such hesitation—now that she knew her backers were terrifyingly powerful, she was brimming with courage and pointed straight at the man on the wall: "And who the hell are you!? No one taught you manners? %&#*￥#@…"

In that instant, everyone wondered if Ji Li had been possessed by lightning.

The knight froze, then turned crimson with rage, pointing at Ji Li: "Shoot them dead!"

At his command, over a dozen archers appeared on the wall, drawing bows and aiming down at them.

Negril and the others almost laughed—bows? Could they even hurt them?

Before Negril could react, Ang moved—he crouched and let out a piercing shriek.

Every archer on the wall screamed as if seeing something horrific, dropping their bows, clutching their ears, and scattering in panic like a nest of startled wasps—one so terrified he tumbled straight off the wall.

Fear spell?

Negril couldn't help covering his face—he knew why Ang cast Fear, pretending to be a necromancer, but this was too extreme: a single shriek triggering mass fear on over a dozen targets—that was at least a high-level spell.

Necromancers who could cast high-level spells instantly could be counted on two hands.

Naturally, Ang hadn't cast a spell—he'd used Soul Intimidation, generated by his overwhelming soul, producing an effect nearly identical to Fear. It was just that Ang's disguise as a necromancer was far too advantageous.

Under the "fear," the archers couldn't shoot. Ang snapped his fingers—two Wandering Wraiths shrieked and surged up the wall. Then he reached out, grasping air to summon a Death Scythe, swinging it as he leapt.

Continuous winds lifted his body, hurling him onto the rampart, the scythe hooking toward the knight's throat.

Negril covered his face again: "You're pretending to be a necromancer—why bring out a Death Scythe? Are you a mage or a skeleton?"

Others didn't have Negril's thoughts—living Ang? No one linked him to skeletons. They assumed it was just some unusual weapon; these days, many worshipped undead-themed melee classes using scythes and hammers.

CLANG! CLANG-CLANG-CLANG! CLANG! A series of clashes—the knight's throat was severed by the scythe's edge.

If his soul still had awareness, he'd never dare order anyone to shoot Ang again—this man was hypersensitive to attacks.

The remaining archers, recovering from fear, didn't even pick up their bows—screaming, they scattered in all directions.

"So… we've taken the wall? Can we open or close the gate now?" Negril fluttered up, looking at the empty rampart, speaking as if it weren't real.

A puff of smoke rose by the gate mechanism, coalescing into Du Luo Ken—he tapped his Golden Rod lightly, and the gate slowly lowered and opened.

Refugees inside surged out; those outside pushed desperately to get in—total chaos.

Silver organized those who'd helped him earlier to maintain order, using the vegetable dumplings to lure more fighters to join.

The original order-maintainers were promoted on the spot to manage the rest—forming a crude but functional hierarchy.

With food, combat strength, and organization, the chaos of Gushing Fortress was suddenly quelled.

It was unbelievable—this was a city of ten thousand people—but it happened.

Some tried to act—foreigners had inexplicably seized the city; the locals who'd been fighting each other were furious.

But sadly, none were worth Du Luo Ken's attention—he dispatched them in seconds, none even reaching Ang.

The next morning, the Du Lait family arrived in full force.

The Du Lait family had become Du Luo Ken's faithful believers—they once thought their founder was a powerful alchemist; now they believed Du Luo Ken was the God—God of Alchemy.

Originally, their alchemical limbs were meant only to replace missing parts, restoring basic self-sufficiency—anything that didn't hinder daily life was good enough. But under Du Luo Ken's enhancements, these limbs became powerful weapons.

Lait's alchemical arm could crush a gold bar effortlessly; Rona's legs were like twin spring blades; others had various enhancements.

With these limbs, they could easily defeat intermediate swordsmen, even assassinate stronger foes by surprise.

"If we'd had these back then, the family wouldn't have been wiped out—we wouldn't have fled like goblin dogs," Lait muttered lovingly while maintaining his alchemical arm.

In truth, his arm needed no maintenance—the moving parts were coated with graphite lubricant; even after total wear, the lubrication never faded.

The casing was seamless—he couldn't even touch the inside, only polish the exterior with deer hide until it gleamed.

But this maintenance habit was ingrained from his earlier life—his old alchemical limbs creaked if not maintained every few days.

Bored, and determined to rebuild the Du Lait family, Lait began adopting orphaned children with physical disabilities, planning to train them as loyal disciples of Lord Du Luo Ken.

But as he adopted more, he stopped limiting himself to orphans—anyone with a physical disability, adult or child, was taken in.

Du Luo Ken designed custom prosthetics for each person's specific loss, then had Lait, Rona, and others craft them. After crafting, Du Luo Ken would explain the designs, correct flaws, and refine each piece into a perfected product.

Thus, during this period, Lait, Rona, and the others' alchemy skills skyrocketed. Specializing in prosthetic alchemy, their craftsmanship improved rapidly, and their prosthetics grew stronger.

Now, this group was summoned to Gushing Fortress.

Fei Wo also sent some experienced administrators to assist.

The next day, Ang still provided food—yesterday, Silver had seized the granary and taken all the grain.

But the granary held only fifteen days' worth of food; under current conditions, they must ration it strictly, or after fifteen days, everyone would starve again.

With Ang providing food, it was much easier—the packet of elf beans from yesterday wasn't finished; today they continued with vegetable dumplings, now mixed with flour into oil-vegetable cakes.

"This amount doesn't add up," Negril asked. "Wasn't it one bean per meal? A bag has over thirty thousand beans—three meals a day would use it all. Why is it still lasting?"

Silver replied: "Eating once a day won't kill you. Eating too full causes trouble. Keep them hungry—they'll lack energy to riot and won't lose ambition. Want to eat? Work. Tomorrow I'll recruit people to dig for Life Stones and repair bridges."

"... I feel you're not here to rescue people—you're here to make money. A few vegetable dumplings to recruit laborers to dig for gems and build bridges?"

If this continued, Silver's "rescue" wouldn't just break even—it would turn a massive profit. Digging gems and building bridges were dangerous jobs, demanding high pay—but now a few dumplings recruited enough workers.

Silver shrugged helplessly: "What can I do? There's no other work here to employ so many. Letting them idle invites trouble. Paying too much feels like a loss—we came here to sell vegetables. Now we can't even sell them, and we've wasted so many elf beans. We're losing money."

As he complained, while people queued for the oil-vegetable cakes, Silver shouted loudly:

"Buying! Buying! Life Stones—ten soul crystals per stone! Take as many as you have!"

"Hiring! Hiring! Diggers for Life Stones! Full meals provided! Ten soul crystals per stone bought—take as many as you have!"

"Hiring! Hiring! Road and bridge builders! Full meals provided! Twenty copper coins per day!"

"Hiring! Hiring! Weavers! Prioritize those who raise silkworms and spin thread! Full meals provided! Cloth bought at market price!"

After distributing the dumplings, Silver had acquired ten Life Stones.

Ang tossed all nine into the flowerpot, keeping only one in his hand.

The stone pulsed with emerald fluid—now they knew this green was some kind of energy, but no matter how Ang stared, he couldn't touch it—it seemed only the sapling could absorb it.

He checked the pot—the sapling had absorbed the emerald from one stone; its bud had grown slightly larger. But the sapling didn't absorb the other stones—instead, it shifted its roots, wrapping the stones into the pot's soil.

Ang tilted his head—full?

Probably. He felt the sapling brimming with vitality, like the moment before a seed cracks open.

The sapling was a unique life—Ang had zero planting experience applicable to it, not even the old Life Tree's growth patterns could be used.

Even the old tree didn't understand why the sapling remained in this "seedling" state—it already possessed immense vitality, evident from its branches, which suggested a colossal Life Tree, yet its main body remained a tiny sapling, rooted in this small pot.

The emerald energy in the Life Stones was the only thing the sapling cared about—and the only thing that could spur its growth. But what it would become, no one knew.

…

On the cliff beside Gushing Fortress, Silver pointed to the terraced fields: "Lord, all of Gushing Fortress's farmland is here. It used to be a mine. After mining ended, the locals hired earth mages to summon mud giants from below, who climbed up and covered the area with soil."

Ang nodded indifferently—he'd grown soilless rice before, let alone terraced fields with soil. As long as there was space to plant, he was fine.

He grabbed a handful of soil—the fertility was gone. The soil here was a thin layer, barely a meter thick, laid over rock; once its own nutrients were exhausted, it became useless.

Unlike ground soil, which is thick—when surface nutrients deplete, fallow years allow deeper nutrients to seep up through rain, restoring fertility.

This didn't trouble Ang—bone meal, wood ash, manure, nearby phosphorus ore, plus some insect ash—he improved the terraces' fertility.

He planted Gao potatoes suited to the local temperature and humidity, then turned his gaze to the cemetery beside the terraces.

The biggest difference from the Prime Plane was that every city had a cemetery outside it—the number of graves often exceeded the city's living population.

For example, the cemetery outside Gushing Fortress held over a hundred thousand graves—ten times the city's population. Just one percent of the skeletons emerging from it could maintain order in Gushing Fortress.

But since two months ago, no skeletons or zombies had emerged. Gushing Fortress lost its force for maintaining order; after two months of inertia, it finally collapsed.

This situation had appeared across the world. No one knew how to fix it, but everyone knew the collapse of the old order meant destruction and death.

Hooves clattered—the end of the mountain path saw five riders on undead bone horses galloping toward them.

The lead rider shouted anxiously: "Hurry! No one on the path—Gushing Fortress must be in trouble! Thank the gods we got the Undead Staff—we can summon undead from the cemetery. As long as no one's dead inside, we can still fix everything!"

The five riders galloped to the cemetery gate, dismounted, and rushed inside. The lead rider raised a skull-topped staff: "Rise, undead souls! Obey my command! Awaken from your realm of slumber!"

The skull's eye sockets flared with pale blue flame.

Ang's position was near the cemetery gate, but he stood on the terraces, three steps higher—the staff's power still affected him. A faint force spread over him, trying to force him to his knees.

Ang was baffled—he shook it off lightly, and the weak force instantly scattered.

The flame in the lead rider's skull staff flickered—*pfft*—and vanished… vanished…

The riders froze. The lead rider tapped the staff, puzzled: "Why'd it go out? Wind?"

He raised it again, shouting: "Rise, undead souls! Obey my command! Awaken from your realm of slumber!"

The cemetery remained silent. The flame in the skull didn't reignite. The lead rider murmured: "We must've gotten a defective one—it died right away. What do we do?"

"Can… can we return it?"