Chapter 441

It's normal to treat them as living beings—who could spot even a trace of undeath in these vibrant bodies at a glance? Unless one has sharp perception or direct scrutiny.

But direct scrutiny is impolite, likely to provoke conflict, and beyond the capabilities of these two goblins.

Realizing this, Silvercoin stepped forward to greet them: "Hello there, brothers! What's going on? What happened? Can you tell me? So we can prepare."

"Huh? Goblin brothers? Surprising! How come goblin brothers are here in such a remote place? Hello hello, I didn't notice you before—goblins are so easily overlooked; we need to unite more."

Seeing Silvercoin was a goblin, the two goblins instantly warmed up; the one in the back even grabbed his weapon and jumped off the construct vehicle.

Silvercoin was a merchant—he immediately played along, forging rapport with their words.

While their attention was fixed on Silvercoin, Negril, Anthony, and Du Luo quietly conferred.

"The construct flying vehicle has a levitation array underneath and jet nozzles—it should be able to hover and accelerate briefly," Du Luo said.

Anthony, however, noticed the two spherical objects hanging at the front of the vehicle: "What are those two spheres? I feel my heart pounding."

"Your senses are sharp—I didn't sense anything, but if they make you feel that way, they're probably Soul Storm weapons. Be careful—don't let them detonate. At this distance, we don't know if we'll be affected," Du Luo said.

Negril, however, was curious about something else: "You sense bad things? How's that like Shamarah's? Did you steal her skill?"

Anthony snapped back: "Impossible. That's a divine technique. Mine's experience. If you'd spent a thousand years skirting danger like me, you'd develop a sense for it too."

"I've been alone for ten thousand years and never sensed a female dragon? Nonsense," Negril scoffed.

Anthony blinked in surprise: "You've got it backward. To sense female dragons, shouldn't you know more of them? If you met a new one every day for ten thousand years, you'd definitely sense them."

Negril froze. That made perfect sense—even one a year would mean ten thousand female dragons. Where would there be ten thousand dragons? So that's why he'd never developed this sense?

Negril hugged his head, sinking into doubt about his species and himself.

While they murmured among themselves, Silvercoin had nearly finished chatting—he bid the goblins a warm farewell.

Silvercoin returned, and the two goblins drove their construct vehicle around the cemetery, clearly patrolling for any escaped undead.

Silvercoin signaled everyone to leave first. Once they were clear of the cemetery, he shared what he'd learned.

"The things they threw were indeed Soul-Nullifying Eggs—they call them Quiet Spheres. They generate an instant, high-intensity soul shockwave that shatters the souls of all undead."

"They're clearing the cemetery to eliminate undead guards, removing obstacles for the Sorcerer's Ladder's descent."

"They came down to deliver relief. They chose this place because Northwind City is easy to defend—cut the roads, and large undead hordes can't get through."

"They never expected that after trapping the Undead King, surface order would collapse. Several cities have suffered massive famines; half the population has starved. They estimate that without aid, at least two-thirds of surface life will die."

"To prevent this disaster, they've lowered the Sorcerer's Ladder to distribute food for relief."

Anthony nodded as he listened, then said: "This is good—but what exactly is the Sorcerer's Ladder? Six ladders can distribute enough food to feed the whole world?"

Ange suddenly looked up toward the sky.

The sun had already dipped below the horizon; the ground received no light, but high above, due to curvature, sunlight still reached—a massive object slowly descended, illuminated by the glow.

It was a long column topped by a disc, with over a dozen "chains" hanging from the disc's edge, each holding three progressively smaller rings.

From its shape, one might mistake it for an ornamental umbrella—but its central pillar stretched seven hundred meters tall, over sixty meters wide—an utterly irrational colossus.

The colossal object descended slowly, finally landing on the flat ground before the undead cemetery.

Ange had seen larger creations—the Holy Heaven—but Holy Heaven was a modified minor plane, merely hollowed at its center and built over; its core structure remained largely unchanged.

But this colossus was entirely manufactured—from the main pillar to the hanging "chains," every part was built.

Now that they were closer, Ange and the others could see the "chains"—each was a string of chambers, each connected by rope ladders.

Several chambers opened, spilling out construct vehicles identical to the ones the two goblins had driven; each vehicle's underside glowed with levitation arrays, gently lowering them.

Under each construct vehicle hung two Quiet Spheres—the very ones that shattered undead souls.

"This is the Sorcerer's Ladder? Where's the ladder?" Negril exclaimed.

"How isn't it? At least six of these are known—if they all landed on the same spot, one atop another, they'd reach four or five kilometers high. What if there are a hundred? Wouldn't they reach the sky?" Du Luo said.

His tone was odd—excited, irritated, impatient. To an alchemist, such a colossal creation was precisely what would excite him most.

Irritated because others had already built such things. Impatient because he couldn't wait to uncover its secrets.

Anthony shook his head: "Impossible to have a hundred. If they had a hundred, their manufacturing capacity could bombard the entire world with Quiet Spheres—no undead could survive. These six are likely their limit."

He sighed: "Now I understand why, despite His Majesty's power, he couldn't destroy the Starburst Array—and was trapped by their so-called Quiet Sorcerers."

Du Luo nodded: "Negril's concerns were right. I underestimated the Sorcerer's Alliance. Now I see—even the Starburst Array's redirection, let alone these Sorcerer's Ladders, are beyond our ability to handle."

Negril proudly crossed his arms, tail raised.

But no one noticed him—everyone turned to Ange. Anthony asked:

"My lord, what now? We need a final objective—we can't keep playing around. If we only want to farm, we can return to the main plane. We've found a way to resist the Faith Storm—we don't need to destroy the Starburst Array."

Silvercoin and Du Luo also looked at Ange. They had a thousand tactical variations—but only Ange could set the strategic goal. If Ange's goal was merely farming, they had no need to risk confronting the Sorcerer's Alliance.

The safest option was to retreat to the main plane. After all, the Faith Storm couldn't harm them—it fed Ange energy. Then they could grow more Divine Wood Spirit Beans.

The next option was to lie low. The Sorcerer's Alliance came to deliver relief—they wouldn't care who farmed. Just buy land and plant. Maybe they'd even thank them for contributing to food security.

But if Ange's goal was confrontation, they must prepare fully.

Ange didn't hesitate: "Save. King."

Though Ange rarely spoke, he heard every word. He wasn't stupid—he'd noticed the key detail: the King was in trouble.

If the King were fine, he'd be just a vegetable-growing skeleton, indifferent to the King's mood. That's why, after so long in this world, he'd never sought the Undead King.

But now the King was in peril—so as a vegetable-growing skeleton, he had to find a way to rescue him.

Anthony and Silvercoin's eyes lit up; they rubbed their hands eagerly: "This goal is challenging—we need a detailed plan."

Silvercoin rubbed his hands: "Greater risk, greater reward."

"We need intelligence—more on the Sorcerer's Alliance. We ignored them before; now we must gather detailed information," Anthony said.

"I didn't ignore them—but every channel I had yielded almost no news. They operate mostly on the Starburst Array, rarely interacting with surface factions," Silvercoin said.

"Now you have some. Go back quickly. Have Fivow deliver fresh vegetables and sweets under the guise of Weiwen, win them over. Don't show yourself yet." Anthony paused, then added: "Wait—I need to erase some of Fivow's memories of us first."

"You fear they have memory-searching magic or artifacts?" Du Luo asked.

Anthony nodded.

"Why vegetables and sweets?" Silvercoin asked.

Anthony explained: "If they've lived long-term on the Starburst Array, even if they're self-sufficient in food, they must lack vegetables and sweets. The surface can grow flowers, keep bees, cultivate sugar beets—does the Starburst Array have that much space?"

He paused, his expression grim: "If they don't lack vegetables and sweets, the problem is worse—either they have unlimited planting space, or they're extracting massive resources from the surface."

Silvercoin nodded in realization—it could serve as a test.

Ange's group returned to Northwind City. Anthony restrained Fivow and whispered into his ear.

Anthony could erase a period of memory—but during that time, Fivow would remember nothing. He couldn't selectively erase only certain memories while preserving others.

For example, he could make Fivow forget these people—but he couldn't make Fivow remember them as living while forgetting they were undead.

Anthony had treated Luo Ge's depression not by erasing memories, but by using emotional disruption.

For instance, Luo Ge thought: "The wind in September is… stupid."

Or Luo Ge's mind surfaced: "The night gave me a black soul, yet I used it to sense… stupid."

Luo Ge would never be depressed again.

But Fivow couldn't be treated this way—the Sorcerer's Alliance would question him in detail about recent events.

Like how he took control of the city, maintained order, secured food—if he couldn't recall anything, they'd know something was wrong.

So he fabricated memories: Du Luo's wife just gave birth, Silvercoin just married, Ange eats ten sugar beets daily—all things only a living person would do.

Whenever Fivow thought of Ange's anomalies, they clashed violently with the implanted memories, making him doubt: Did I misremember?

Ange fully reanimated Fivow from head to toe, including his heart and blood, then slapped a "Rebirth" spell onto his chest.

His heart restarted, pumping blood through his body.

Though everyone appeared alive, their blood didn't flow—that was their biggest flaw. Now Ange had sealed it.

Then he pulled out a nutrient solution, cut an opening in a vein, and injected it directly.

Now the blood flowing through him was nutrient solution saturated with Holy Light. Even if someone used special detection, they'd see only a heart brimming with Holy Light—immediately ruling Fivow out as undead.

How could an undead have holy blood? Impossible. How could an undead even have blood? So this couldn't be undead.

Worst case: the Sorcerer's Alliance mistakes Fivow for a member of the Church of Light. They didn't yet know their relationship with the Church—but it would surely be better than with undead.

Fivow, with his modified memories, led a group pushing carts of fresh vegetables and beet juice, carrying bright torches, toward the Sorcerer's Ladder before the cemetery.

They busied themselves. Ange took Negril and the others away from Northwind City, entering the mountains.

The desert-facing side of the Northwind Mountains was barren, rain-starved, lifeless—bare hills. But the other side was lush, dense forest.

Arriving at the forest side, Ange placed the sapling on his head and waved toward the trees: "Hulalalala…"

The little angel zombie tilted its head, mimicking: "Aoaaoaoa…"

The sapling copied too: Hu—hu—lalalala—

Negril stared, baffled: "What are you doing? You don't even urinate—why are you hulalalala-ing?"

Ange ignored it, kept waving. After ten minutes, a treant emerged from the forest, twisting through, and every tree in its path parted to give it a wide path.