Chapter 46

Can’t I grow vegetables? Ang tilted his head; the farm had three thousand mu of farmland. Before, he couldn’t return, but now his hand could reach in—why waste it?

Ignoring Negrilis, Ang continued happily planting his vegetables. During this time, people kept interrupting him; there were simply too many injured, and even the entire underground city couldn’t keep up.

The best healer was Lisa, former Holy Maiden of Light—her healing ability outclassed other mages by miles. But previously, she couldn’t use Holy Light magic, because as a lich, the Holy Light would melt her first.

Until Ang appeared. Ang’s will carried no additional damage against undead, so Holy Light cast using Ang’s power inflicted no harm upon herself.

Yet she could only cast Level One Holy Light spells. She imagined many reasons—her faith wasn’t devout enough, or Ang was testing or restricting her—but never considered it was simply because Ang himself could only cast Level One spells.

But even Level One spells exhausted her. There were too many wounded; most weren’t slashed or pierced—they were bruises, sprains, scrapes. Most had bloody feet from running.

These injuries were troublesome: non-lethal, but they impaired mobility and easily worsened. In places lacking medicine, they could deteriorate into amputations or death. Prompt treatment was ideal.

Ang accepted everyone. After all, he watered for days on end without stopping. His other hand planted vegetables; this monotonous, repetitive healing actually suited him—like listening to music while running, no interference.

In this state of divided attention, Anna and Lisa carried over a patient whose body was completely rigid.

The patient was a middle-aged man, stiff as if frozen, yet his skin had turned bluish, with the texture of zombie skin hardened.

His eyes stared straight ahead, with only a faint glimmer deep within.

Everyone who saw him shook their heads with sorrow or pity. This was Wind Rigidity—long exposure to the Wind of Rest had petrified his body. He was dead, and would die painfully.

For before death, his consciousness remained fully aware. He would silently feel his body stiffen, his organs rot and stink, for nearly half a month, until he starved to death.

Thus, those afflicted with Wind Rigidity usually begged for a quick death.

Lisa brought him over because she’d made a new discovery, and secondly, because this patient’s identity mattered deeply to Anna—he was Cui Fu, steward of the Lofen family, who had raised Anna and her brother since childhood. Officially a servant, emotionally he was family.

When Anna first found him, she nearly wept herself to death.

As Lisa laid Cui Fu before Ang, she hurriedly said: “My lord, I’ve made a new discovery—Purification Shu has a slight effect on Wind Rigidity patients, but my power is too weak… uh… this… this is enough?”

As Ang placed the patient down, he was still automatically casting Purification Shu . Before Lisa finished speaking, Ang had already slammed three enhanced Purification Shu spells onto the patient. The dark bruising vanished rapidly; his skin regained its elasticity. So fast that Lisa hadn’t even finished her sentence.

Ang, however, noticing Lisa’s half-spoken words, curiously asked: “What’s enough?”

“N-nothing. It’s fine.” Lisa, flustered, moved Cui Fu aside and checked him carefully—Wind Rigidity had vanished completely. Cui Fu’s body had returned to normal; his fingers and toes could still move, though he was too weak to stand.

“This… this is enough? This is enough?” Lisa murmured to herself, looking as if she doubted reality. Wind Rigidity was the most common injury in this world—hundreds died or lost limbs each year, more than those who starved. Everyone was helpless against it.

People had grown accustomed to it. After all, even undead couldn’t survive the Wind of Rest. But Lisa, using Ang’s power, discovered Purification Shu had a slight effect—so she came to Ang, hoping for a miracle.

Who could have imagined—he healed him before she even finished speaking. The feeling was like walking into a tavern for a full-body massage, and finishing before you even took off your clothes.

After a long moment of bewilderment, Lisa suddenly realized: This was perfectly normal.

“Of course! Isn’t this normal? My Lord Ang, healing a Wind Rigidity victim should be ordinary, shouldn’t it? Not healing him would be abnormal. My Lord merely projected himself onto a skeleton, bound by the shell—not because he couldn’t do it. My Lord is omnipotent. My Lord is unfathomable.”

Lisa murmured to herself, her eyes growing brighter, more resolute. Suddenly, Ang’s soul trembled—some point within his soul network swelled. He couldn’t help but look up, and saw holy flames burning on Lisa’s body.

Lisa’s anomaly drew everyone’s attention, including Negrilis, who had just flung a naked child off his back, tilting his neck upward—and immediately cursed:

“Soul Warrior? Fuck me, are you made from the skeleton of the Goddess of Luck? First a zealot, now a Soul Warrior—why can’t I ever get one?”

Ang stopped what he was doing, ran over to Negrilis, and pointed at Lisa: “She… soul… got bigger.”

Ang didn’t know what had happened—he came to ask. But to Negrilis, this sounded like blatant boasting.

“Get lost, get lost! A Soul Warrior? Big deal. The Church of Light has dozens. Dozens of Holy Maidens, too. Yeah, it’s definitely talent. Lisa had talent to become Holy Maiden—becoming a Soul Warrior isn’t surprising. Yeah, it’s talent. She’s just lucky. Not you.”

He’d barely finished yelling at Ang when the angelic skeleton lunged and plopped onto his back. The zombie child charged in and punched him in the cheek.

Clip-clop, a bone horse galloped over. Ang looked closer—it was one he knew: Eske’s bone horse. It raced to Lisa’s side and sent a soul message—it had come to deliver a letter.

Soul messages could only be transmitted among undead. Lisa instantly said: “The enemy is coming.”

…

Across an endless wasteland, ten Holy Knights galloped, kicking up clouds of dust.

The lead Holy Knight in the red cloak muttered curses: “Damn LeoNard—he lied to us. What the hell heresy is here? Just a bunch of miserable souls struggling to survive.”

“Wasn’t it said there’s a Lich City? A city ruled by liches—that should be the heretics’ stronghold, right?” asked the handsome Holy Knight behind him.

The red-cloak knight exploded: “Are you stupid or am I stupid? After Ice City fell, all those humans fled straight to the liches’ underground city. Do you think humans would run to evil liches? Even if there are liches, they’re good—”

“My Lord!” the handsome Holy Knight cut him off sharply.

Ma De’s words died in his throat. He seethed, then swallowed his anger. He knew the handsome knight meant well—could he really say “good liches” aloud?

Even though all behind him were loyal brothers who’d never betray him, if he slipped up today, he might slip up elsewhere tomorrow—and the consequences would be severe.

Furious, Ma De rode hard, his rage pent up—until he saw ahead a group blocking their path, including a skeleton. His anger found an outlet—he drew his sword and slashed forward: “Destroy the heretics! Kill!”

The entire squad accelerated into a charge. Holy light flared, linking them into one radiant whole. The power surging between them would unleash a Holy Charge capable of blasting open city gates.

But before they could unleash their power, the skeleton dragged an angel forward.