Chapter 60

Philin floated toward Ang’s sinkhole, carrying a small bucket brimming with Death Essence Liquid, delighted—he had spent three nights using magic to accelerate the Breath of Rest, forcibly gathering this much Death Essence Liquid, ten times more than what he’d produced at the camp that day.

Of course, he was exhausted—spending entire nights just accelerating the Breath of Rest, even with more Unending Spring Stones from Lord Ang, it was never easy to produce this much.

With ample Death Essence Liquid, Philin quickly discovered several of its effects: repairing and filling bones, toughening zombie flesh and skin, accelerating soul growth, catalyzing Loam of Rest—essentially an enhanced version of the Breath of Rest, but with stronger effects and lower harm.

The Breath of Rest affects the soul, but Death Essence Liquid does not—as long as you don’t submerge your soul in it, even bathing in it is perfectly safe.

Inside the sinkhole, he saw the Angel Skeleton, the Little Zombie, and Huang Tong the Bronze Dragon all soaking in a giant leather tub.

“What are you doing? Afraid of rotting?” Philin could accept the Angel Skeleton bathing, but the Little Zombie and Huang Tong were both Necromancers—soaking in water would rot them.

Nagelis’s long neck drooped over the tub’s rim; he lifted his eyelid slightly, raised a tiny claw, and Death Essence Liquid dripped from between his toes.

Philin’s eyes widened; he rushed to the tub’s edge and peered inside, exclaiming: “You’re really bathing in it? Where did you get so much Death Essence Liquid?”

Nagelis didn’t look up, merely pointed a claw toward the top of the sinkhole and asked lazily: “What are you here for? Got something to report?”

Philin pulled his wooden bucket back slightly, too embarrassed to show it: “I came to check on Lord Ang, and to report some developments—I’ll go find him now.”

Nagelis waved his tiny claw, so comfortable he couldn’t even be bothered to reply.

Is it really that comfortable? Philin glanced at the small bucket in his hand, wondering whether he should go back and soak in it too—but at his speed, accumulating enough for a bath wouldn’t be easy.

At the rim of the sinkhole, Philin saw Ang digging soil—the Watcher was swinging a hoe like an experienced old farmer, carving out a pit, piling the excavated earth on both sides into a raised mud dike.

“Lord, may your soul find peace—what are you doing?” Philin greeted.

Ang tilted his head, unsure how to answer, so he simply didn’t answer, continuing to dig.

Philin was used to Ang’s reactions and paid no mind—he walked over to the earth pile, took one look, and was stunned, slipping and falling down.

The ground had been dug into a massive fan-shaped depression: the arc’s edge aligned flush with the surface, then deepened and narrowed gradually until, at the center angle, it was half a person’s depth; the excavated soil had been piled along both sides, raising the edges to a height of one person.

The arc’s edge faced the direction from which the Breath of Rest blew; at the center angle, a pile of Unending Spring Stones had been stacked—this arrangement immediately revealed its purpose.

The Breath of Rest entered through the arc’s edge, was funneled inward by the raised sides, and converged at the center angle, creating a much greater wind volume.

“Why didn’t I think of this? Why didn’t I think of this? Such a simple solution—and I spent three nights casting magic like an idiot!” Philin was both ashamed and furious; he resolved not to leave—whether he could sneak into the Death Essence Liquid bath now depended entirely on how thick his skin was.

Night fell; the Breath of Rest rose. Hidden in a leeward cave, Philin watched the wind howl fiercely, Unending Spring Stones dripping Death Essence Liquid drop by drop, eventually forming a small stream that flowed into Ang’s pit.

The efficiency was astonishing—in less than twenty minutes, one bucket filled; Ang immediately transferred it into the Palace of Rest, watching it rapidly dissipate.

All night long, Ang repeated this: fill one bucket, transfer it, ensuring the bucket was always empty.

For over ten hours straight, he transferred nearly thirty buckets—roughly one cubic meter of Death Essence Liquid.

The Palace of Rest seemed to have changed, but no visible alteration could be seen.

Ang didn’t care; he continued nightly, for eight nights straight, transferring nearly nine cubic meters of Death Essence Liquid into the Palace of Rest.

Starting from the third day, Ang sensed a change—the dissipation rate of Death Essence Liquid slowed; what once took three minutes to vanish now took three and a half minutes, then ten minutes on the fourth day.

On the eighth day, one bucket took over an hour to fully dissipate—matching the dissipation rate outside; the Little Zombie and others soaked for an hour, and the Death Essence Liquid nearly vanished—suggesting the concentration of death energy within the Palace of Rest had reached saturation again.

Then, a massive flame erupted in the main hall of the Palace of Rest; a beam of light shot skyward, arced through the air, and slammed into Ang’s consciousness with lightning speed.

In an instant, Ang’s physical body outside ignited with pitch-black flames.

Nagelis, sensing the anomaly, scrambled back his consciousness, sending his physical form—the Bronze Book—flying to Ang’s side, urgently asking: “What happened? Are you alright? What’s going on?”

Ang pointed toward the main hall of the Palace of Rest.

Nagelis finally noticed the flame on the main hall: “Huh? Soulfire? The Main Flame of Soulfire has ignited? That’s it?”

The Soulfire ignited in the Necropolis of the Undercity is the origin of Undying Faith—people worship it, and their devout beliefs keep it burning fiercely.

But no matter how much Soulfire exists, its ultimate source is only one: this Main Flame—the origin of all Soulfire, and the final source of the faith in “Undying.”

Yet even if the Necropolis’s Soulfire is lit, whether the Main Flame exists or not doesn’t matter—as long as faith is sufficient, ordinary Soulfire can become the Main Flame.

“Only the Main Flame of Soulfire?” Nagelis asked.

If that was all, Nagelis would be disappointed—he’d seen Ang’s entire body engulfed in black flames, with a huge commotion.

“And the beam of light—here,” Ang pointed at the Main Flame of Soulfire, then at himself.

After hearing Ang’s description, the Bronze Book snapped shut, envious: “That’s a Divine Core. Fine, you’re no longer a pseudo-god—you now have a Divine Core. Typically, after obtaining a Divine Core, one awakens a Divine Art aligned with their faith. What’s your Divine Art? Some kind of ‘Idiot’s Luck’ aura?”