Chapter 73

Fertilizer?! Ang reacted, turning to Nagelis.

“Yes, volcanic ash, fertilizer, and volcanic rock—porous and loose, with excellent water permeability. Mixed into the soil, it doesn’t compact easily,” Nagelis said.

Ang hated compacted soil most of all; the loss of fertility was manageable—a plot’s fertility could still support three or five crop cycles—but compacted soil was hard to fix unless you plowed deep and turned the lower soil up to the surface.

In the Palace of Rest, Ang would do exactly that, since it was only three thousand mu of land, and over a thousand years, crop rotation had been repeated countless times.

But on the wasteland, with so much land, Ang had no intention of exerting himself to plow before all of it compacted.

“Devil’s Valley,” Ang pointed to a direction and said to Lei Ting.

……

Devil’s Valley was the farthest settlement from the World Transit Station, with a sizable population of several thousand, though most of the inhabitants back then weren’t counted as ‘people’—only as livestock.

Back then, this was the site of the Rebirth Altar—the River of the Dead—presided over by succubi and managed by demons, which likely explains why it became Devil’s Valley.

Why would a Rebirth Altar for undead creatures be presided over by succubi? That’s a long story. Primarily, a necromancer, in life, kept a succubus as a pet; after death, she remained devoted to him.

To give her something to do and distract her from constantly pestering him to bear his children, he used all his lifetime’s knowledge to invent the Rebirth Altar best suited for the succubus to put her remaining talents to use.

Because succubi possessed powerful mental enchantments, they were especially suited to preside over the Rebirth Altar, and thus it became tradition: from then on, all Rebirth Altars were presided over by succubi.

Of course, necromancers could preside too, with similarly high success rates—but who cared? The succubus was the inventor’s designated choice.

At first, this Rebirth Altar could only transform living humans into liches and undead; later, the inventor thought necromancers were boring, so he tweaked the Rebirth Altar, transforming himself into a Black Knight—the first ever artificial undead being: Black Knight Emperor Piero.

Talent is just that capricious.

When the World Transit Station shut down and the Wind of Rest blew, the Rebirth Altar slowly deteriorated and fell into ruin, until finally the cave housing it was sealed shut.

Without the Rebirth Altar and without the World Transit Station, succubi lost their value and eventually became slaves; stronger combat demons—lava demons, fire demons—took control of Devil’s Valley and turned all other species into slaves.

Thanks to its ideal terrain, Devil’s Valley could grow two crops a year, yielding abundant grain—not just enough to feed the slaves, but surplus for export.

Hingbing City had the largest population, seventy to eighty thousand people, sufficient to maintain the human gene pool without degeneration; the creatures of Lich City primarily intermarried with Hingbing City.

Devil’s Valley was a more isolated circle; after centuries of breeding, the demon leaders noticed an increasing rate of congenital disabilities and intellectual deficiencies among newborn slaves, forcing them to take measures to salvage the situation.

When Ang’s group arrived, Devil’s Valley was in chaos; fires had already broken out in some areas, but no one was trying to put them out—perhaps because they weren’t afraid of burning; most slaves were too poor to have anything flammable.

Everyone gathered together, arguing, shouting, and eventually fighting—over what to do next.

The three leaders had died, yet Devil’s Valley hadn’t collapsed; it continued operating on inertia, because for any stable force, the leader is the least useful—whether present or absent makes little difference; only expansionist forces truly need strong leaders.

But no force can lack mid-level cadres, or it will immediately fall into chaos. Yesterday, all the demons were slaughtered by angels, wiping out Devil’s Valley’s entire mid-level management.

Humans, who had been slaves for a thousand years, had zero management capability—chaos was unavoidable.

Someone proposed staying in Devil’s Valley: there was water, fields, grain—just farm as before, live as before.

Someone proposed joining Hingbing City: that was the human world, where they could gain dignity—did they want to return to being slaves?

Someone proposed going to Lich City: Lich City practiced racial equality; no one cared about their slave past, wouldn’t look down on them for being stupid—at least not more than minotaurs.

No one could convince anyone else; those wanting to stay didn’t want too many to leave—too many departures meant no one could tend the terraces; those terraces built on the great rift were dangerous with fewer hands.

Those wanting to leave thought the terraces were too dangerous; continuing to farm meant forcing them to die. Now there were no slave masters, no noble emperors—no one could oppress anyone else.

“Who’s oppressing whom? Who’s a slave master? Say that again and see what happens.”

“Fine, I’ll say it again—you want to be a slave master, you want to oppress people, you’re just… Oof!”

They brawled in a chaotic tangle, but no one died—most slaves were farmers, and even fighting was unprofessional.

When Ang arrived, he saw this chaos.

Before arriving, Nagelis had worried whether there might be danger—if Hingbing City had a few siege crossbows, they’d have to avoid it.

Now he saw—what was this? A marketplace?

He simply didn’t bother hiding or avoiding—drove the beasts straight into the valley. Wherever they passed, everyone stood frozen, silent: This… is way too crowded…

Never mind overloading—the lineup was still intimidating. As Ang rode through, he’d healed the angelic skeleton’s wings, making it even more fearsome.

A bone frame with angelic wings—especially after yesterday’s angel had slaughtered every demon in the valley—couldn’t help but make witnesses jump to conclusions.

“That winged guy was killed by them? And turned into a skeleton?”

“Who are they? So powerful! Most impressive is that horse!”

“Is that a dragon? A wise Bronze Dragon? So small—smaller than a demon cocoon—was it born premature?”

As everyone secretly speculated, Nagelis suddenly rose into the air and bellowed: “Who knows where the Rebirth Altar is!”

Instantly, all the former slaves, who’d already terrified themselves with their own thoughts, dropped to their knees.

“Uh… I was just asking for directions. No need to bow so deeply,” Nagelis muttered, startled.

How could he have guessed that Ang’s arrival, with their intimidating lineup, had shattered Devil’s Valley’s fragile balance—these lost, directionless slaves now felt they’d found their anchor, and began acting on old instinct.

“Bronze Dragon Lord, I’ve heard a little legend about the Altar—please follow me.”