Chapter 79: Not Afraid of the Breath of Oblivion

The World Tree, Yé, as the child of lightning and a favorite of the forest, the unicorn certainly knew: if it could eat one, it would become the first unicorn in history to consume the World Tree—just thinking about it made it glorious; it could even change its name to—Lightning, Devourer of the World Tree.

“Are you insane!” Nagelis leapt up and kicked its knee: “This is a sacred relic of the elves, their god—the entire elven race was nurtured, grown, and reproduced under its protection. The vast, mighty elven empire—and you dare eat its seedling? The elves will go mad and exterminate your unicorn…”

Before he finished speaking, they saw Ang pluck off a sprout and casually hold it to Lightning’s mouth.

Lightning shot Nagelis a sideways glare, stuck out its long tongue, and slowly curled the seedling into its mouth, chewing with exaggerated motions, its expression defiant.

Nagelis flew into a rage, lashing out with its tail—but Lightning skillfully ducked its head, then raised an eyebrow in further provocation.

But Lightning’s triumph didn’t last long; suddenly its whole face wrinkled up, as if it had swallowed a ton of limes, tears streaming from its eyes.

“Quick, quick, spit it out—is it poisonous?” Nagelis panicked; though furious, it didn’t want Lightning poisoned.

Lightning didn’t spit it out; instead, it swallowed it whole, then panted with its tongue out: “So… huff… so… so powerful a life force, huff…”

“Life force? You can taste life force? What does it taste like?” Nagelis gasped.

Lightning gave it a look of “you’ve never seen anything like this before”: “I’m a unicorn—I can taste the flavor of lightning too. Slightly sour, slightly numb.”

Shuowan ， Shandianpaodaoangeshenbian ， Weizhezuo 『 Xiaomatiao 』， Taohaodeshuodao ：「 Angedaren ， Laoban ， Geiwoyidianchideba ， Wobuxianglangfeizhexieshengmingli 。」

[11] After speaking, Lightning ran to Ang’s side, hopping around like a little pony, pleading: “Lord Ang, Boss, give me something to eat—I don’t want to waste this life force.”

Ang tilted his head curiously and spilled out a pile of grain and beets.

Lightning buried its head and crunched loudly.

Ang carefully observed Lightning and noticed real changes: its life force had become far more vibrant; as it ate, the aura slowly strengthened.

Strange change. Ang wanted to try too, reaching out to pluck a World Tree sprout—but Nagelis, already on guard, grabbed him: “You’re not alive. Wake up—you can’t eat it.”

After much persuasion, Ang abandoned his plan to give everyone a sprout and eat them all.

“You’d be better off raising it. It’s still a seedling—only when it grows large can it be called the World Tree,” Nagelis said.

“Can you eat it?” Ang tilted his head.

Nagelis went berserk: “Of course you can eat it—its fruit is delicious! But why do you even care if it’s edible? You don’t eat anything!”

Ang tilted his head, confused: If something can’t be eaten, why plant it?

“Uh, there are many cash crops—cotton, hemp, lacquer, oil, bamboo—all can be grown, with enormous economic value. Clothes need cotton and hemp to weave; legumes yield oil; tung and palm trees produce lacquer; bamboo? Even more so—it’s an accelerator of civilization.”

After Nagelis’s explanation, the former vegetable-growing skeleton learned for the first time that many things are grown not for eating.

Ang nodded, understanding: “Plant for food.”

Nagelis slammed its head into the ground—so all that talk was for nothing.

Since the World Tree can be eaten, keep planting. Ang had mastered the sprouting technique—he’d go back and sprout all the remaining seeds.

But first, Ang had to determine the ideal growing environment for the World Tree, because the sprouted seedlings consumed little soil fertility—meaning, rich soil wasn’t the key to sprouting or growth.

Transplanting: Ang dug up the sprouted seedlings, moved one to the edge of the valley where the Breath of Oblivion blew, watered it thoroughly, accelerated its growth briefly with his aura, let it acclimate, then surrounded it with soil so the Breath of Oblivion could touch the sprout’s top but not its roots.

One seedling each was transplanted into all the differently fertilized soils—including the barren volcanic scree.

Finally, three were planted in essence liquid, ordinary water, and purified holy water.

The next morning, the seedling left in the original sprouting spot died; the one on volcanic scree died; the three in liquids died; the rest in different fertilized soils survived, but were limp and weak—except the one transplanted into the vegetable patch, which showed no change.

The most astonishing: the seedling outside the valley hadn’t died from the Breath of Oblivion—it was merely limp and weak.

After examining all the transplanted seedlings, Nagelis had a splitting headache: “What does this mean? The sprouting-site seedlings died? That place could sprout them, but can’t grow them? What logic is this?”

Ang said: “Aura—sprout. No aura—die.”

“So you mean the sprouting site works only because of the aura? Without aura, it’s unsuitable for World Tree growth?” Nagelis asked.

Confirming Ang meant exactly that, Nagelis exclaimed: “Then keep using the aura—grow it straight into a tree!”

“No soul flame left,” Ang said.

Previously, soul flame never ran out; now, it’s insufficient—the Rapid Death Aura is a massive consumer.

Now even Nagelis was helpless. The Abyss had so few people—even if it wanted to grow followers, there was nowhere to grow them. Otherwise, with hundreds of millions of followers, wouldn’t soul flame be plentiful?

Wait—no, there was still one group not yet turned into followers. Nagelis turned its head toward the valley, where an old man had been peeking nervously, too afraid to approach but unwilling to leave.

These former demon slaves hadn’t all lost their faith.

“Kid, come here,” Nagelis called the old human over, ordering him to gather all the humans in the valley.

Slowly, sluggishly, nearly an hour passed before everyone trickled over, huddling nervously before Nagelis—fearful, yet curious. Even among seasoned travelers, few had seen a bronze dragon, let alone this “premature” bronze dragon no bigger than a dragon egg.

Nagelis, confident, flew forward with a sack of grain, tore open the mouth, revealing the contents, and shouted: “Do you believe in Undeath!”

Nagelis finished speaking, expecting a surge of soul flame—just like when Ang tossed a sack of grain before the bull-woman, who’d wept and begged to believe in Undeath.

But the humans’ reaction stunned Nagelis: they whispered among themselves, then slowly knelt and bowed to Nagelis, then turned and walked away—clearly not about to believe in Undeath.

Soon after leaving, the humans returned, each carrying a sack of grain, dumping them at Nagelis’s feet, then bowing again.

It took Nagelis a long while to understand—then it roared: “I asked if you believe in Undeath! Believe in Undeath, get grain—not to pay grain taxes!!!”

The slaves were used to surrendering 80% of their harvest. After the demons died, no one collected grain. Nagelis pulled out a sack and asked if they believed in Undeath—they naturally assumed it was a tax demand, so they rushed home to bring extra grain.

After generations as slaves, who had ever been given anything? No matter what was said, they didn’t believe.

Nagelis was furious: Ang had used this exact trick before—why did it work so well for him?

“Ah! Ah! Aaaaah!” The crowd suddenly erupted—they all turned toward the valley and surged over.

On the valley’s slope, Ang had stepped down—patches of land turned into beet fields instantly burst into thick green, like a divine miracle.

As a vegetable-growing skeleton, farming was his main job; cultivating World Tree seedlings was secondary. The nearby slopes had long been sown with beet seeds; under the Rapid Death Aura, the seeds sprouted and grew leaves before their eyes, completing the entire growth process.

The slaves had never seen such magic—they screamed, fell to their knees, bowing, eyes blazing with fanaticism and disbelief.

Ang was startled by the commotion, turned—and froze: a tidal wave of soul flame surged toward him, even fiercer than in the underground city. He dared not absorb it—channeled it all into the Interdimensional Hand.

Watching soul flame continuously pour into his left hand, watching the humans bowing reverently in the distance, Ang tilted his head, then uprooted the mature beets and tossed them toward the crowd.

Equal exchange: they offered so much soul flame—so give them all the beets. Ang thought.

“This… this is the Lord’s gift to us? What is this?” People stared, eyes wide, murmuring in disbelief.

Former slaves who barely had enough to eat had never seen beets before—fumbling, they picked them up, utterly lost.

A child couldn’t resist the fresh scent of the leaves, bit into one—and scrunched up its face; human taste buds couldn’t handle raw leaves.

Someone gathered courage, bit into the root—juice burst into their mouth, triggering a soul-shaking shock: “So delicious! There’s food this good in the world?! So delicious!!”

The pioneer’s praise spurred others; seeing Ang wasn’t angry, they boldly bit into their beets—the sweetness instantly conquered every palate, triggering dopamine surges, intense pleasure and happiness.

Many, eating, began to weep quietly.

“Thank you, Lord, for the gift of food.” Gratitude and worship came partly from the food—but mostly from the act of “giving.” In their long slavery, no one had ever given them anything.

Another tidal wave of soul flame surged.

Ang scratched his skull, hesitating—should he uproot the World Tree seedlings and toss them too? Otherwise, it wouldn’t be “equal exchange.”

“What are you doing? You said you had no soul flame—why are you using soul flame to grow vegetables?” Nagelis flew over, furious.

Ang pointed at the World Tree seedlings: “They don’t consume nutrients. Plants grow—they grow.”

Nagelis looked at the seedlings in shock: the tiny sprouts had shot up, sprouting two small leaves.

“Plants grow, and it grows? You were testing this? No wonder World Trees grow only in dense forests—damn it! If elves cleared all other plants to prevent competition for nutrients, they’d never grow a World Tree at all!” Nagelis realized in shock.

Ang tilted his head, then said something that terrified Nagelis: “They aren’t afraid of the Breath of Oblivion. Can plant them outside.”

PS: Two updates, three chapters—written and posted as I go, no saved drafts, honest and hardworking