Chapter 975

“Have you never encountered it? That kind of array carried on the back, charged for a long time, then fires a blast that flashes like a star before slamming into the plane and unleashing a faith storm capable of erasing all deities of that plane.”

“Of course, erasing all deities of a plane is exaggerated, but any deity within a certain range won’t escape—they call it the Star Burst Array.” Here, Anthony slapped his thigh: “I forgot—you’re not a deity, so the faith storm shouldn’t affect you.”

“One of our own got wiped out by a faith storm—you’ve got several similar statues among your captives, give me one to study.”

If there had been only one, the Grand Councilor certainly wouldn’t have given it, but when Anthony pointed out which one, the Grand Councilor discovered there were four such statues, so he readily gave one to Anthony and warned him:

“Hurry up and spread your faith—how many deities do you still retain? Go to all of them; here are my seal and edict.” The Grand Councilor shoved a bundle of seals, scrolls, and banners into his hands.

Anthony took the chance to extort another crate of Chaos Mist, making the Grand Councilor furious—he kicked them onto the airship and ordered Britt to “see them off.”

Britt possessed a flash-movement skill similar to Feti; his “seeing them off” meant shoving the airship at breakneck speed through the void, nearly shaking it apart.

Only after Britt left did the airship reach its maximum speed, turning what should have been a slow vessel into one racing through the void no slower than a White Dragon.

Only after Britt departed did Negril scratch his head in confusion: “What happened? Why did he suddenly order us to spread faith? We never asked for this—why is he so generous, giving us believers across dozens of planes?”

Anthony smiled: “Maybe he’s building trust—since the Light Disaster was resolved by the familiar ‘Lord of Life,’ not by us, these unfamiliar refugee deities.”

Negril frowned: “What do you mean?”

Anthony explained: “You know the Old Tree—do you think it’s a threat?”

“A threat? Pfft—it’s so dumb it almost got eaten by bugs,” Negril scoffed.

“The Light Disaster was resolved by the Lord of Life, so it wasn’t us who triggered it…”

“He still suspects we caused the Light Disaster? How would we even trigger it? If we had that power, we’d have been collecting protection fees from them long ago,” Negril exclaimed.

Anthony turned to Ang: “My Lord, can you create a Light Disaster—or something similar to a solar catastrophe?”

Ang was fiddling with the Chaos Mist. One crate wasn’t much—at least not to Ang, who had once devoured all the Chaos Mist from the entire Chaos Plane; this amount was like scooping a single ladle from the ocean, too little for any major action.

He absorbed the first crate to strengthen his soul, but felt no change. He had no intention of absorbing this newly extorted crate; instead, he held it in his hand, occasionally manifesting small objects.

After fiddling awhile, Ang brought out a dish, mixed some saltwater, then flicked a bit of Chaos Mist into it. It slowly sprouted, growing into a blade of grass.

There it was—Ang had found the most valuable use for this Chaos Mist: manifesting it as seeds.

In this world, Ang had never had time to cultivate high-yield crops, because there were no grain-festival competitions to drive progress, and the Druids here weren’t particularly eager to boost yields, so Ang had to start from scratch—which took too much time.

Of course, Ang didn’t mind spending time—he just never settled down, never had the time. Before Little Phantom arrived, he lacked sufficient divine power to use the Instant Death Aura, so he’d achieved nothing.

Now, with Chaos Mist, he could simply manifest the high-yield seeds from the Chaos Plane directly—no need to cultivate from scratch.

As long as he could manifest one seed, Ang could restore an entire species in this world.

The one he restored now was naturally the saltwater magic rice he knew best—but somehow, he’d messed up a detail: the seed only grew grass, no ears. No matter—he could keep testing.

Ang was enthusiastically tinkering when he heard Anthony’s question. He tilted his head, thought for a moment, then nodded.

Negril sucked in a breath: “You really can create a Light Disaster? How?”

Ang said: “Find something. Throw it in.”

“What kind of thing?” Negril asked.

Ang shook his head: “Don’t know. Try.”

“You mean you don’t even know what to throw into the sun to trigger a Light Disaster—you have to test it? So was the last Light Disaster caused by someone throwing something in?” Negril asked.

“Don’t know.” Ang shook his head and went back to fiddling with the seeds.

Anthony spread his hands: “The Grand Councilor doesn’t know either, so he suspects us. Don’t you think he’s some brainless necromancer? The way he speaks of the Lord of Life—he might be older than the Lord of Life himself. At least a ten-thousand-year-old monster.”

Negril scratched his head awkwardly—he really had thought that. The Grand Councilor had always acted like he trusted everyone completely.

“By eliminating the Lord of Life, he probably thinks we’re no threat, so he encourages us to spread faith. If our faith spreads, we’ll occupy the spiritual niche of the Eidolons—so when the Eidolon Legion comes, they’ll have to eliminate us first before they can seize the collective will.”

Negril suddenly understood: “I get it—he’s using us to occupy the slots. Once all the slots are taken, no one else can shit in them. But is it necessary? With him watching, can the Eidolon Legion even get through?”

“They don’t need to break through. The Light Alliance is huge—penetration is too easy. My old Eastern Diocese was tightly controlled, wasn’t it? Still got riddled through and through by the Insect God, the Evil God, the God of Knowledge, the Cat God, and others.”

Negril rolled his eyes: “What’s that got to do with me? Then why isn’t he afraid we’ll grow strong and threaten him?”

Anthony smiled: “Didn’t you catch the emphasis? He told ‘us’ to spread faith.”

Anthony gestured to everyone: “The Radiant Lord, the God of Commerce, the God of Knowledge, the God of Gale Winds, the Beauty God, the God of Cultivation—all of us. If believers concentrate on any single deity, he’ll have to step in and fix it. Someone’s definitely watching us.”

“...What if one day he realizes all divine names have merged into one supreme being? He’ll regret today’s decision,” Negril didn’t know what else to say.

“Besides, didn’t he disappear for hundreds of years before? Probably not the first or second time—if he vanishes again and returns to find the entire Light Alliance occupied by Eidolons, what then? With us here…”

At that moment, several red dots suddenly flashed ahead in the void—but the airship was moving too fast, and it quickly passed them, leaving the red dots behind.

Negril blinked in surprise: “Did something just fly past?”

Silvercoin, who had been piloting the airship, replied: “Yes, looks like a checkpoint. I saw it flashing lights—‘flash—pause—flash pause flash flash flash flash’—what does that mean?”

Negril translated: “‘Stop and be inspected. Ramming = lethal force.’ Wait—did we just ram the checkpoint?”

Silvercoin adjusted slightly, hesitating: “Looks like it. Lights just lit up behind us—they’re chasing us.”

“Uh, what do we do? We didn’t mean to—should we stop and show them the Grand Councilor’s seal? Shouldn’t that work?”

“Seems like we’ve already shaken them…” Silvercoin hadn’t finished when a row of red dots flared ahead, along with several white points radiating powerful energy signatures.