Chapter 979: So You Don

Ang walked around and saw Old John being kicked out of a crude hut by a plump young woman, who chased after him, kicked him again, and shouted, “Get out, get out, get out!” with fierce hostility.

Old John stumbled away, then turned back to shout, “I was trying to get you a good deal! Ungrateful fool—you won’t even take a sack of grain? Starve then!”

The young woman snatched up a stone from the ground, raising it as if to throw—Old John fled in a zigzag panic.

She dropped the stone and spat, “Damn you, old widower! You think I don’t know what you’re after? You’re not even worthy! Come back again and I’ll smash your head!”

As she spoke, she glanced around and soon spotted Ang in the distance. Seeing his attire from afar, she immediately rolled up her sleeves and stormed toward him with fierce intent.

“You’re one of those followers of the God of Commerce, aren’t you? Buying believers with grain? How disgusting! This is under the protection of the Dawn Goddess… hey, (whispering) he’s kinda hot.” As she drew closer and saw Ang’s face, her cheeks flushed involuntarily and her voice softened.

At that moment, Ang had assumed the form of the Ascetic An. What did “hot” even mean? Ang had no concept of it—but the priests of the Goddess of Beauty did, and so did Anthony.

Thus, the Ascetic An’s appearance carried a divine kind of handsomeness: balanced, serene, solemn and dignified—any believer who saw his face would feel an instinctive trust and calm.

The young woman instantly relaxed; her earlier aggression vanished, replaced by a shy awkwardness.

“I’m a priestess of the Dawn Goddess, Faradi. Hello, what’s your name? I thought you were with that John—I got angry, but I’m not usually like this.”

Ang tilted his head. Faradi’s body carried something strange—an origin force he didn’t recognize. All humans in this world possessed Chaotic Force; the Grand Councilor and his undead followers carried Chaotic Force; Ang had previously encountered those with Dark Force.

But every origin force he’d ever seen was familiar—yet this Faradi carried an origin force he had never encountered before.

Ang merely tilted his head, saying nothing. This made Faradi awkward: “Why aren’t you speaking? Are you thirsty? Come to my place for some water? Are you distributing grain for the God of Commerce? Why?…”

Only handsome men know how eagerly others can pursue them—Ang hadn’t said a word, yet Faradi grabbed his arm and pulled him toward her hut, insisting he drink water.

Ang touched her arm, drawing away a trace of the unknown origin force—but Faradi misinterpreted it, her smile brightening further.

Faradi’s hut was built between the slanted crystal pillar and the ground, extremely crude—a single rammed-earth room with a door but no windows.

One wall pressed against the crystal pillar, effectively serving as a full-height crystal window, so the interior remained bright without needing openings.

This plane was too small for rain, but due to the crystal pillar, moisture rose and condensed into droplets that slid down its surface, completing a cycle—making the area near the pillar the most humid.

Where the roof met the pillar, waterproofing and guiding grooves channeled the condensed water into a below-ground cistern, eliminating the need to fetch water.

Inside, Faradi eagerly pulled over a stool for Ang to sit, then swiftly lit a fire. She placed a water pot beside the crystal wall, moved aside a stone slab, and revealed a small, polished patch behind it.

The patch was palm-sized, smoothed to a glossy sheen—unpolished crystal was frosted and opaque.

A beam of intense light shot from the polished patch, reflected by a mirror onto the pot’s base, slowly raising its temperature.

After setting the pot, Faradi sat beside him and asked eagerly, “You haven’t told me your name yet—what is it?”

“Ang.”

“Oh! You can talk! That’s wonderful! Where are you from?” Faradi’s eyes brightened.

“The Grand Councilor.”

“Oh, from the Grand Councilor’s dead star? What are you doing here? Proselytizing? Old John said you’re giving out grain and seeds—is that true? Can anyone claim them? Do you buy back the crops you help grow?” Faradi asked curiously.

Ang nodded.

“Can I claim some? Do I need to convert? What’s the God of Commerce’s doctrine? Do I have to sell my soul? Well… not that I mind… no no no, I mean—the God of Commerce aligns with my beliefs, conversion isn’t out of the question.” Faradi smiled.

Ang scratched his head and silently cried out: “Help.”

Near the airship in the distance, Anthony and Negril simultaneously froze, exchanging incredulous glances: “I… I just heard the Master call for help?”

“I heard it too—I’m going—” Negril hadn’t finished before collapsing to the ground, his consciousness already projected onto Ang.

As soon as he appeared on Ang’s body, he saw a young woman propping her chin, smiling at Ang: “Are you married? What kind of wife do you like? Men? Women? Or… do you not like people at all?”

“What the hell is this? Why did you yell for help? Are you on a date? You came here to go on a date?” Negril’s eyes bulged.

Ang rarely called for help—he’d assumed it was some Void origin force. But now it’s a woman? Does this woman have hidden power he missed?

Ang mentally said: “You answer.”

“Wait—you yelled for help because you’re too lazy to talk?” Negril stammered.

Ang nodded.

Ang’s nod was meant for Negril—but Faradi couldn’t see Negril, so she misinterpreted it. Her expression darkened instantly, and she whispered sadly: “So you don’t like people…”

Negril couldn’t help but cry out internally: “Anthony, help me!”

Anthony arrived quickly, shouting from outside: “Master, where are you?”

Ang stepped out swiftly and opened the door.

Anthony had already learned the gist from Negril. His gaze passed over Ang and landed on Faradi, his face showing perfectly calibrated awe: “Master, there you are. Oh? Who is this elegant, beautiful lady?”

Faradi’s face lit up: “Elegant? Oh, you’re so sweet! Hello, I’m Faradi. Come in, have some tea!”

“Oh, you’re too kind. Your warmth is as unforgettable as your beauty. A pleasure to meet you,” Anthony smiled.

The thousand-year-old divine conman’s flattery charmed Faradi into radiant laughter, making her forget Ang entirely.

“What’s going on?” Negril finally had a moment to ask.

Ang being stopped by a woman was impossible—Void origin forces couldn’t even hold him back. This must be something else.

Ang extended his hand, pinching between thumb and forefinger a multicolored orb of light—the unknown origin force he’d drawn from Faradi.

“What is this?” Negril asked.

“New origin. Weird.”