Chapter 187: The Flower of Calamity

Phield quickly sorted through the spoils, his eyes met with nothing but various herbs. Because he occasionally gave the soldiers lessons, they didn’t touch the herbs recklessly, instead carefully storing them in wooden boxes found in the cavern.

“Magical plants?” Phield’s eyes lit up as he hurried over to inspect them, gently lifting one of the boxes. “I know this—Frostwhite Rose, a specialty of Ross Territory. It’s an essential ingredient for rose potions. If only I could obtain the seeds of magical plants, I could cultivate them myself in the future.”

“This one is Immaculate Mushroom.”

“Huh? The Flower of Calamity?” Phield froze for a moment, then burst into delight, clenching his fist in excitement. “The combat strength of my territory is about to rise again.”

Rosalia’s Divine Guard only lacked a material like The Flower of Calamity to collectively advance to the second tier.

A force of fifty second-tier warriors under his command—just imagining it filled him with an overwhelming sense of security. Even a first-tier Divine Chosen would be defeated or slain if surrounded by fifty second-tier warriors fighting without regard for their lives.

Generally speaking, a difference in rank could compensate for a numerical gap of about three to ten individuals. In other words, under standard conditions, a third-tier being could defeat three to ten second-tier beings. Of course, exceptions existed, but that was the general rule.

Phield grinned for a long moment, nearly splitting his face with how wide he smiled, before slowly exhaling and forcing himself back into the composed demeanor of a lord.

Sweeping his gaze across the rest, most of the herbs were either unfamiliar or fairly common.

“Carefully load this batch of herbs onto the carts. Don’t damage them,” Phield ordered sternly.

He was extremely satisfied with this haul—so much so that he almost wished for more “couriers” like that black-robed man.

“Ashina, burn the corpses of the goblins and the adventurers. Don’t let them turn into monsters.”

“Leave it to me.”

After spending some time burning the cave inside and out, Phield stepped out to find Lydia already asleep in the carriage.

Led by the soldier who had previously discovered the ore, the group arrived at the area where the salt ore had been found.

“Do you remember where the mine is?” Phield looked around but saw no obvious cave.

“My lord, please wait a moment.”

“I found it!”

After a short while, a voice called out from a concealed spot.

The natural salt deposit was small, only about fifty to sixty square meters, but the surroundings were covered in beautiful orange patterns.

Phield slowly released his magic. Within his perception range, the entire area was filled with natural salt ore.

“Excellent.” The corners of his lips curled upward as he nodded in satisfaction. “Our territory now has another resource.”

Salt was extremely valuable, often called a flawless gift from the gods. Without it, one simply wouldn’t have the strength.

Rock salt was superior to sea salt, rich in minerals, and even possessed detoxifying properties. Of course, in the face of magic, such effects were insignificant and not worth special attention.

“Fill all the carts.”

With a wave of his hand, the slaves picked up their pickaxes and got to work, while the soldiers set up portable barricades, forming a small defensive perimeter.

“This is a bit slow. Breaking rocks is exhausting work.”

After a moment of thought, Phield murmured, “Using The Ring of Sin on the soldiers worked well before, but the duration was too short. This time… I’ll try it on the slaves.”

He acted immediately. With a single thought, the effect of The Ring of Sin spread over all the slaves.

“Huh? Why don’t I feel tired?”

“Me too. I feel completely energized.”

The slaves stared at their hands in disbelief, feeling as though they had endless strength.

“I’ve bestowed a miracle upon you. Work hard. If you finish early, you can rest for half a day,” Phield said, tossing out a well-timed “blessing.”

“There’s such a good deal?”

“Work harder!”

The slaves’ eyes lit up. They threw themselves into mining like madmen. Meanwhile, Phield noticed his own magic being rapidly consumed.

After half a day, the ten carts he had brought were filled to the brim with ore.

The moment The Ring of Sin’s effect faded, the slaves were instantly drained of strength, collapsing to the ground, dizzy and exhausted.

“As expected, The Ring of Sin can’t be used indefinitely. It puts a strain on the body—fortunately, it’s only fatigue.” Phield silently noted this characteristic, then waved his hand. “Rest for half an hour, then we return to Nightfall Domain. Tomorrow, you’ll get half a day off.”

“Victory…”

The crowd cheered weakly.

The journey back was uneventful, and they safely returned to the camp.

“Did we leave the Northern Province?”

Hearing the gates of the estate open, Lydia stirred awake groggily. When she saw Windrise Town, she froze.

“So fast?” She looked around, only to realize the sky was still shrouded in mist. Her eyes widened in shock. “Wait… this is Nightfall Domain? There’s actually a town here people can live in! It’s no different from the villages outside—there’s even wheat, young green stalks…”

Phield chuckled. “Of course. Otherwise, where would I live?”

“People outside all say… uh…”

Lydia’s words trailed off as she sneakily glanced at Phield.

“Say what?” Phield leaned forward, curious.

“They say you’re a devil—that you buy slaves to feed the corrupted corpses in exchange for the ability to move freely through the death fog. Privately, they all call you the Devil Lord.” Lydia shrank back, quickly adding in a flustered tone, “Of course, I didn’t say that—I’m very grateful to you.”

Phield waved his hand, putting on a mysterious expression. “As expected… life is lonely.”

Ashina poked him in the lower back, never missing a chance. “If you’re lonely, tonight I can—”

“Alright, alright. Who’s afraid of who?”

Phield showed no hesitation.

Looking around, Lydia grew more and more astonished. The houses were neatly arranged—even the shabby thatched huts were aligned in near-perfect rows. The ground was clean, nothing like the filth she had expected. In fact, it was better than most villages she had seen.

She suddenly felt a strange contrast in Phield. In battle, he was the epitome of a noble—cold and composed. Yet in governing his territory, everything was orderly and efficient.

“My lord… may I stay here?” Lydia lowered her head, silent for a moment, before speaking with a tone both resolute and sorrowful. “I know Holy Light magic. I can heal the wounded. I… don’t have the courage to enter the gray mist again. My companions are gone, and I don’t know what to do.”

“That would be perfect. Nightfall Domain welcomes you.”

Phield gave her an extra glance, slightly surprised. He had originally planned to persuade her to stay—but now that she had brought it up herself, it saved him the trouble.

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