Chapter 78: Black Crow

“No signs of life?” Phield poked the pigeon with his finger, confusion written all over his face. “Why do I still feel that the Winged Beast Empathy spell hasn’t disappeared?”

Earlier, on a whim, he had experimented with a fast-learning spell and cast Winged Beast Empathy on the pigeon, forming a mental link with it.

“I’ll try the spell again.”

Phield closed his eyes. His consciousness seemed to sink into the deep sea before suddenly breaking the surface, flowing freely without obstruction.

The next moment, the three-eyed pigeon slowly lifted its head. Its red eyes opened, and in a hoarse, profound voice it spoke, “Isn’t this a visible field of vision? This pigeon isn’t dead.”

“Huh? Lord Phield, why are you speaking through a pigeon?”

Ashina lifted the bird and held it in front of herself. Phield was equally stunned. He and Ashina exchanged glances, both falling silent.

“Don’t panic. I think I can control this pigeon.” Phield made the bird turn its head, and sure enough, he saw his own body standing there with eyes closed. Delight immediately flashed across his face. “It seems we accidentally improved this fast-learning spell.”

The original Winged Beast Empathy had been terrible. It couldn’t control a bird’s movements at all—only follow the pigeon’s instincts, and it could even be knocked out of the sky by a thrown stone.

Now, everything was different.

“Spread your wings.”

The pigeon’s wings unfurled. Black feathers stretched out like blades, savage and sharp. Its once-feeble legs had transformed into eagle-like talons. Phield marveled, “Looks like that strange magical plant altered the pigeon’s body, but it also killed its consciousness. My magic just happened to preserve the imprint of its awareness.”

When his consciousness returned to his own body, the pigeon seemed to lose its power source and dropped stiffly downward, only to be caught by Phield.

“Hahahahaha! From now on, I’ve got a drone.” Phield was ecstatic.

“Since its species has changed, it shouldn’t be called a pigeon anymore. From now on, we’ll call it Black Crow.”

He named it on the spot—it looked exactly like a Black Crow. He stroked its metallic feathers. “Using its design for a banner wouldn’t be bad either.”

“Now, let’s test its data.”

Like a child with a new toy, Phield released Black Crow and let it fly all over the territory.

To his astonishment, Black Crow’s flight speed was incredibly fast. Even in a normal state, it moved like a sprint, leaving only a black afterimage that slaves could barely follow. Moreover, it could enter the gray mist without being corrupted—perhaps because it had already become a corrupted creature itself.

While Phield was still immersed in playing with it inside the room, someone knocked on the door.

Phield straightened his collar. “Come in.”

“My lord, the assembly is about to begin. Following your orders, I’ve gathered all the residents at the clearing.”

Tate was as straightforward as ever, never wasting words. The man was a complete workaholic—during these past days of construction, he had labored day and night, even hauling rubble with his own hands. As for his wife, children, and mother, he seemed to have forgotten them entirely.

Tate’s wife had been stationed at the Grand Winery, helping produce Vigor Elixir. The process required almost no technical skill. The workers Phield hired were all female freemen—careful and meticulous. So far, no “poisoning” incidents had occurred, and even if something did go wrong, the women wouldn’t cause a catastrophic accident.

Tate’s daughter, Alexia, spent her days at the freemen’s gathering area, playing with Sarah. She was one of the few people in the entire territory without real labor duties.

As for Sarah, she came from the Bull territory. She had originally been offered up to Baron Bull by the villagers, but Phield had intercepted her. Now she was jointly cared for by freemen and maids, with no worries about food or drink. Her usual task was cooking porridge for the slaves.

Multitasking, Phield guided Black Crow to perch on the roof of the Grand Winery while he stood up and hung his longsword at his waist. “Good. Has the bread been distributed?”

“Yes, all of it,” Tate replied with a smile, nodding. “You are truly generous.”

“Hahaha, it has nothing to do with generosity. I just want them to understand one thing—listening to me means having bread to eat.”

Phield didn’t bother hiding his intentions. Ever since gaining two Divine Chosen, he had grown far more confident.

Even if the worst happened—if everyone in the territory betrayed him—he could still turn the situation around with the two Divine Chosen. Besides, he himself was a Tier-One Knight.

The top three combat powers of the territory were all in his hands.

Power, strength, and wealth were the roots of a man’s confidence.

Phield muttered, “It’s been a while since I checked the territory’s happiness level.”

Name: Phield

Class: Lord

Territory: Starnight Fortress, Windrise Town, and surrounding lands

Contracted Divine Chosen: Ashina (Frost), Rosalia (Corruption)

Population: 427

Development Level: 2 (Nothing to its name)

Happiness: -3 (Slightly oppressive)

Environment Value: -25 (Ruined, corruption everywhere)

Probability of Divine Chosen Appearance: 0.000000009%

“Much better than at the start,” Phield sighed. “Though the development level is rising slowly, both happiness and environment have improved a lot.”

The probability of a Divine Chosen appearing in the territory had increased. Though it still approached zero infinitely, it was far better than nothing.

“Let’s go. Time to see the residents.”

Outside the Grand Winery—

“Run faster! Whoever’s slow has to sneak and steal Mr. Kaor’s leather boots!”

Tate’s daughter Alexia darted ahead like a cheerful little bird, pulling Sarah along as she rushed toward the crowd. The young girl was at an age full of curiosity and playfulness, fascinated by everything in the territory.

In truth, when she had first arrived at Nightfall Domain, she had been terrified. She thought she had entered a witch’s lair or the home of swamp monsters—the kind of place only lying children were sent to. Back then, the territory had been a complete mess, filled with corrupted remnants, writhing flesh and tentacles, and slaves wearing expressions of utter despair.

The girl had hidden under her blanket all day, drenched in sweat yet unwilling to stick her head out.

There were no flowers, no companions, no lively markets.

But today—or rather, several days ago—Alexia had begun to adapt. She witnessed the territory changing with her own eyes: corruption being cleared away, the deathly fog retreating farther and farther until it nearly vanished from sight.

Black-robed cavalry patrolled constantly, and the heavily armored guards standing watch at the Grand Winery never slacked off. The first step Alexia took outside the winery was following the maid Meg to help make slave rations among the freemen—that was when she met Sarah, another girl who had nearly been sent to Bull Fortress.

“Hey? Sarah, look—Uncle Sam is standing on the stage. Are they going to dance? Let’s go up and dance together!”

Sarah shrank back slightly. “I don’t know… I only know how to cook porridge.”

Alexia grabbed her arm. “Don’t keep thinking about cooking. Come on, dancing is fun!”

“N-no, the lord is about to speak!” Sarah hurriedly stopped her.

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