Final Lord

Chapter 279 Migration
The enormous corpse fungus island, like a floating mountain, moved slowly beneath leaden clouds. Its grayish-white cap was covered with honeycomb-like pores, releasing pale purple clouds of spores with a rhythmic, breathing motion.

Tens of thousands of people stood densely packed on the mushroom cap platform, their tattered clothes fluttering in the wind, yet their cloudy eyes shone with hope.

Thousands of mycelial cables dangled below the floating island, each wrapped with a rattan basket laden with supplies. As the altitude decreased, the damp swampy air mingled with a strange, refreshing scent of vegetation.

The migrants all stood on tiptoe, peering into the distance through the drifting spore mist.

The desolate wetlands, like a greedy giant mouth, silently opened under the gray sky.

The people from the Shackled Territory saw some swamp lizards walking on the soft, sticky black mud. Every time they lifted their feet, it was as if they were being pulled by some invisible creature, making an unsettling "squeaking" sound.

The air was thick with the smell of decay and dampness, mixed with a kind of indescribable, sweet, fishy odor, like the deathly fragrance of rotting plants and the bodily fluids of poisonous insects.

In the distance, dense reeds swayed in the wind, rustling softly, as if countless tiny creatures were lurking in the shadows. Occasionally, a few dark green glints of water flashed through the reeds, whether from venomous snakes or lurking crocodiles, it was hard to tell.

"Is this place... really habitable?" A thin woman held her child tightly in her arms, her voice trembling. Her gaze was fixed on the pool in front of her—a strange oily film floated on the surface of the water, shimmering with iridescent colors in the dim light, like the secretions of some kind of highly venomous creature, a sight that filled one with dread.

"Look over there, everyone!" someone suddenly exclaimed. Everyone looked down and saw countless dark red vines coiled in the mud. They were slowly wriggling like living things. The surface of the vines was covered with fine thorns, and the skeletons of several small animals could be vaguely seen wrapped around them, long since turned into dry bones.

Even more unsettling was the occasional bubbling sound emanating from the depths of the swamp, as if some enormous creature was breathing beneath the water. Occasionally, a dark shadow would sweep across the surface, creating ripples before vanishing just as quickly, leaving behind only a chilling silence.

“I once heard a bard say that the Dead Wasteland is extremely dangerous, and even plants eat people…” an old man murmured, his cloudy eyes fixed on a huge carnivorous vine not far away—its top was like an open maw, with sticky filaments hanging from its edges, like the undigested remains of its prey.

Fear spread through the crowd, and they huddled together involuntarily, as if only their body heat could dispel the chill brought by the swamp.

However, just as they were about to retreat, a dazzling halo suddenly appeared in front of the Corpse Fungus Sky Island. It was the glow of the fire seed, like a lighthouse in the darkness, silently announcing the rebirth of this desolate land.

Wang Bufu stood at the edge of the Corpse Fungus Sky Island, holding a flickering flame in his hand. The intense light reflected on his cold, handsome face, like a lighthouse in the night. His voice wasn't loud, but it seemed to carry an undeniable power, piercing through the noisy crowd and reaching the depths of everyone's heart.

“Fellow citizens—” he began slowly, his gaze sweeping over the weary and fearful faces below, “ahead lies your new home.”

The crowd gradually quieted down, countless eyes fixed on him, some filled with confusion, some with unease, some with fear...

“I know that in your eyes, this land is barren, dangerous, and even frightening,” Wang Bufu’s voice was low and firm. “But barrenness also represents opportunity.”

He slightly raised his hand, pointing to the wetland in the distance shrouded in an emerald halo.

"In the Shackled Territory, you are the lowest of the low, ants that the nobles can exploit at will. You work your hardest, yet you can't even afford a toilet; you shed blood and sweat, yet you can only barely fill your stomach with leftovers."

His words were like a sharp knife, slicing open the deepest pain in everyone's hearts. Some clenched their fists, some lowered their heads, anger and resentment flashing in their eyes. "But here—" Wang Bufu's voice suddenly rose, carrying an undeniable force, "everything is different!"

"You will build your own houses with your own hands; you will cultivate the land and harvest your own food; you can own carriages, caravans, and even servants! As long as you work hard enough, everything here will belong to you!"

His gaze was piercing, sweeping across every face as if making a promise to each one.

"I swear in the name of the lord—" He slowly raised the torch, the intense light illuminating his figure, like a vow uttered by a god, "No one can take away your wealth; it will accompany you throughout your lives, and after your death, it will be inherited by your descendants, passed down from generation to generation!"

And I will lead my powerful troops to protect your lives!

As soon as he finished speaking, a low cheer erupted from the crowd. Some people knelt down in excitement, while others hugged their children tightly, their eyes filled with tears.

Wang Bufu withdrew his gaze, a slight smile playing on his lips.

These words alone cannot completely dispel their anxiety, but once they calm down a bit and get back to work, they won't have the energy to overthink things.

Suddenly, Wang Bufu's expression changed, and he said solemnly, "We're almost there!"

The migrants rose to their feet, and to their astonishment, they discovered that in the distance, on the barren, desolate wetlands, emerald green waters were surging.

"Don't stand up, sit down! The Corpse Fungus Sky Island is about to land!" Wang Bufu's roar echoed at the edge of the sky island.

With a tooth-grinding squeak of fibers rubbing together, hundreds of tentacled, anchoring hyphae shot out from the bottom of the floating island, embedding themselves into the hard soil at the edge of the swamp like living creatures.

The enormous corpse fungus island began to slowly descend.

The migrants held their breath, feeling the slight tremors beneath their feet. Five-year-old Lillian clung to her mother's leg, her dirty face curiously observing everything around her. Suddenly, she pointed into the distance and exclaimed, "Mommy, look! Those lights are dancing!"

Indeed, the light particles gushing from the spring in the center of the wetland rise and fall with a certain rhythm, like a symphony orchestra composed of millions of fireflies.

The essence of the living spring shone upon these migrants, silently improving their physical condition.

The residents who were initially anxious found themselves relaxing without even realizing it.

With a slight tremor, the Corpse Fungus Sky Island landed on the swamp.

(End of this chapter)