Final Lord

Chapter 280 Miracle of the Spirit Spring
"Everyone line up and enter the swamp along the mycelium corridor according to your numbers. Do not crowd or trample!"

At Wang Bufu's command, the cave dwellers immediately occupied the exit and maintained order.

With the help of the cavemen, the first pioneers from the Shackled Territory stepped into the desolate wetlands one by one.

Old Henry was an ordinary brewer in the Shackles. He staggered down the mycelial steps of the Corpse Fungus Sky Island, his cloudy eyes stung by the emerald halo of the Fountain of Life.

This old worker, who had been brewing sour ale in shackles for forty years, was now gripping the rope ladder tightly with his hands, which were cracked like tree bark.

When his first foot touched the black soil at the edge of the wetland, a warm, moist sensation suddenly shot up his spine from the soles of his feet—like frozen earth illuminated by the first rays of spring sunlight. His knees buckled, and he almost collapsed to the ground.

"This soil...it's black soil? This is the sacred soil that Viscount Hank used to grow his vineyards! Viscount Hank only had half an acre, and here it's everywhere!"

Old Henry trembled as he dug his fingers into the soil.

He suddenly found his fingers itchy. When he pulled his fingers out, he was surprised to see that the knuckles that had been frozen in the shackled mine thirty years ago were now making a faint sound like tender buds sprouting.

He stared in astonishment at the glistening liquid seeping from his cracked fingernails, the long-standing pain in his knuckles that had tormented him in the cold night dissipating with the warmth flowing between his fingers.

"What...what...what's going on?" Old Henry stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

Meanwhile, gasps of astonishment rose and fell. People in the same predicament as old Henry were everywhere among the refugees!

"My lungs... my lungs are healed!" Martha, a textile worker suffering from tuberculosis, tore open her patched-up linen clothes. The purplish-black ulcers on her chest were fading at a visible speed, and the new skin was glowing pink like the buds of a tree in early spring.

A miracle! This is simply a miracle!

Seeing the people's surprised expressions, Wang Bufu smiled slightly.

As a natural wonder of logistical importance, the Spring of Life is characterized by its abundant vitality. Within its coverage area, minor injuries and illnesses will heal rapidly.

This is the power of natural wonders!

If a creature's nest is a paradise for a certain kind of creature, then the area surrounding natural wonders is the heaven of all life in order!

Behind him, a miraculous unloading ceremony was unfolding across the entire Corpse Fungus Sky Island. Rattan baskets laden with wheat seeds, like ripe fruit, fell one after another from the spore sacs in the island's abdomen.

Each time the basket plunged into the black soil, it splashed up emerald-colored sparks, as if the earth was responding to the sky's gift with starlight.

One of the baskets cracked open upon impact, and golden grains of wheat rolled to old Henry's knees—he instinctively grabbed a handful, only to find that the seeds were pulsating slightly in his palm, like the heartbeat of a baby.

These are foods from the Shackled Territory, which will provide these people with their first source of energy.

With the life-giving spring present, once they have cultivated the land and harvested their first crop, the future food supply will be inexhaustible.

"Holy Spring! It is the Holy Spring that is protecting us!"

A hoarse shout abruptly shattered the silence of the wetlands. The white-haired old priest staggered and collapsed beside the Emerald Spring, his withered fingers digging deep into the damp black soil. His skin, like dried tree bark, began to soften in the reflection of the spring water—the cracked lines smoothed out like furrows by a spring breeze, and the cloudy whites of his eyes gradually regained their long-lost clarity.

"Ah!! This is the blessing of the Lord of Dawn!" The old priest trembled as he cupped a pool of spring water in his hands. The glistening water droplets condensed into the shape of ears of wheat in his palm, then turned into tiny specks of light that seeped into his skin.

He abruptly looked up, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Wang Bufu on the high platform, his voice distorted with wild joy: "Lord, you must be the messenger of the Lord of Dawn! It was our Lord who led him to this desolate land, and then bestowed upon us new life through the Holy Spring!" This cry was like a spark falling into a haystack. In an instant, fifty thousand pairs of eyes ignited with a frenzied flame; the migrants abandoned their belongings, pushed aside their companions, and surged towards the spring like a tidal wave.

Some people, after tripping, simply crawled on all fours, oblivious to the dirt filling their fingernails; mothers lifted their babies above their heads, as if this would allow their children to be touched by the holy spring sooner; several old men who had been lame for half their lives threw off their crutches and stumbled to the front.

"Let me touch the sacred spring!"

"Give me a sip of water! Just one sip!"

"Lord of the Dawn, you have finally heard your servant's prayers!"

Cries, prayers, and the sounds of bodies colliding intertwined into a frenzied symphony.

"Silence! Everyone stop!"

Wang Bufu's fierce shout was like a thunderclap, instantly piercing through the frenzied clamor.

As his black robes billowed, he suddenly raised his hand, and the caveman legion immediately executed the command with mechanical precision—three hundred gray-brown-skinned warriors marched in orderly steps, forming a triple-ring defensive line centered on the Spring of Life. Their slender bony fingers gripped poisoned spears, the tips of which gleamed with a cold, eerie blue light in the emerald glow, creating an insurmountable wall of metallic thorns.

The people at the front row were jolted awake by the cold touch of the spearhead against their throats. The old priest staggered backward, and several young men who had rushed to the front hurriedly stopped, their shoes carving deep furrows in the black soil.

"The sacred spring is noble, and mortals shall not desecrate it. Worship is permitted, but approach is forbidden. Anyone who crosses the line again..." Shanpao's poison sac bulged in his cheeks, his hoarse voice carrying the stench of rising venom, "will be considered a traitor!"

The restless crowd fell into dead silence, with only heavy breathing echoing through the swamp.

But beneath this forced calm, a frenzied undercurrent was still surging—the muffled thuds of fifty thousand pairs of knees pounding into the mud echoed one after another, and the migrants touched their foreheads to the ground, their chapped lips frantically kissing the soil that exuded the fragrance of grass and trees.

An elderly man with white hair tore open his clothes to reveal his chest, as if trying to merge his entire body into this sacred place; a young mother pressed down on the back of her child's neck, forcing him to kowtow, and the baby's cries and the believer's murmurs intertwined to form an eerie hymn.

Wang Bufu coldly surveyed the spontaneously formed pilgrimage, a slight smile playing on his lips beneath his cloak.

Faith can make people foolish, but faith is not a bad thing at this time.

The spark at his fingertips suddenly burst forth with a flare like the sun, and the earth trembled.

[Build mode is now available]

Should residential cabins be built?

[Residential Hut: 10 Wood, 10 Ore, Human Race Adaptation +20 Gold]

[City Wall: 1 piece of timber / 5 meters]

"Consume resources to build 10,000 resident houses!"

"boom--"

The earth trembled, and the black soil churned. As the spark at Wang Bufu's fingertips burst forth with dazzling light, the entire desolate wetland seemed to be infused with life.

(End of this chapter)