Let go of that monster girl!

The balloon has been prepared, and we're now emptying it of air.

The cats purred as they lay on the ball pouch, their little paws rhythmically kneading the fabric, just like kneading milk.

They spread themselves out in a starfish shape and rubbed back and forth on it, trying to force the air trapped inside the cloth into the vent.

The cat was particularly enthusiastic about doing this, after all, it was a legitimate reason to roll around.

Soon the balloon shrank into a flat sheet of skin, lying flat on the ground without any bulge.

The mice carefully inserted the flexible tube from the lime cap into the air intake of the sac, and wrapped it tightly with thin hemp rope, round and round.

"It's done!"

So, it's time for a picnic!

Jimmy took a bag of mushroom cakes from the big basket, and then he took out a catgirl.

Then take out a bag of mushroom cakes.

Then he took out the cat again.

Take out the mushroom pancake.

Then take out the same cat again.

"How exactly did you get in there?"

Molen grabbed the cat by the arm and lifted her up; she turned into a catgirl stick, her tail wagging innocently.

Humans, cats, and mice sat on the ground, and the mice that were digging the foundation also put down their shovels and ran over. Everyone gathered in several circles to share mushroom cakes and water.

Lyme sat to the side, with a large bucket of water and several dark iron discs in front of him.

She picked up the bucket of water, tilted her head back, and gulped down several mouthfuls. Then, she held the iron disc in both hands, took a bite of it, and chewed it down with a crunching sound.

Sizzle, sizzle.

Hu Hu Hu.

Two kilograms of iron can replace one cubic meter of hydrogen gas. The balloon is very small, so it inflates quickly.

The mice, cats, and beast girls chewed on dried mushrooms while watching the sac on Lyme's head slowly swell up.

The fabric changed from flat to full, from limp to rounded, gradually lifting off the ground.

"Miss Lyme's hat is swaying!"

"It's amazing that she can control the gas to flow to the top of her head. The slimes I've seen in the capital could never do such precise internal fluid manipulation."

"It was the Baron and Miss Sulfur who trained him slowly."

"Miss Lime looks like she's about to fly, meow?"

"It really flew, meow!"

No, but Lime was indeed stretched long by the lift, his entire upper body sucked into the hat and pulled upwards, while the slime on his lower body stubbornly clung to the ground.

"Miss Lime is so amazing..."

Soon, all three balloons were fully inflated. Although they were not as big as a single balloon on an airship, each one was two or three meters in diameter and they were bulging together.

If a rat girl were hung below, she would definitely drift away to who knows where.

The balloons were tied with thick ropes and temporarily hung on a large wooden sign next to the lighthouse foundation, with the three plump balloons swaying gently in mid-air.

Molen walked to the largest wooden crate, picked up a crowbar, inserted it into the gap in the crate lid, and pried it open with force.

The wooden cover popped open.

A soft yet incredibly bright radiance burst forth from the wooden box.

All the cats, mice, and beast girls raised their heads at the same time.

"So shiny!"

"So pretty, meow..."

"This is too bizarre, am I really not dreaming...?"

The light from the fluorite streetlights on both sides was completely overwhelmed, and the entire construction site was enveloped in that radiance, illuminating every single speck of dust.

The mice worked together to lift the device out of the box, their little hands being extra careful.

At the center is a large piece of top-grade fluorite from Carrot Neck, larger than the mouse's body, extremely pure, and emitting a rich, warm yellow light.

It is surrounded by a ring of prismatic Fresnel lenses, which consist of four precisely polished glass squares, each cut at a precisely calculated angle.

It can gather the scattered glow of fluorite into four beams and project them into the distance, tens of kilometers away.

It is bright enough and light enough that three small balloons can lift it into the sky.

That bright and beautiful radiance illuminated everyone's eyes.

The core of the lighthouse was originally made for the soon-to-be-built Dessert Hill Lighthouse, but since the lighthouse could not be built anytime soon, Morren decided to send it into the sky in another way.

The balloon's ropes were tied to the device's metal frame, and the mice slowly loosened the securing ropes.

The lighthouse device slowly rose as the three balloons were lifted.

The visible radius of a Kongming lantern is only one kilometer, and that of a typical medieval lighthouse is only four or five kilometers. However, with the application of Fresnel lenses, the maximum visible distance can reach as high as 40 kilometers!

This place will be visible from the entire Cat Territory!

As the lighthouse device rose higher and higher, the Fresnel lens focused the light from the fluorite, causing it to bloom into a small sun in the dark sky.

The light pierced the eternal darkness of the lightless zone, radiating outwards in all directions, crossing every piece of land in the Sweet Hill, above the distant Fungus Forest, and above the unseen wasteland even further away.

Everyone was looking up.

If the hill doesn't know where the cats are, then let the cats know that the hill is here.

Jimmy has told that story more than once.

In the legends that cats believe in, a cat hero crosses the entire land to defeat all the villains who bully cats; her journey is endless.

Whenever the cats are bullied, or whenever they get separated, they light a small sky lantern. If a brave person sees it, they will come to rescue the cats.

Tiny specks of light, carrying tiny hopes, drift into the boundless night sky.

The cats are very sad; the cats keep dying.

but.

Why didn't the hero come?

Is she tired? Has she gone too far? Where is she now?

In the darkness, only silence remains.

Is the legend true?

Jimmy gazed at the glow rising into the night sky, her pale yellow cat ears motionless, her small short sword clutched tightly in her hand.

Morren raised his hand and stretched it out towards the brilliant light in the sky.

The legend is true.

I will raise this light.

Chapter 146 Cat Territory

Cat Territory used to be a good place.

The village chief, Cat, often thinks the same way now.

Legend has it that long ago, the Cat Hero defeated many, many villains. She was so tired that she lay down and took a nap. When she woke up, she was surrounded by cats who had followed her.

So she said, "You can stay here, meow."

Of course, some cats have pointed out that the Cat Territory doesn't have that long a history at all, and it's more likely that a wealthy cat donated a large sum of money to the queen at the time in exchange for the fiefdom.

In the past, the cats in Cat Territory always had many troubles: butterflies were hard to catch, snacks were stolen, houses collapsed, the surrounding lords were treacherous, and cats couldn't serve in the military, so taxes were extremely high.

But now, the cats' troubles are much simpler.

"Am I going to die, meow..."

A large group of dirty catgirls raised their heads, their bright eyes gazing at the dark sky, their cat ears drooping on their heads.

The weather is getting colder and colder; I wonder when it will snow.

Wild cats always have a hard time surviving the winter.

The catgirls wrapped their tails around their waists to keep themselves a little warm, bent down to pick up the dry firewood from the ground, tucked it into their arms, and swayed as they walked towards the camp.

The Deadwood Forest is a good place; the branches there are all dry, making them hard to use for making nests, but they're quite good for burning.

However, dead trees won't grow back, so you can't cut down too many, otherwise the bad guys will easily find them.

Jimmy's boss is very nice; he even brings food for the cats.

Chimera isn't that bad; the cats are strong and can be defeated.

The slave traders were wicked; the cat couldn't beat those foxes.

Later, things went wrong. Antgirls were everywhere, and there were too many Chimeras. The cats had no way to deal with them and could only hide.

It got better then, then got worse.

The slave traders are gone, the ant girls are gone, and the chimeras are gone too.

The cats couldn't grow mushrooms, so they had nothing to eat and were better off being captured by slave traders.

The cats, carrying firewood, walked out of the edge of the dead forest, stepping on pebbles and dead branches, toward the cat village hidden in a depression in the terrain.

A few makeshift tents made of branches and dry grass were crammed into the crater, quiet and dark without any glowstone lamps.

If it weren't for the cat's perfect night vision, you wouldn't be able to tell who lives here.

It's called Cat Village, but it's actually quite small now. The cats' old village was burned down by the foxes. There are fifty cats here now, compared to forty yesterday, but before that there were two hundred.

The scattered hermitages are converging, but the size of the hermitages is not increasing as a result.

The cat at the front stopped, pricked up its ears, and let out a short "meow" into the darkness.

Then came two long "meows".

Several pairs of bright eyes lit up in the darkness.

Several tiny kittens peeked out from behind the tent, and only after confirming that a cat had arrived did they run out and obediently approach the big cat, helping to take the firewood from its arms.

Cat Village regained some vitality. The cats stacked firewood next to the tents, sorted out their meager supplies, and turned over the tattered straw mats to lay them out again.

A kitten crouched beside the stove, clutching a flint in its tiny hand, about to strike it into the fire.

The cat village chief held down her little hand.

"Wait for the hounds to return."

When will they be back?

The hunting cats have returned. Several agile cats approached silently from the shadows, and the cats excitedly surrounded them, their tails held high.

But the beacons looked dejected, their tails dragging on the ground.

The excitement on the cats' faces slowly turned into confusion.

The prey, on the other hand, should be quite large; it shouldn't be able to fit in a bag.

One of the hunting cats took something out of the bag on its back and held it up.

A chimera, no bigger than a chicken, with its head tilted to the side, had a useless arrow stuck in its throat and was already dead.

This was the first time they had ever seen such a small chimera.

If it weren't for the scales on its five legs and the tuft of feathers on its back, the cats wouldn't have recognized it as a chimera.

The cats exchanged uneasy glances and said:

“There have been fewer and fewer chimeras in the vicinity in recent months, as if something in the west is frightening them.”

"Let's try going further next time, meow."

However, if they go too far, they won't be able to bring the prey back, and the cats might have to move again.

The cat village chief patted the hunting cat on the shoulder and comforted him: