Sorcerer’s Handbook

Chapter 361: Beauty Houttuynia Farm

Harvey ignored the subtle complaints of his companions and said seriously, “There is no doubt that this is the work of a necromancer, at least of the Sanctuary… no, possibly even of Legendary realm! This Beauty Houttuynia Farm he set up is indeed unique, but it’s malicious and ruthless, completely betraying the necromantic teachings of Haagen-Dazs… I despise him.”

As expected, there’s no hatred like that between peers. The two-wings necromancer’s tone was full of contempt.

“Necromancers do use bodies and souls as spellcasting materials, but the bodies are usually taken from those who have already died, and the souls are captured from those struggling out of hell. Necromancers from the Blood Saint are basically armchair practitioners, even having hospitals deliver the bodies.”

“Even those who prefer fresh, hot souls merely kill people and use their bodies on the spot, personally creating the corpses.”

Ashe and the others breathed a sigh of relief—phrases like “even” and “merely” in Harvey’s nonchalant tone were enough to confirm that he was still the same twisted necromancer inside.

“However, this place is different.”

Harvey continued, “If we necromancers are cooks making cooked food, this place is a deviant canteen producing sashimi. These Beauty Houttuynia plants are all filled with the scent of living people.”

Everyone was stunned and turned to look at Annan.

Annan touched her earring and said noncommittally, “Let’s talk as we walk.”

The group from the Funeral Firm walked through the wide plaza, carefully avoiding the various postures of the Beauty Houttuynia plants. If their previous caution was due to fear, their movements now also carried a protective nature, as if they were afraid of breaking these fragile items.

“Do you remember the Family Rebirth Dream, which aims to suppress the threshold increase caused by daily consumption of Beauty Mist?” Annan said. “You’ve also experienced the dream. Do you think the threshold is being suppressed?”

“Yes,” Igor affirmed. “I monitored the hormonal changes in my body with the Gospel Book. Each time I left the dream, the secretion of various hormones returned to normal.”

“Then, it can suppress it for a day, a week, a month, a year,” Annan continued. “Do you think the dream can suppress it for a hundred years?”

The outsiders blinked, understanding the implication behind Annan’s words.

“No matter how effective the Family Rebirth Dream is, the threshold will still increase bit by bit, and physiological changes in the organs will accumulate over time, becoming irreversible. The progress bar will eventually fill up,” Annan explained. “Because of different physical conditions, the progress bars of various races fill at different rates. For humans, it generally maxes out around sixty-five years old.”

Ashe swallowed hard. “What happens when the progress bar is full?”

“They no longer need to work and come here to spend the rest of their lives… they retire forever.”

“So, your Vamora people have a pretty good old age,” Igor sneered. “After all, there’s no old age.”

Annan replied calmly, “You just saw those Vamora who ‘broke down’ due to the reduced concentration of white mist. When a Vamora’s threshold progress bar is full, their body is like ‘all parts are broken.’ Even if you inject concentrated white mist into their veins, it can’t ‘fix’ them.”

“Beauty Mist is not a miracle. The pleasure it brings comes at a cost. For the organization, the pleasure from Beauty Mist reduces people’s desires, which in turn lowers the sorcerer success rate. After all, sorcerers are almost the most greedy beings. Who would work hard to train and study without a strong desire?”

“In the whole Gospel, the proportion of sorcerers among Vamora is the lowest. There are only three Sanctuary sorcerers, including Qenna, which is less than half of Azura’s.”

“On a personal level, Beauty Mist destroys most of their subjective initiative. Most are willing to become pawns of the patriarch, living like cattle in reality and like infants in dreams.”

“After experiencing pleasure for most of their lives, they are like parts that have been running at full capacity every day; their bodies will be overwhelmed and break down prematurely.”

“In the beginning, when these clansmen ‘broke down,’ they were just buried and used as fertilizer. But a remarkably talented necromancer, whether because he thought it was wasteful to just bury them or he genuinely cared about these broken clansmen, eventually developed a Miracle that allowed Vamora to ‘retire with dignity.’”

“Can’t satisfy your threshold with the white mist emitted by the Beauty Houttuynia anymore? Then let’s turn you directly into Beauty Houttuynia, cutting out the middleman.”

“Too old to work? Then don’t work at all. You can forever immerse yourself in your own Dream, and the excess pleasure will turn into mist and be released.”

“Forever retired, forever happy, forever detached from reality.”

Ashe murmured, “It actually sounds pretty nice…”

Lise smacked the back of Ashe’s head.

“Of course it sounds nice. After all, it is a ‘Miracle,’” Annan emphasized, her tone ambiguous, leaving it unclear whether she was mocking or reflecting. “The Gospel Book can accurately predict whose progress bar is about to be Full. On their last day, these elderly and frail clansmen will, prompted by the Gospel Book, come to the farm voluntarily. When their progress bar is Full and their body completely breaks down, the heraldry will trigger the Miracle Ritual Track within the farm, transforming them into Beauty Houttuynia.”

“By the way, the appearance of their Beauty Houttuynia form has nothing to do with their originals. It reflects the image they most desire to become, which is why most of them here are young and attractive.”

Ashe looked around. “But wait, there are overwhelmingly more beautiful women here. If the gender ratio were balanced…”

“Wanting to become the opposite sex is a very normal desire,” Igor explained. “Gender reassignment surgeries in the Blood Moon have always been very popular.”

Ashe stared at Igor in shock. “Igor, how do you know these things? Were you once a pure Bewitcher in a literal sense?”

Igor rolled his eyes. “Many people change their gender but not their mindset. ‘Correcting self-gender perception’ is a hot topic in the psychological counseling industry. Are you interested, Ashe? I can give you a 20% discount.”

“Interested? I’ve never realized that I’m a super handsome, kind, friendly, humorous, sunny, and powerful mega-stud. Please, correct that for me.”

“Ashe, stop talking. That annoying little girl behind you is about to throw up.”

“Can we please leave here quickly?”

Harvey looked like a cockroach that had fallen into a bottle of perfume, feeling extremely uncomfortable. “Alice is telling me she feels really sick.”

“We’re almost there.”

Annan led them into a passage on the outskirts of the square. Unlike the square, this passage showed no signs of artificial construction; it looked like a natural cave.

As soon as they stepped in, Lise and Ashe both shivered. After walking for a while, Ashe couldn’t help but say, “What is this place? I feel itchy all over.”

Annan looked at Ashe with surprise. “You actually understand the Time Sect?”

Igor’s eyes flickered, and he immediately summoned the Gospel Book to check the time. His pupils contracted sharply.

The stopwatch on the Gospel Book was spinning rapidly. For every second Igor felt pass, a full thirty seconds elapsed on the Gospel Book!

“I forgot to mention, the Beauty Houttuynia Farm is built within the Abyss, and this is a passage between abysses. Both time and space are compressed here,” Annan said. “Once we cross this passage, we’ll leave Vamora and reach the abyss of another city.”

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