In Qin Yu’s territory,

goblin robots proved invaluable, delivering a steady flow of timber and ore income.

Now Qin Yu could focus peacefully on golem crafting. His goal was clear: using alchemy to transform his domain into a fully automated territory.

Golems and robots were the key. Once operational, the territory would surge forward—no need for unstable refugee populations.

In his past life, refugees had sabotaged countless lords. Petty theft was the least of it; some were moles from rival factions—true undercover agents.

Back to automation: major guilds relied on goblin robots for resource gathering. Golems? Rarely touched.

Why? Strict export controls by the Alchemists’ Union—and sky-high prices.

A base maid-type golem frame cost 10,000 gold coins. “Frame” meant barebones functionality. Unlocking maid duties or combat skills required extra payments—just like buying a game, then shelling out for DLCs.

Fully unlocked? Even pricier than a goblin robot…

Fine for one as a novelty. More? Simply not worth it.

“Master, what are you two doing here?”

Failing to find Qin Yu aboveground, Silver Crimson Snow descended to the underground warehouse—now his golem workshop. Luna was assisting inside.

“No Trespassing!”

Luna blocked her, jabbing a finger at the sign. Today, she’d settle a personal score.

Silver Crimson Snow tried to push past—but Luna held firm.

“Servant of a servant,” Silver Crimson Snow’s voice turned icy, “before obstructing your master’s master, choose your death wisely.”

Tension crackled. One wrong move, and Qin Yu’s brand-new workshop would be blown to smithereens.

“Luna, let Xiaoxue in.”

“Hmph. Spoiling her again.”

Luna snorted coldly but stepped aside. Her heart had shifted subtly. Once, she’d hated Qin Yu and Silver Crimson Snow—that scheming pair who’d tricked her.

Now? She’d become Qin Yu’s golem partner. Her friction with Silver Crimson Snow stemmed from how he favored her above all.

Yet Luna hadn’t noticed this change in herself.

“Master… are you crafting something like your servant?”

Spotting half-formed golems in the workshop, Silver Crimson Snow asked.

“If only,” Qin Yu murmured, slotting an arm into a torso. “Luna’s body is a Divine Golem Frame—crafted by a grandmaster alchemist over a lifetime. Materials? Unobtainable today. These? Just ordinary golems…”

Five lower-tier golem frames neared completion. Qin Yu planned maid-types for daily cleaning: Maid-Type 01, 02… and so on.

Higher-tier golems required a living soul to awaken self-awareness.

Like Luna: stronger soul, stronger golem—but the frame’s tier had to match.

Golem frame tiers: Lower (Ranks 1–2), Middle (3–5), Upper (6–7), Special (8–9), Divine (10).

From Upper-tier onward, soul catalysis was mandatory. Without it? A durable but hollow shell.

Souls had to consent willingly. Forced binding invited catastrophe.

Other methods existed—but only Rank-10 deities knew them. Like Luna.

“Xiaoxue…”

Qin Yu paused as a message lit his screen.

Sugar: “Yu, situation [Image].”

The image showed a letter. Bold header: *Challenge Letter*.

Qin Yu: “…”

Dumbfounded. Had he provoked anyone? Why would a guild attack his territory?

Sugar: “Sorry, Yu. This guy’s… connected to us.”

Tang Jihede explained everything.

Qin Yu: “Understood. Trivial. If they come, we crush them.”

Tang Jihede exhaled in relief. Living under his roof, causing trouble? Unforgivable.

Qin Yu scanned the guild name. “Shifang Jumie? Rings a bell…”

Past life: decent early-mid guild, briefly top 200. But reliant on Pantheon Realms’ “aid”—granted army usage rights, not ownership. When the Pantheon harvested them? Collapse.

“Check current stats…”

Guild rank #288. Level 3. Combat power: 493.

Met Level-3 criteria: basic military coordination.

“Pity. Top-150? Maybe a flicker of concern. This? Barely a snack.”

Silver Crimson Snow alone could erase them. The Amazonian Tribe would obliterate their army.

“Their troops? Perfect for training. Territory defenses keep our kids safe. Truly killing two birds with one stone.”

Qin Yu’s mind raced. This guild was delivering a blessing.

“No escape. Amazonian Tribe ambushes their retreat—total annihilation.”

Teleport scrolls? Maybe a few players. Mass-teleport scrolls? Rare, costly. Used only in desperation.

—

Inside the Pope’s Hall of the Luminous Theocracy,

reports on the undead and Monet’s dispatch lay before the council.

Weights and consequences hung in the air.

“Your Holiness! The greenskins’ desecration demands annihilation!” roared the Temple Legion commander, fists clenched at the eastern church’s ruin. “An affront to the Holy Light!”

“Commander, temper your rage,” a bishop countered. “The undead threat is urgent. Unchecked, they’ll drown the land in death.”

Bishops mourned the church—but the undead war came first.

Left to spread, the undead would become an unstoppable tide, turning all they touched into blighted wasteland.

“I side with the bishops,” the Imperial Guard commander stated. “Undead first. Greenskins can wait.”

“The Inquisition concurs,” added the third commander.

Majority favored the undead. The Pope rose.

“Minority yields to majority. Draft the undead strategy. Recall the Holy Maiden. The Luminous Theocracy turns all strength against this invasion.”

“Yes!”

Far east, at the ruined church, Monet received the order.

“Understood…”

Reluctant, yet duty-bound.

“I will avenge you. No desecrator of the Holy Light shall go unpunished.”

With those words, Monet and her squad turned back toward the Luminous Theocracy.