Chapter 25: The Unrestrained Forest of Dryads

“It seems the effect is quite good.”

Ye Ying looked at Fan Zhuo’s face, where an unhidden joy gleamed, and lazily stretched, her perfect curves faintly visible beneath the thin veil.

She licked her full red lips, her voice carrying a hint of temptation: “Next time, it can’t just be a simple tail touch.”

Fan Zhuo’s heart jumped violently.

Next… next time?

After just that, he had almost been completely drained…

Of course, it was energy-wise, not physically.

If there were a deeper contact next time, Fan Zhuo had no doubt he would explode on the spot from the overwhelming surge of Saint Power.

“N-Next time then,” Fan Zhuo stammered, trying to brush it off.

He could feel the newly ascended holy energy inside him was extremely unstable.

He was like an intern driver who just got the keys to a Ferrari and hadn’t even fully grasped the difference between the gas and the brake.

He needed time to familiarize himself, to master it.

Otherwise, the next “contact” would probably be more of a shock than a surprise.

Fan Zhuo’s gaze landed on the communicator on the tea table.

“This was left by Mika?”

“Uh-huh.”

Ye Ying walked over and tossed the pocket-watch-like precision device to him.

“She said to contact her with this if you need anything. Also, she told me to pass on…”

She paused, imitating Mika’s exasperated tone with perfect accuracy:

“If I find out again that you’re getting handsy with the White Rabbit, doing anything beyond ‘maintenance’ and ‘inspection’… then let the Warden give you an unforgettable ‘physical lesson.’”

Fan Zhuo’s eye twitched subtly.

The A District Warden, described by Old John as a “walking sun,” was unfathomably powerful.

A “physical lesson” from such an existence would likely end far worse than being trampled by an angel.

“I understand.”

Fan Zhuo put away the communicator, his vigilance toward Mika the little sprite rising another notch.

He glanced at the sky—it was time to leave.

If he stayed any longer, he feared his newly ascended Saint Jobholder status would collapse due to an unstable Dao heart.

“I’ll head out first; there’s still some business over at Alfea’s place. Next time…”

“Go ahead.”

Ye Ying seemed to understand his difficulty and leaned back on the tatami, resuming her lazy posture.

“Remember, come by whenever you can. Your servant always ‘needs’ your Purification Power.”

One of her nine snow-white fox tails quietly and reluctantly hooked the corner of his clothes before quickly retracting.

Fan Zhuo pretended not to see the small gesture and turned to leave the cell.

Behind him, the lazy smile on Ye Ying’s face slowly faded.

She lowered her head to look at her fair palm, where a pure, warm power flowed gently.

That was the Saint Power Fan Zhuo had fed back to her.

“Sacred body… Purification Power…”

She murmured softly, a complex light flickering in her amber eyes—curiosity, longing, and a possessiveness even she had not realized.

“Fan Zhuo… you interesting little fellow, sooner or later you’ll be mine…”

***

Leaving Ye Ying’s cell, Fan Zhuo let out a long breath.

He could clearly feel the changes within his body.

If before, the divine power inside him was a flow of “holy energy” requiring deliberate guidance, now, after ascending to Saint Jobholder, this power had transformed into a higher existence—

“Saint Power.”

It was no longer a passive stream but a gentle “domain” of his own.

Though still faint and only covering less than a meter around him, Fan Zhuo could feel that within this range, his perception and control over energy had reached a new height.

This was the fundamental difference between a Saint Jobholder and an Apprentice Cleric.

This enormous upgrade filled Fan Zhuo with a sense of security and a bright anticipation for the future.

He instinctively headed toward the cell of Slime Queen Alfea.

Through the observation window, he saw Alfea still in deep slumber.

“Rest well, Alfea,” Fan Zhuo whispered through the glass.

“When you wake, I’ll have an even bigger surprise for you.”

With that, he turned and left.

He needed to master this new power quickly, then… develop more “power banks.”

This prison, this divine chosen pasture, held too many “treasures” waiting for him to discover.

***

Asphodel Prison, B District.

This place was a world apart from the heavily guarded C District.

No cold alloy walls, no energy barriers glowing with runes.

It resembled a primordial forest forgotten by the Holy Papal Empire—massive, twisted ancient trees blocking out the sky, thick, impenetrable mist drifting endlessly among them, shrouding everything in a hazy gray-white.

“Lord Valois, look…”

Old John panted, pointing at the boundless sea of trees before them, helplessness written all over his face.

“This B District is basically a giant open-air enclosure. It’s even bigger than the outer suburbs of the Holy City. Finding those ‘heretical waves’ you’re after here is like fishing for a needle in the ocean.”

Lucien de Valois stood on a cliff edge, ignoring Old John’s complaints, his brows furrowed slightly as he scanned the forest beneath the dense mist.

“The Papal Office wouldn’t be mistaken.”

His voice was cold and resolute, devoid of emotion.

“The source of the fluctuation is on this island. Now, I strongly suspect the origin lies within B District.”

Asphodel was established to contain non-human entities that could not be simply “purified” or “executed.”

B District was an exception among them.

Here, what was contained were not singular powerful individuals but entire “tribes” with unique ecologies.

While individual strength might not match that of S-class Demonic Entities, the combined danger of the whole group was considerable.

To avoid unnecessary conflict and management costs, generations of Wardens had adopted a free-range strategy—sealing the entire area with powerful barriers to isolate it from the outside world, letting it develop on its own.

Over time, it became a genuine “Demonic Entity Sanctuary.”

Lucien closed his eyes as if sensing something.

After a moment, he suddenly opened them, his gaze like a sword piercing through the forest in a certain direction.

“There, there’s an unclean scent…”

Saying that, Lucien moved swiftly toward that direction.

“Hey, wait for me!” Old John cursed and hurried after him.

After thirty minutes weaving through the dense woods, the surroundings began to change.

The damp earthy smell gradually faded, replaced by an… extremely rich, sweet fragrance that almost made one dizzy.

At the same time, from the depths of the thick mist ahead, a soft and bright light began to shine—holy and warm, as if hundreds or thousands of clerics were praying there simultaneously.

“This is…” Lucien stopped, a grave expression on his face.

What he had been tracking was a faint “unclean” aura, filled with primitive desire and chaos—things deeply detested by the doctrines of the Holy Light.

Yet why, at the place where this aura was strongest, was there such a pure and magnificent reaction of Saint Power?

“Ah… we’ve arrived.”

Old John arrived, panting, his old face instantly wrinkled like a bitter melon, eyes full of avoidance.

“What is this place?” Lucien asked coldly.

“Ahem…”

Old John cleared his throat and spoke in a very euphemistic tone:

“This is the Treefolk Forest—the B District’s most… most primitive ecological zone.”

“Treefolk Forest? Primitive?”

“Well… um… the life force of these Treefolk is quite vigorous.”

Old John scratched his messy hair, searching for the right words.

“The Demonic Entities here are mainly Treefolk, Flower Spirits, and some… rather peculiar Tree-dwelling Sprites. Their reproduction methods… are quite special, quite… uninhibited.”