HTLCCBFT Chapter 135

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 135

Ever since that thought crossed his mind, Oliver couldn’t help but see his own likeness in this strangely shaped little wooden carving.

Only… it was a limited edition version with cat ears and a tail.

He blinked in disbelief.

It was truly hard to believe that the usually obedient slaves would suddenly, in private, use his image to create such… parodies? Deifications? Or some other peculiar thing.

To prevent this from being an illusion born of unconscious narcissism, he instinctively glanced at Fosse and handed him the wooden carving: “Fosse, what do you see?”

The stern butler merely gave it a brief glance, his originally soft deep green eyes instantly turning sharp.

“Who did this?”

He calmly scanned the room with his gaze, his voice low and tone even.

Yet it was filled with an intimidating aura that made one break out in cold sweat.

At least from Oliver’s perspective, the slaves were already kneeling on the ground in terror, their faces completely drained of color.

Fosse closed his eyes briefly and commanded succinctly: “Step forward.”

The effect was immediate.

Following the terrified confessions of the nearly frightened-out-of-their-wits slaves, the culprit was quickly identified.

“Arte.”

Oliver looked helplessly at the genius artist buried in his desk, busy illustrating intermediate textbooks, and waved the small wooden carving at him: “Why would you do such a thing?”

Indeed.

Such exquisite craftsmanship, even without depicting specific facial features, with such vivid posture – it could only be Arte’s handiwork.

Arte stared at the small carving and froze on the spot.

Under Fosse’s unfriendly glare, he suddenly slapped his forehead and chuckled awkwardly: “Y-Your Highness.”

Oliver smiled faintly and said patiently: “Go on, I’m listening to your excuse.”

Arte: “……”

The Baron soon confessed the whole story honestly.

Apparently, in the hearts of the Laina people, the gentle and kind divine messenger who had truly brought them happiness and beauty deserved to be worshipped alongside the deity by the faithful.

While they weren’t troubled by the Divine Statue being different from their imagined majestic grandeur – being firm believers in the great “Cat God’s” power – they were deeply saddened by the absence of the divine messenger’s statue in the Divine Temple.

Even if the divine messenger didn’t constantly accompany the deity, he absolutely deserved a place in the temple’s shrine!

Why had His Highness Oliver’s achievements been forgotten by the very deity who favored him most?

They simply couldn’t accept this.

Eventually, someone made this suggestion.

“If we can’t worship His Highness Oliver in the temple… why not ask Lord Arte for help!”

Since he was the Cat God’s messenger, deeply favored by the deity, it stood to reason that the divine messenger should possess the deity’s characteristics of “cat ears” and “cat tail.”

Without permission from Oliver or Fosse, Arte neither dared nor believed his current skills could adequately capture such breathtaking beauty, so he deliberately left the face blank to allow for imagination.

The wavy golden hair and elegant, well-proportioned figure were carefully carved with his knife.

Arte had initially thought “adding cat ears and tail to my muse might be quite interesting,” which is why he used his rare leisure time for this.

He did it casually.

Never expecting the result to be so impressive.

Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to destroy it, yet dared not keep it privately either—lest Fosse, who had long disliked him, would drive him out of Laina.

After much deliberation, he guiltily bestowed it upon the overjoyed slaves, letting them place it in their handmade shrine for worship.

After listening to Arte’s hesitant explanation, Oliver’s mouth twitched.

He felt nothing but amused exasperation.

While Arte was being scolded by Fosse with his head hung low—Fosse refrained from drawing his sword only because he knew full well his young master still needed Arte—Oliver happened to catch, from the corner of his eye, the silent Cat God swiftly reaching out like lightning and snatching away the small wooden carving.

Was this retribution?

Oliver massaged his forehead.

As the saying goes: he who plays with cats will be played by cats.

Now that he knew it wasn’t a prank but came from the sincere hearts of his people, he couldn’t handle it harshly.

Though extremely embarrassed, after some consideration, he decided not to stop this phenomenon.

After all, receiving genuine admiration from the common folk proved that his ongoing poverty alleviation efforts had been recognized—something he should rightly take pride in.

As for the small wooden carving being secretly taken by the Cat God…

He pretended not to know, merely covering it up as if he had confiscated it himself.

Seeing that Oliver showed no intention of holding him accountable, Arte breathed a sincere sigh of relief.

Partly out of genuine curiosity and partly to change the subject, he casually asked about other matters.

“Why cut off the seedlings’ roots?” After repeating the question, Oliver smiled and said, “To stimulate new root growth, of course.”

To many people, seedling roots are extremely fragile and shouldn’t be transplanted unless absolutely necessary.

When moving seedlings, one must dig out as much surrounding soil as possible and dig deep enough.

Such caution stems from concern about damaging the root system and affecting subsequent growth.

Yet in the diagrams Oliver had Arte draw, people were instructed to manually remove one-third to two-thirds of the roots!

Arte hesitated, “But, Your Excellency, why can’t we keep the original roots?”

Baron Arte, who once looked down upon those nobles in the royal city drowning in drunken revelry or obsessed with power, would never have dreamed he’d one day seriously consult the beautiful Muse about seedling problems.

Even the dullest person would gain basic understanding of planting and breeding after reading the knowledge contained in the “Primary Textbook.”

Let alone Arte, who had been (forced to) participate in compiling the textbook and drew so many illustrations for Oliver.

He had unconsciously absorbed much relevant knowledge, which led him to ask such questions now.

Oliver was pleased to see his eagerness to learn and carefully explained the reasoning.

The reason was simple: during the seedling stage, crops grow in narrow wooden boxes with limited soil, restricting root development.

Transplanting must be done on cloudy evenings, but with spring’s unpredictable weather, it’s easy to miss the optimal transplanting window and have to wait longer.

Doing so would likely cause the root systems to age prematurely before reaching the optimal transplanting timing.

If seedlings with aged root systems are transplanted, the subsequent growth of certain roots would undoubtedly be restricted, leading to poor upper plant development and ultimately reduced yield.

It would be better to remove the soil, directly trim part of the root system, and then transplant at 30-centimeter intervals.

Of course, this method isn’t suitable for all crops, but only for specific ones like edamame, peanuts, cabbage, and tomatoes.

While Oliver and Arte were deeply engrossed in their discussion, the deity who had been quietly sitting nearby suddenly lifted his gaze.

His previously relaxed upper body slowly straightened as he sharply tilted his head, seemingly sensing something as he looked toward the direction of the Divine Temple.

Noticing his sudden movement, Fosse couldn’t help but cast a scrutinizing look his way.

However, before Fosse could ask anything, this handsome, tall, yet extremely silent blond noble wordlessly stood up and gave him a slight nod.

Though he couldn’t explain why, Fosse miraculously understood his meaning instantly.

“Don’t disturb Oliver.”

This was exactly what Fosse hoped for as well.

So he slightly furrowed his brows without further questions, merely watching the blond youth’s sudden departure while feeling somewhat peculiar inside.

Why did it feel peculiar?

After brief consideration, Fosse was startled by the answer he arrived at.

This seemed to be… the first time he had seen… “Jin” voluntarily leave the young lord’s side.

In truth, with a deity’s abilities, he could completely change his location with just a slight thought.

But he was no longer the same as when he first came to Oliver’s side.

Although he could do so, it would definitely startle those around him and cause Oliver distress.

Just knowing this made him completely unwilling to do it.

Even if it was somewhat troublesome and he was feeling somewhat urgent, he still obediently followed human methods, walking to the Divine Temple.

As it was the busy farming season, slaves were still working in the fields, and most freemen were occupied with their livelihoods, leaving only scattered individuals praying with closed eyes in the outer temple.

If the deity wished, he could prevent anyone from detecting his presence.

Upon entering the temple and escaping human sight, he unhesitatingly transformed back into a golden mist form.

He swept inward and arrived before the shrine.

In front of the golden Divine Statue floated a… humanoid form emanating dark energy all over, with only an eerily pale face, appearing quite bizarre.

Also a body condensed from divine power.

“It’s you.”

The black figure suddenly spoke, its voice rough and hoarse.

He silently condensed into a human-shaped divine body as well, quietly locking eyes with this uninvited guest.

The other party didn’t seem to mind at all, merely examining his cat ears and long cat tail with interest, remarking: “I sensed it long ago, the birth of a powerful new deity… governing wealth, I presume? No wonder.”

He remained silent, staring unblinkingly at the other.

The shadow, however, sensed his growing hostility and smiled nonchalantly: “Deyth[mfn]戴夫(dài fū) – meant to sound like ‘death'[/mfn], that’s my name.”

A deity who governs death and is friends with the God of War, Vor[mfn]沃(wò) – meant to sound like ‘war'[/mfn].

“Don’t misunderstand, I have no interest in this shabby temple of yours,” Deyth shrugged. As one of the many deities who frequently walked the mortal realm and neglected their duties, he had inevitably picked up some human mannerisms, not bothering to conceal his malice as he spoke: “I just never expected my new ‘companion’ would be willing to stay in such a wretched place, sheltering a bunch of useless creatures, and even meddling in their affairs—”

His words cut off abruptly.

Just as Deyth casually rested his palm on what he considered a laughably ridiculous divine statue, an unprecedented burning sensation shot through his hand!

His eyes widened in shock, face contorting from pain he’d never experienced before as he snatched his hand back.

The originally night-dark ink-black color had “scalded” away, leaving a terrifying gaping hole in his “palm.”

—That was also part of his divine incarnation, his fundamental power.

His heart sank instantly, eyes turning wary and savage as he glared at the newborn deity who hadn’t spoken a single word to him from start to finish. He couldn’t suppress his rage as he growled, “What have you done!?”

He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.

Even if the other held the divine office of Wealth—significant enough to rank among the principal gods—as a newborn deity, the power they could accumulate was inevitably pitifully small. How could they compare to him!

Even among deities with equal divine power, it was impossible to inflict such burns on his divinely condensed form merely through power attached to a statue, without launching any attack!

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d suffered such a severe injury that struck directly at his Divinity.

The God of Wealth with strange cat ears now appeared utterly detestable yet profoundly mysterious in his eyes.

Faced with his furious questioning, the cat-eared deity who had remained silent throughout finally tilted his head in confusion.

It wasn’t him.

Although he genuinely disliked this “new companion”—and not in the ordinary way he disliked the chickens and pigs Oliver pampered.

The cat-eared deity’s ears twitched slightly, slowly flattening.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. He chose not to explain, only slowly opening his mouth to speak.

“Get lost.”

Unconsciously mimicking his beloved Oliver’s usual tone, he said it quite politely.

Then golden mist suddenly dispersed and reformed into a feline form. Before the stunned God of Death Deyth could react, he pounced with incredible agility, swatting at him with a speed the other couldn’t possibly match—just like swatting a fly.

…

Time flew by until Spring 40th, the day Laina City held its Spring Market.

Since most merchants were still on the road and would arrive over the next few days… the first day of the Spring Market was usually the quietest.

This year was different.

The merchants from Albury who had attended Laina’s Autumn Market last year and fortunately escaped the slave rebellion disaster went without saying.

They wisely used their savings to directly purchase shops in the plaza’s commercial district, giving them legitimate reasons to stay in Laina through winter while scouting for suitable houses in the residential areas.

Other merchants came from wealthy families and simply bought shops outright because they were optimistic about Laina’s development under its new lord.

When the bookseller Booke and other merchants arrived at the square where the Spring Market was held, they were astonished to find that many people had already set up shop ahead of them.

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