Outworld Liberators-Chapter 158: Treating Gods and Mortals the Same Way

Blessedgrove Fortunecrest Empress Jalin arrived next, her entourage quieter, smoother, dressed in hues that suggested orchards and gentle herbs.

She stepped forward herself, not letting a servant steal the moment.

"This junior greets senior Eldric," she said, voice respectful and measured.

"No need for formalities," Eldric replied. "We are all on the same side."

Jalin smiled and presented her gift. When the lid lifted, the scent of living soil rose into the air. Inside were seeds.

A million of them, sorted in nested trays. Ten thousand varieties of spirit plants, each one a promise waiting for water and patience.

"I was about to give senior plants," Jalin said, and nodded toward the terraces where greenery had already been coaxed into order. "But when I looked at your work, I thought it best to show sincerity through seeds. You grow plants well. If possible, I would like our peaks to exchange knowledge."

Eldric’s eyes softened a fraction, the way a man’s eyes softened when he was handed a tool he would actually use.

"I appreciate your insight. Yes, such exchanges are all for the betterment of the realm. Pick a fine day, young miss," he said.

Jalin blushed at being called a young miss. She had not heard such words for a very long time. She coughed to hide her embarrassment.

"Senior, this junior is already seven hundred ninety two years old."

Eldric shook his head, as if helpless and confused.

"Alas. I thought you were a noble young lady. This old man had been eluded by your grace. Come. Refreshments inside await you."

Lenderstone of Vaultspire Emperor Gregodor arrived like an accountant arriving at a funeral. Old, bony, and alert.

Two abacuses hung at his waist, clicking faintly as he walked, as if they kept counting even when he tried to stop.

He did not greet Eldric immediately. He looked around the arena. He looked at the flow of people below, the gates, the stalls, the screens that flickered like quiet gods.

"Fellow Eldric," Gregodor said at last, "this old man is rather impressed by these screens. Is it an individual artifact, or an array? Maybe a collaboration if we can have such nifty boards in the right price."

Eldric’s smile stayed kind. His eyes stayed firm.

"Fellow Gregodor, I am not here to make the terraces compete with you all. I did this for the betterment of the realm."

Gregodor huffed like he did not believe in betterment unless it came with interest.

"Still, everything looks well done. I will give it a nine out of ten. Here."

His gift was simple. An unadorned box the size of two heads, and the light inside caught every greedy eye nearby.

A hundred high-grade spirit stones, clean and bright, the kind that made cultivators swallow without meaning to.

Eldric lifted his brows, then inclined his head.

"Such generosity. Bless you and Lenderstone of Vaultspire. Refreshments await inside."

Gregodor waved a hand, already bored of praise, and his younger people followed him in.

They carried tablets and scrolls and wore the strained look of those who were still doing projections while walking.

Crateyard Bulkstock Summit Emperor Agrippino arrived with a roar of wings and scales.

Huge sky snakes swooped in overhead, and the air stirred with their passage. His people dropped tons of array supplies down onto the stone.

One crate bounced. Another scraped too close to the grass edging the path.

Agrippino’s face darkened, and his temper burst out like a misfired talisman.

"Not the grass, you idiots. You want him to turn you to skeletons now, eh."

A few heads snapped toward Eldric. Agrippino caught himself, and gave Eldric an awkward smile.

He exhaled and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Sorry for the grass, senior Eldric."

Eldric glanced at the scuffed edge, then back at Agrippino.

"Does the grass have more value than what you carried?"

Agrippino burst into laughter, loud and pleased, and slapped his leg.

"You see this. Senior Eldric is one of us. Hoarders."

His men roared with him, the chant rising without shame.

"Hoarders. Hoarders. Hoarders."

Eldric waved them toward the entrance like an indulgent host pretending he did not enjoy the noise.

"The gift is much appreciated. You have come far. Enjoy yourselves. Refreshments await inside."

Agrippino threw both hands up.

"Hear that, boys. Free stuff."

The entourage surged after him with delight, answering like a pack.

"Free stuff. Free stuff. Free stuff."

Craftsworth of Guilds Peak Emperor Calixtus arrived in the wake of that chaos, wearing a look like a man who regretted sharing the same sky.

He sighed once, slow, then stepped forward and offered sealed boxes.

Inside were ores and smelting materials, each piece wrapped and labeled, the kind of strange metal that made artificers itch.

"These are special ores, Master Eldric," Calixtus said. "I know your peak has expertise in such crafts. I wish to see what you can make with these."

Eldric’s gaze lingered on the boxes with honest interest.

"This old man has been fond of artificing for a long time," he said. "I appreciate the gift. Come inside. Enjoy yourselves."

After the Summit Emperors, the City Lords flew in bearing gifts of their own. Eldric greeted them all with the same even warmth.

Most of them were only a few hundred years old, still young. They thought their face was not enough, but Eldric knew each of them by name, even their sons and grandsons.

This was plain sincerity, face given, and respect that transcended ages. Even the City Lords who were out back began adding money from their own pockets as gifts.

They wanted ties with Eldric. Even a small enlightenment through the way of cultivation was already a massive boon, and these meager stones could not buy such chances, not even if you knelt to the sky and kowtowed for a century.

The township leaders came last. They arrived with smaller bundles and bigger nerves, shoulders tight, eyes darting as if expecting to be ignored.

They were mortal, and mortals learned early where they stood in rooms like this.

They thought they would not be greeted.

Eldric stepped toward them anyway and took their hands one by one. His palm was warm. His grip was gentle.

Their surprise showed on their faces before they could swallow it down.

Some of them smiled like children. Some blinked hard and looked away.

They did not know what he did to them.

Eldric knew mortals in this era could not take care of themselves, if their bodies were not betraying them from the inside.

As he touched them, he stole vitality from what was killing them quietly.

Cancer cells shrank and went withered. Breath came easier. Backs straightened without understanding why.

The township leaders walked into the arena feeling blessed by a simple handshake.

Eldric watched them go with that same grandfather smile. Calyx stood beside him in black and gold.

Watching Eldric, Calyx understood one thing. He wanted a puppet like this for himself, for menial tasks.

This kind of mannered convenience could win wars without swords being drawn.