Simultaneous traversal: All Abyss difficulty.

Chapter 487 Spoiled Porridge Breaks Through Ten Thousand Armies!
"Report——!"

The messenger stumbled into the newly built "porridge palace," a few swollen grains of rice still stuck to the soles of his boots.

Fang Yu was studying the military strategy that Sun Qian had found for him when he saw the newcomer. He put the strategy down and said, "What's the panic? Those Vanuatu people who call every woman 'mama' are attacking? I'm in my Great Congee Kingdom! In Triangular Congee Kingdom, strength is the only thing that matters. I don't care if you're female or male!"

"No! It's the fields!" the messenger exclaimed excitedly, his words tumbling out incoherently. "All the saline-alkali land in the eastern suburbs has sprouted!"

Fang Yu sprang up with a somersault and rushed out of the hall in a flash of lightning!
When he leaped onto the city wall on the electric arcs, the sight before him filled him with immense excitement!
On the barren land that had been soaked by porridge, tender green rice seedlings were now sprouting from the soil! Thousands of farmers knelt on the ridges between the fields, some holding the damp soil and laughing and crying at the same time, while others kowtowed frantically towards the city wall.

"A divine master has appeared!" The white-haired old farmer trembled as he held up a rice seedling. "I've been farming for sixty years and I've never seen crops grow in saline-alkali land!"

Fang Yu suddenly remembered something and abruptly turned his head to look at the moat.

Sun Qian was directing three hundred strong men to use the clean water they had created to wash the city wall. The muddy water, mixed with rice paste, flowed continuously along the newly dug ditches towards the dried-up riverbed in the distance.

"I see." Fang Yu suddenly realized.

The porridge water, diluted with clean water, seeps into the soil, not only neutralizing the salinity, but also turning the remaining starch into natural fertilizer.

He suddenly grinned, cleared his throat, and said, "From this day forward, this place will be called the Kingdom of Porridge! The Kingdom of Triangular Porridge!"

The sound waves, accompanied by thunder, spread across the fields, startling flocks of sparrows.

The farmers looked at each other blankly, when a bold young boy shouted, "Master! What is triangular porridge?"

“That’s right…” Fang Yu suddenly stammered, he couldn’t very well say it was modeled after the Nile Delta in Egypt, could he? He quickly came up with a solution: “Because our region is a place where three powers are in a power struggle, and I am the Porridge Immortal, hence the name.”

"The Kingdom of Triangular Porridge!"

In the Southern Palace of Luoyang, Emperor Ling of Han, Liu Hong, kicked over a gilded table, spilling fine wine from the Western Regions onto the jade floor tiles, resembling a pool of congealed blood.

"Rebellion! They've all rebelled!" He grabbed a bamboo slip from the table and threw it at Zhang Rang. "My empire has produced a 'Porridge Immortal'? And he wants me to die?!"

Zhang Rang hurriedly knelt down to receive the bamboo slip, cold sweat beading on his forehead: "Your Majesty, please calm your anger. That sorcerer only knows some illusions."

"Bullshit!" Liu Hong suddenly grabbed Zhang Rang by the collar. A glint of shrewishness flashed in the eyes of this emperor who was usually indulging in wine and women. "A hundred thousand troops were drowned in porridge! You call this a smokescreen?" He shoved Zhang Rang aside and stepped barefoot through the wine stains. "Draft an imperial edict!"

Ten eunuchs hurriedly brought over a silk scroll, but Liu Hong snatched the vermilion brush and drew gruesome bloody marks on it:
By imperial decree: There are now sorcerers in Fangyu who, under the guise of the Yellow Heaven, are using porridge to deceive the masses.
He suddenly stopped writing here, turned to look at the rolling dark clouds outside the hall: "How should the reward be written?"

Zhao Zhong's eyes darted around: "How about we promise him the title of Marquis within the Pass?"

"Not enough!" Liu Hong plunged his vermilion brush into the silk, the ink spreading like a hideous ghost face. "Issue my decree: Whoever executes Fang Yu shall be granted the title of Marquis of Ten Thousand Households, and be rewarded with a thousand catties of gold and ten thousand shi of grain!"

On the city tower of Zhuoxian, Liu Bei stared at the newly posted imperial edict, his fingers unconsciously stroking the hilt of his sword.

Zhang Fei's thunderous voice boomed from behind: "Brother! This deal is a steal!"

"Third brother, be careful with your words," Liu Bei said softly, his gaze fixed on the words "Marquis of Ten Thousand Households."

Guan Yu narrowed his phoenix eyes slightly: "Judging from the fact that the porridge immortal can feed tens of thousands of refugees, he may not be a demon."

"Second Brother, you're foolish!" Zhang Fei ripped down the imperial edict. "Didn't you see it says 'Heaven is dead'? This is an attempt to sever the lineage of our Han dynasty!"

At the drill ground in Qiao County, Cao Cao crumpled the imperial edict into a ball.

Xi Zhicai coughed and asked, "Is Your Excellency interested?"

"What I need is a supply line capable of feeding a million soldiers." A wisp of blue flame flickered at Cao Cao's fingertip, burning the imperial edict to ashes. "Issue the order: march to Dongjun tomorrow!"

In the Nanyang Prefectural Governor's Mansion, Yuan Shu had one foot on the table, the golden patterns of the imperial edict reflected in his luminous cup. "Gonglu," he said, "I hate it when someone is better at pretending to be a charlatan than me." He suddenly crushed the cup. "Ji Ling! Gather three thousand sorcerers! I want that sorcerer to kneel and offer up his porridge-making technique!"

On the city wall of Zhougong, Fang Yu gazed at the dust rising on the horizon and suddenly laughed. Sun Qian rushed over: "Immortal Master! Scouts report that at least twenty vassal lords have been appointed..."

"Perfect timing." Lightning crackled in Fang Yu's palm, and the thousands of acres of porridge fields outside the city suddenly boiled. "I've been stockpiling porridge for half a month." He turned to the people in the city and grinned, "It's going to spoil!"

Bo Cai's flamethrower burst into flames: "This humble general requests to be the vanguard!"

Fang Yu, however, looked towards Luoyang and asked, "Tell me, isn't it extremely disrespectful to offer the emperor spoiled porridge?"

In an instant, the air was filled with the sour smell of porridge, and from afar, the cries of the allied forces of the feudal lords could be faintly heard amidst the dust and smoke.

Fang Yu's laughter, mingling with thunder, resounded through the sky:

"Everyone!"

"Watch as I break through ten thousand troops with my stale porridge!"

"Here comes the porridge!"

Thirty miles outside the city, the banners of the five Northern Army schools drooped listlessly in the hot wind.

General Lu Zhi covered his nose, his face ashen, as he watched the scouts thrashing about in the porridge.

The scout had just finished reporting the enemy situation when his warhorse suddenly slipped and fell into a three-zhang-wide ditch of porridge. He was vomiting as thick rice porridge was poured into his collar.

"General! This sorcery!" Before the lieutenant could finish speaking, he suddenly bent over and vomited a puddle of sour water mixed with rice grains.

Lu Zhi's black iron armor was covered in yellow and white stale porridge, and his helmet and phoenix wings had long been turned into pickled vegetables by the porridge waves.

He gazed at the shields floating on the sea of ​​porridge in the distance. They were originally meant to defend against arrows, but now they had become life-saving tools for the soldiers to prevent them from drowning in the porridge.

"Form ranks! Form ranks!" Lu Zhi roared, his voice choked with retching. "Raise your shields. Rumble. Defend against the porridge waves!"

No sooner had the words been spoken than a hundred-meter-high wall of porridge suddenly rose up on the horizon!
The porridge had an eerie dark green hue, with foam from fermentation floating on its surface. A sour, foul smell wafted in the wind, and the armor of the heavy infantry in the front row rusted at a visible rate.

"Mysterious Water!" The Taoist priest accompanying the army had just formed a hand seal and was chanting an incantation when suddenly a lump of spoiled porridge covered his mouth and nose, and the incantation instantly turned into a muffled "whoosh" sound.

“Wow——!!!”

The moment the porridge waves crashed down, the entire army looked like ants being soaked in a bucket of swill.

As soon as a captain opened his mouth to give orders, his throat was immediately filled with sour porridge. He clutched his neck and knelt down to cough, but as soon as he stuck his buttocks up, thin soup gushed out with a "plop," and yellowish-brown porridge seeped out from the gaps in his armor.

"Help! I can't swim!"

"My eyes! My eyes are pickled in porridge!"

Even more terrifying were those cavalrymen.

The warhorses neighed in terror as they were submerged in waist-deep stale porridge. Horse dung and porridge swirled together, and a village chief had just grabbed a horse's neck for help when the horse suddenly developed diarrhea. The scalding porridge, made from horse dung, seeped into his trousers through the gaps in his armor.

"咴咴——"

Suddenly, the warhorse reared up and threw the diarrhea-stricken village chief into the porridge. The unlucky fellow had barely thrashed around when his own warhorse sprayed his face with diarrhea.

Inside the palace, Emperor Ling of Han, watching the battle through a crystal ball, felt his legs go weak. He watched helplessly as 30,000 elite northern troops sank and floated in the sea of ​​porridge.
Some vomited violently, only to be forced to swallow more sour porridge; others vomited and defecated simultaneously, leaving long, yellowish-brown trails in the porridge waves; the worst off were the heavily armored soldiers, whose armor became sealed containers, the sour porridge fermenting and producing gas inside, occasionally bursting open with a "bang," spraying the surrounding people all over.

"If Your Majesty continues like this, that guy will fill the entire palace."

(End of this chapter)