Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

The plague had already claimed over sixty lives in the underground city that only had a little over five thousand inhabitants. This was a tremendous loss, and the end was nowhere in sight. In the coming three to four days, the death toll was bound to peak.

If the trend continued, there might be one to two thousand deaths. Feilin was frantic, yet he had no good solution. There weren’t many healing mages in the underground city to begin with; it was impossible to save everyone. They could only watch helplessly as the patients died from the plague in isolation or were killed by skeletons when wandering outside.

Dying at home was allowed, but not leaving home. Despite his feelings, Feilin was clear about priorities. Even if one or two thousand people would die, they must stay indoors. At least this way, three to four thousand people could be spared.

However, he perceived that there were anomalies with the skeletons in a particular area. Someone had not only fled but also ventured into the Undead Temple, even managing to scare away his skeleton soldiers.

Feilin rushed over, not to scold, but to apologize. A sick person entering the Undead Temple was not a big deal. There were no living beings inside who could be infected, but it was rare for Lord Observer to stop his skeletons. Did this mean Lord Observer was upset?

Upon arriving and not finding anyone, he saw that the escaped patient was now sleeping with a healthy glow on his face.

Feilin was taken aback and thought of a possibility – Lord Observer had managed to cure the patient’s plague.

Feilin was full of regret. Why hadn’t he thought of asking Lord Observer for help? If there was anyone in the underground city who could possibly eradicate this plague, it was undoubtedly Lord Observer.

Normally, when the underground city had a disease outbreak, it was standard practice to quarantine. So naturally, he had acted accordingly without a second thought. But this time was different, Lord Observer was here.

He waited, and finally Ange returned, holding a bull’s skull.

“Um, Lord, did you go grave-digging? I have some well-preserved skeletons. I will bring them to you shortly.” Feilin seemed to misunderstand, responding agreeably, then immediately begged, “My Lord, please, save the underground city this time. Please sell me the miraculous medicine that cured that child.”

As he spoke, Feilin presented all the Soul Crystals he had gathered recently – roughly forty or so.

Ever since Feilin found out he could exchange Soul Crystals for food with Ange, he had gone above and beyond to gather them, exhausting his own reserves and even collecting from all the High-Order Undead in the city.

Soul Crystals could only be consciously refined by sentient Undead at the cost of their Soul Strength. Refining a single Soul Crystal required seven or eight days of rest. If you refined several, it would deplete a significant amount of Soul Strength, which could take one or two months to restore.

If there was a gain from using Soul Crystals, it wouldn’t be a big deal. But Feilin had used it to buy food which was of no use to the Undead. Naturally, this led to discontent among the Undead. Why should they deplete their souls to buy food for humans?

This required Feilin to practice a great deal of persuasive charm. He stated that human beings were the basis of society, the source of productivity. If there were only Undead left, the underground city would turn into a graveyard. With great difficulty, he finally pacified the Undead.

He managed to gather enough funds to buy food, only for the plague to strike. Now, Lord Observer had a way to treat it. There was no doubt it would cost a fortune. The rule of equivalent exchange was always adhered to by Lord Observer – if food was already so expensive, surely a lifesaving method would cost even more?

“I don’t need any money.” Ange refused the Soul Crystals, went about his own business, fetched a vat of moss watering, and began performing Purification.

“You don’t want money? Ah! Holy… Holy Light!” Feilin was shocked by Ange’s refusal to accept any money, then startled by the Purification spell’s glow in Ange’s hand.

Ange ignored him until he finished purifying the water, “This, cures dysentery.”

Feilin pointed at the vat of water, “Holy Light.” Then pointed at Ange’s hand, “Holy Light?” Lastly, he looked at Ange, “Holy Light!”

Holy Light instilled fear in the souls of all Undead. Even Feilin, a Witch who had lived for over a thousand years, was scared to the point of being only able to utter ‘Holy Light’.

Ange assumed that he was interested in Holy Light, so he held out his palm with a Purification spell inside it, revealing a sacred glow.

Instinctively, Feilin raised both hands to shield himself. But quickly, he noticed that the sacred glow from Ange’s hand did not have any uncomfortable effects on him.

In the past, emissaries from the Church of Light had set foot in the former World Transfer Station. Those arrogant people became subdued and cautious when stepping onto the king’s territory. However, their presence was always unpleasant and could not be completely dispelled.

The Holy Light from Ange’s hand did not emit any discomforting or disgusting effect.

Feilin lowered his hands and cautiously approached, finding that it actually didn’t harm him. Eventually, he couldn’t resist poking his finger into the glow.

He saw all the dirt and impurities on his finger were purified. When he pulled it out, a section of his finger turned white, like freshly peeled chicken claws, contrasting starkly with the rest of his hand.

Feilin awkwardly pulled his hand back into his robes. It was embarrassing because as a Witch, he could not take baths as the water would decay his flesh. Even when using magic to clean, it could only clear the dirt on the skin surface. Anything seeped into his cells could not be washed off but had to be air-dried.

Oh, there was another simpler method – bury it in Breathing Soil.

So how did a Witch usually clean his body?

They did the same as leather care – first dust off, then wipe, and finally apply some oil. Sheep oil works best for maintenance.

All of these cleaning and care methods did not make an Undead completely clean. Especially for a Witch who had lived for more than a thousand years. The stains were so thick that his original color could not be seen.

But now, with a single Purification spell, all the thousand years of dirt was cleansed. Only then did Feilin realize how dirty he had been. It was utterly embarrassing.

“No need for money. Just drive away the dysentery and bring people.” Ange pointed to the Undead Fire, a tribute to their faith on the altar. The soul energy donated by believers every day was far more valuable to Ange than these Soul Crystals.

Feilin left with gratitude. Originally, he had only come to try his luck, but the result had exceeded his expectations.

Although Lord Observer did not want any payment, Feilin felt obligated to show his gratitude. Recalling the cow skull that Ange was holding when he returned, he realized it was likely not for soup but had other uses.

So, Feilin ordered his people to bring the prized skeleton from his own collection and donate all of them to the Undead Temple.

While Ange was still puzzled with the mound of unidentified bones, a clean and attractive female Witch rushed in with Feilin, who she pulled along with gusto.

Upon verifying that Ange was indeed the one she was looking for, she pulled Feilin to her side, pointed at his differently colored finger, and hastily asked, “How… How did you do it? Could you teach me? I’d give you everything I have.”

With her words, a giant Soul Flame floated out and entered Ange’s body, imprinting another peculiar symbol onto his soul.