Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

Of course, Negris was just bluffing. If it dared to chew up all of the saplings,

Ange would string it up and have the Angel Skeleton zap it with a Holy Light Flash.

The negotiation phase commenced after that. But the Elf Queen revealed a shocking piece of news: “Someone has already sold us a World Tree sapling. They’ve won our friendship. Yours is the second one, so…”

Though she didn’t finish her sentence, Negris knew what she was implying. She wanted to haggle over the price. Who sold the World Tree sapling to the elves? Negris had a bad feeling about this.

“Who sold us the sapling? I’m sorry, but I can’t divulge a friend’s information,”

Gailard replied.

“Just tell me what race they are,” Negris requested.

Upon learning that the seller was a Goblin, Negris was filled with rage: Goblin!

Goblin! As expected, it was a Goblin, the damn silver coin-stealing fiend! Wasn’t he afraid of being caught and having his memories searched, thereby exposing us?

No, he wouldn’t be. He was connected to Ange through a spiritual bond. He could ask Ange to protect his spirit at any time.

Impressive! As expected of the Goblin Swindler. He had considered all aspects. No wonder he got there first. Negris had to admit defeat.

Since the first sale had been snatched away, they wouldn’t be able to demand a high price. Negris tentatively asked, “So, how much are you offering for the second World Tree sapling?”

As Negris was haggling with the Elf Queen, Ange, seemingly unbothered, extended his hand into the Temple of Rest, tending to the fields at the farm. His hand floated about aimlessly in the air, embodying an uncanny charm.

For him, the Elf Queen, the World Tree, the friendship of the elves, the believers, the Soul Flame — these were all insignificant. As long as the tree could grow and provide food, he was satisfied.

His life wasn’t any different from when he was in the Temple of Rest — sowing seeds, watering, fertilizing, pollinating, harvesting. The Instant Death Halo simply sped up the process.

Even without the halo, ‘normal’ farming seemed fine.

If a bard were to write his biography, they could only write: Farming, mediating, farming, mediating, fighting the Little Zombie, farming… Poor bard.

Each seed was precisely placed in its respective spot, following straight rows. Even in the un-raked fields, the straight lines were visible, as precise as when they were harvested.

After sowing the seeds, Ange moved his hand to the side of the field and cast a pollination spell. The earth soared into the air and sprinkled across the field, soon forming a thin layer. Then he watered it.

The procedure was seamless and exceedingly precise — like the flowing of clouds and water.

This field had been completely sowed. His hand continued to float as it moved to the next field. The seedlings there had already started to sprout. Tiny green tips poked through the soil, covering the entire terrain. It was time to water them.

As he was floating about, Ange suddenly stopped and tilted his head. It seemed like he heard something.

He pondered for a moment, then projected his consciousness into the Temple of Rest, manifesting an illusion of himself inside.

The farm remained silent, the wind still gentle, no different from the thousand years before. However, when he listened closely, he seemed to hear something.

Strain-.

Strain- to – grow-.

Strain – to – grow – grow -.

Pop!

A noise that sounded like something rupturing, to which Ange instinctively looked and saw a sapling sprouting its first pair of leaves.

Ange floated over to inspect it and was surprised to find it was a World Tree.

Initially, to test the optimal growing conditions for the World Tree, Ange had tossed one of the saplings into the Temple of Rest. The next day, he found it wilting. He didn’t pay much attention to it after that, but after all this time of neglect, it had sprouted leaves?

Could those ‘noises’ have been emitted by this Little Sapling?

These weren’t actual sounds, but more like faint signals — similar to a Wraith’s wails. They were subconscious information. This was the first time he could perceive them so clearly.

Ange squatted down, hugging his knees as he observed it.

Dry-.

It truly was the Little Sapling emitting those signals. Ange felt it expressing that the ground was too dry, because of his observance, he had forgotten to water it.

After giving it a good soak, Ange proceeded to water the rest of the plants. No matter how curious he was, the vegetables still needed to be cared for, right?

Strain – to – grow, strain – to – grow.

After being watered, the signals from the Little Sapling became clearer. Despite ‘straining’ for a while, there seemed to be no change. Yet, when he looked at the seedlings he had just watered, he saw that they had all grown a section taller, unveiling their first set of leaves.

Ange tilted his head, feeling he had understood something. The Little Sapling’s strain was not for itself, but urging the nearby crops to ‘strain’. The wetness beneath it was greater than the surrounding areas. It hadn’t absorbed the water he had just poured, so it’s ‘dry’ signal wasn’t about itself, but the other plants.

Therefore, this tree might not need water or nutrients. The crops’ ‘growth’ was its nourishment.

The World Trees outside were the same, except this tree could emit some information, making Ange more certain. It seemed that the conventional method of planting could not be used for this tree.

Strain – to – grow. Strain – to – grow. Strain – to – grow…still not growing.

While Ange was deep in thought, the Little Sapling’s signals were becoming stronger, startling him awake. Along with the ‘grow’ signal, there was also a hint of sadness enclosed within it..