Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

“A Sword…Sword Saint! Energy Swords? High-level Sword Saint!” A group of mounted sand thieves, staring at Luther on the sand dune in front of them, stuffing dried beets into his mouth and unleashing a Qi Sword with empty hands, all went weak in the knees.

An Energy Sword was a hallmark of a high-level Sword Saint. Was this nobleman before them merely another protagonist from a knight’s novel? Yet he seemed to be among those blessed with uncanny luck. Otherwise, how could he be a Sword Saint at his young age?

The sand thieves, who initially had come charging fiercely on horses, disarrayed in their panic. Some turned their horses around, fleeing in all directions, while the remaining ones fell off their horses and kowtowed with their hands held high, crying out, “We came to see off our distinguished guests; we wish you a pleasant journey.”

It was Luther’s turn to smirk, “You all seem quite welcoming. I enjoy this kind of fervor. So, let me show you my enthusiasm…” He started stuffing his mouth with beets again.

Lightning interrupted him, “You’re just seizing an opportunity to eat beets. These guys don’t require your full strength. If you don’t take action soon, the others will not be able to hold back.”

On the other side, the Little Zombie fought hard to hold back the Angel Skeleton. However, the Angel Skeleton forcefully threw him aside, stepped forward, and pushed with both hands. But nothing happened.

Looking baffled, he turned his head. Oh, where were his wings?

Angling his head in thought, he suddenly seemed to recall that Ange had taken his wings away. He rushed over to Ange, raising his hands above his head in a motion indicating flight and huffed twice.

Ange shook his head in response. The Angel Skeleton softly cried out, “Oh-”

Ange decisively responded, “Oh!”

The Angel Skeleton dejectedly turned away but instantly perked up. He raised his little fist, clutching the Holy Light, determined to blaze forward.

However, a glance revealed several corpses on the ground. Luther was chasing the fleeing sand thieves in the distance, his feet moving so fast that they left afterimages. He stirred up clouds of dust.

“Oh!” The Angel Skeleton was angry. It had been over a month since it had last fought someone. The Little Zombie had tried to hold it back and received a punch to the eye socket for his effort.

About ten minutes later, Luther came back empty-handed, a look of disdain on his face, “These guys don’t have a single copper coin on them. No wonder they turned to banditry.”

“How did you know they don’t have any? They probably just didn’t bring any. Who would bring money to a robbery?” Lightning retorted.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Depending on the situation, not only would some bring it, but they would also bring all their valuables because they don’t trust their partners. But none of these people brought any, either they’re poor or their gang is pretty steady, and trust has been established,” Luther explained.

“You seem to know a lot.”

“Of course, I once dreamed of becoming the King of Thieves. Sand thieves are still thieves.” Puffing his chest, Luther finished his piece and went behind the dunes to retrieve the horses and flags, “We may as well pose as sand thieves.

These guys were too weak.”

His proposal to pretend to be sand thieves was dismissed, but they did lead the horses away. Each one rode a horse, leading the rest on foot.

As he walked, Lightning grumbled, “Didn’t we agree that each of us gets a horse? Why are the three of you still riding me? Does Luther even count as a person?”

Carrying three passengers on his back and leading over a dozen horses, Lightning trekked toward the depths of the desert.

Absolutely nobody dared to venture into the desert like they did. Starvation and dehydration would claim the lives of an ordinary Sword Saint and Magic Tutor here.

But those rules wouldn’t apply to them. Only Luther and Lightning needed to eat and drink, and they had enough food stored in the Resting Camp to last them years. Water was also not a problem; Ange could conjure it on the spot.

Though the desert was deficient in Water Elements, Ange had an unlimited supply of Magic Power. Even if he could only conjure one droplet per second, he could still produce three thousand six hundred droplets in an hour. In twenty-four hours, that would be enough for Luther and Lightning to take a bath.

Actually, the daytime sun was their most significant discomfort. Ange was fine, but the Little Zombie and the Angel Skeleton were so sunburnt that their souls were wilting. The Little Sapling also withered, but they didn’t want to return to the Resting Camp. The lingering aura in the camp made them uncomfortable. Ange, who had acclimatized to it over a thousand years, was also reluctant to approach the palace.

Unless everyone returned, Luther and Lightning refused to budge. Lightning was firm, “Even if I, the Son of Thunder, die of sunstroke today and you bury me, I won’t step foot in there.”

Seeing the other two inert, Ange reluctantly called a halt, “Dig.”

The Little Zombie immediately perked up. He extended his palms, curved his fingers inward, and let his Soul Force rush forth. Soon, two pickaxes materialized in his palms.

With several scrabbles, he quickly dug a significant pit in the sand. However, due to the loose sand, the pit walls collapsed as it went deeper, forming a cone-shaped pit instead.

“Can’t you use the Ground Cracking Technique? Use it,” Negris’s voice echoed in Ange’s soul.

With a swoosh, Ange ducked down, and his legs sank into the sand up to his knees.

“Errr, your Ground Cracking Technique is designed to loosen elements, correct? You just need to do the opposite. Gather the Earth Elements, and you’ll solidify it. Solidification is the most basic Earth Magic,” Negris corrected him.

“Oh.” Ange cast a Solidification Technique on his feet, and the loose sand and gravel promptly solidified into blocks, encapsulating Ange’s legs.

Negris didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He couldn’t decide whether to call Ange stupid or smart. Ange could perform any magic he was taught, but he would make such elementary mistakes. If Ange was his student, Negris felt that his life would undoubtedly be cut short..