Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

Luther frowned as he observed, “Is this necessary? Is dealing with mages so difficult? Those swordsmen are all high-level, shouldn’t they fight back when attacked? At such a close distance, even a Great Magician is no match for a high-level swordsman, they could kill him with one squeeze.”

“What are you thinking about?” Lisa, who had just blinded a Great Magician with a flash of light and was enjoying herself, chimed in, “Most of these swordsmen survive by aligning themselves with mages. They and their families rely on mages for their salary. If you dare to kill the boss, his companions won’t let you off.”

“But isn’t it too disrespectful to kneel and apologize?” Luther couldn’t accept it.

“It’s very normal. These mages with badges have a long family history. Perhaps these followers’ ancestors have been associated with mage families for generations and have almost become like slaves. If your descendants are even slightly obedient, the mage will funnel more resources to them, making it easier for them to become high-ranking swordsmen. Under these circumstances, would you find your descendants disobedient?”

Luther nodded, “I see.”

“What do you understand?” Lisa asked, flabbergasted. She hadn’t said anything revealing.

“If we ever have to become followers, then it should be for Lord Ange. Lord Ange is so tolerant, he even spared the horse.” Luther declared emphatically.

Just then, a few followers from the crowd around the mage’s carriage dispersed, making their way to urge the leaders among the sand bandits to attack. The sand bandits reluctantly began to move.

“Here they come, everyone be ready,” Negris announced loudly. Glancing at Ange, he continued, “Ange is busy. Prepare for the worst case. If all else fails, grab Ange and run. Leave the rest to Naeli. You shouldn’t have to take such risks, but since it’s because of me, I’m grateful to all of you, regardless.”

“Lord Nage, you’re too polite. Why speak such words? If your beloved was in trouble, could we just stand by and do nothing? That would be too alienating.” Luther shook his head and said.

“Why doesn’t the mage do it himself? Lisa’s grandmother clearly provoked him. Shouldn’t he be angry? Then use advanced magic to summon a meteorite to crush us?” Anna was more curious about another matter.

She had hardly finished speaking when she was slapped on the head by Lisa, “Don’t call me grandmother, call me lady!”

Feilin explained, “The higher the level of magic, the longer it takes to cast and prepare. Unless we’re surrounded, even the highest level magic spells can’t be cast.”

“Also,” Negris added, “Naeli hasn’t acted yet. No one dares to cast such time-consuming magic spells under the watchful eye of a giant dragon.”

Cajoled by the mage’s followers, the sand bandits sluggishly began their assault.

If Ange continued to remain motionless, everyone was prepared to flee with him.

Just then, Ange, who had been holding his seizuring posture, suddenly straightened. An invisible force emanated from him, spreading out – signalling the arrival of a king.

Joining him in rising to their feet were the five to six hundred intact corpses in the ditch in front of the position. Those who weren’t intact couldn’t stand up and could only crawl on the ground.

The two iconic skills of the King-class skeleton, the King’s Arrival and the Scythe of Death, had finally all awakened in Ange.

The sand bandits, who had been surging forward, were stunned at the sight of the rising corpses, their faces drained of color. Some turned to run, while others gritted their teeth and rushed forward, their sword striking down on a corpse’s shoulder.

The corpse, with half of its shoulder chopped off, looked blank-eyed as it nonchalantly stabbed the offender in the stomach.

The opponent fell weakly to the ground, and the half-shouldered corpse pulled out its weapon. With its incomplete body, it slowly lumbered forward.

These corpses were not fast, nor skilled in combat, but they completely ignored attacks. Even if an enemy chopped off their head, they would still, with their headless body, stab at the enemy.

Once the enemy they stabbed was completely dead and turned into a corpse, the corpse would also rise from the ground.

It was quite frustrating: being killed and then turned into a sort of living dead, continuing to fight until cut into pieces by one’s own side?

Those heavily armored shield-bearers and swordsmen suddenly moved, surging forward like a swarm of bees. They climbed over the wall and fell clumsily into the ditch.

The corpses in the ditch, with a flurry of limbs, pushed these heavily armored fighters out of the ditch. As they steadied themselves, Ange also climbed over the wall. With a mighty leap, pushed by wind element behind him, he glided over the ditch and landed in front of the heavily armored troops.

He swung the Scythe of Death lightly. The sand bandits, four or five in front of him, all fell to the ground, lifeless, though seemingly unharmed, and without a single sign of life.

On the Scythe of Death, four or five Soul Fires appeared.

Ange stomped heavily on the ground, and the recently fallen corpses, as if struggling, slowly began to rise.

Negris was about to reprimand Ange for abandoning the position to confront the enemy head-on in a situation that didn’t give him the upper hand. It was a dangerous move, but now he too was rendered speechless in shock:

“Now I understand why the Scythe of Death and the King’s Arrival are the two hallmark skills of the Golden Skeleton. The bodies of those whose souls are reaped by the Scythe of Death can be directly summoned by the King’s Arrival. My God, these are the most perfectly complementary skills.”