Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

“No, no, no, it’s nothing serious. Our kids are just curious, they want to see some plant seeds exclusive to the oasis. If you don’t have any, it’s fine.”

What is Erik? A wily old desert trader, of course. He immediately saw through the deceptive words of the sand-dweller but decided to play along: “And what about you? What are you doing here?”

“Building a road for you lucky folks. Once it’s done, it will greatly increase your travel speed to the oasis,” replied the sand-dweller.

“A road? You…” Erik was on the verge of losing his cool and slapping this lier. What a load of crap! Building a road in the desert? Who would come up with such a ludicrous idea? If you want to deceive someone, at least show some respect to the deceived – does any sane person actually believe in such a lie?

“You don’t believe me?” The sand-dweller noticed Erik’s expression, and immediately became defensive: “If you don’t believe me, come see for yourself.”

Erik cautiously moved to the edge of the sand dune, looking down.

There he saw a road extending from the distant horizon to the foot of the sand dune. At the front of the road, two “human” wizards were casting spells, constantly shooting magic into the sand. When the sand reached saturation, it would suddenly sink, hardening into a hefty sandstone surface.

On both sides of the sandstone road, the sand-dwellers were carrying rolls of grass mats, spreading them on the sand at fixed intervals and watering them down.

On the completed sections of the road, carriages were constantly going back and forth, delivering water and more grass mats. Judging from their efficient movements, the sand-dwellers had clearly repeated these actions many times.

“You… you really built this road… Are… Are you insane?” Erik said in disbelief.

The sand-dweller swiftly unsheathed his sword halfway, and snapped: “Who are you calling insane!?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it that way… I meant, building a road in the desert… it will be covered by sand dunes in just a few days.” Erik quickly apologized and clarified.

He too realized that he had misspoke. The two wizards constructing the road were obviously incredibly powerful. They could shape an entire stretch of road without breaking a sweat. To call such wizards insane was clearly a death wish.

The sand-dweller realised Erik’s misstep, otherwise his sword wouldn’t have been drawn only halfway.

“That’s where you’re wrong. See those grass mats? Once they’re placed at those fixed intervals, the sand dunes from the roadside can’t cross over,” the sand-dweller explained, arrogantly.

“But… but just laying it like that, wouldn’t it wither and die from the heat before even having a chance to take root?” Erik seemed worried.

“No worries, we have the protection of the Undead God. The grass won’t wither,” the sand-dweller boasted, beating his chest triumphantly.

“Huh? The Undead?” Erik quickly responded, was it the Undead he was thinking of?

“Yes, that Undead. The one that makes plants flourish, no matter how much they’re exposed to the sun.” the sand-dweller confirmed.

Wait a minute… Are you sure you got that right? Isn’t ‘Undead’ supposed to mean ‘immortal’ instead of ‘sun-resistant’?

‘Undead’ is a sensitive word, Erik even dared not argue with the sand-dweller about it. He just asked the sand-dweller if his trading caravan could pass. Once given permission, he signaled to his companions in the distance and then refocused his gaze on the road construction.

“Huh? Juvenile Dragons? Four of them?” Erik only just noticed the three juvenile dragons and a little girl frolicking back and forth on the road. The fourth juvenile dragon was bickering with one of the wizards on the front line, the one arrogantly looking down his nose.

“You said you’d be our indentured servant for two years. Does that mean you get to lounge about, eat and drink without working?” Negris huffed at Brooks

Exhausted and panting, Brooks retorted somewhat weakly: “I thought that by ‘indentured’, you meant something more along the lines of occasionally lifting a finger in a fight when a strong enemy comes along.”

“What do you mean? Are you mocking me? Are you suggesting that all I do is talk a big game? Do you believe me now that I’ve ordered White Neck to beat your son?” Negris stared fiercely.

Naturally, White Neck was the silver dragon egg. Like its mother, it had a few white scales around the throat and so, in keeping with tradition, was given its mother’s name. The only difference, Little White Neck was a male.

Silver dragons are brawlers, whereas gold dragons are magic-experts, hence in similar sizes, a gold dragon is always prone to getting thrashed.

Furious, Brooks glared, but against the ancestral deceit of the Dragon Clan, he, as the Clan Leader, had no better move other than to huff and puff.

Naeli’s great-grandmother was already aged enough, yet Negris was from an even older generation. Furthermore, apart from the mythical Dragon God, he was the only dragon to light the Divine Fire, a feat that demanded tremendous reverence.

If Negris decided to return to the Dragon Clan, it was unclear whether the other giant dragons would obey him.

Frustrated, Brooks helplessly said, “You shouldn’t have deceived me like this.”

“When did I deceive you? Weren’t you the one who said, ‘Whatever work Ange does, I will do the same’? Weren’t those your words?” Negris shot back.

“I… I…” Brooks stuttered. Those were indeed his words, but who could’ve imagined that Lord Ange was such an extreme workaholic?

He had initially assumed that as a High True Strength wizard, he could easily finish any task that others would labor over for a year with just a spell or two. He could definitely accomplish anything ordinary people could.

However, who would have thought that this Lord Ange was a maniac – working non-stop, day and night, for 24 hours on end, even outdoing the one-off slaves.