[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re":3,"chapter-the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-145":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","The Vegetable-Growing Skeleton's Foreign Land Reclamation",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2351626,4600,"Chapter 145: The Place of Slumber Has Vanished","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-145",145,"\u003Cp>Brucek was dragged away by the ears, weeping, along with the mother dragon clutching the tiny golden dragon she refused to let go—no one dared reason with a mother who had incubated an egg for five hundred years, nearly lost her child, and then suddenly regained it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brucek hugged Negrilis, reluctant to let go: “Farewell, Ancestral Master, I am ashamed I cannot fulfill my promise, I can no longer live this free life, waaahhhhh…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negrilis snapped: “Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out! I knew you were too eager—no questions asked, just sold yourself—turns out you had this in mind all along. Get out, you can’t do this, you can’t do that, you’re useless.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brucek’s eyes filled with tears: “Ancestral Master, you could plead for me—use your authority as the God of Knowledge…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Not familiar. Won’t speak.” Negrilis waved a tiny claw, firmly refusing, then added: “Show me one of your hairs. Let me see if your dragon shape-shifting passes muster.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The topic shifted too abruptly; Brucek was dazed. Was the Ancestral Master checking homework? Why now, after all this time?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Confused, Brucek plucked a hair and handed it over. The hair slowly reformed into a palm-sized scale.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negrilis nodded in satisfaction: “Good. Excellent. You’re a qualified chieftain. Go now—the Dragon Island still needs your protection.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, Ancestral Master.” Brucek felt warmly encouraged, as if praised by a revered elder. He turned to leave, then suddenly remembered something and spun back—only to see Negrilis holding his scale in a tiny claw, grinning like a thief who’d stolen a chicken.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A strange unease stirred in Brucek’s chest, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. He finally voiced his reason for turning back: “Ancestral Master, where is Baihou? I’d like to bring him back to the Dragon Island too.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negrilis’s smile vanished. “Dream on. Twenty thousand magic crystals for sacred essence fluid, over ten thousand for life essence, two days of continuous casting, scroll-grade precision to resurrect the cub—you didn’t even pay for your own. Now you want to take Baihou too?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Knowing he owed money, and that his wife had dragged him off mid-sale, Brucek dared say nothing more and flew away with the mother dragon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mid-flight, Brucek’s heart lurched—he finally realized what was wrong: his scale! Oh no! The cub was grown from tissue inside the egg, then had its consciousness transferred.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If his scale fell into the Ancestral Master’s hands, what if it could grow into a cub? He’d never wash away the shame—even if he jumped into the Frozen Ocean.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Watching the joyful mother dragon ahead, Brucek hesitated, then said nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The mother dragon believed the golden cub hatched from the egg. If she learned the egg had been shattered, and the cub grown from a piece of flesh… who knew how she’d react? Better not stir up trouble.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Besides, he clung to hope: Ang had grown from egg tissue—scales shouldn’t grow into cubs. Of course, if he knew how Negrilis came to be, he might think differently.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The thought of dozens of golden dragons, all identical to him, appearing on the Dragon Island—what if the mother dragon didn’t know which one to tear apart first?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hmm… now that he thought about it, maybe it wasn’t so bad.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With a troubled heart, Brucek followed the mother dragon far into the distance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Watching the two figures vanish beyond the horizon, Negrilis sighed. Though he constantly complained Brucek was “this can’t, that can’t,” in truth, having a Truth Master stationed here was like adding a super defensive array to the Oasis. Any would-be invader would think twice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brucek’s role was essentially a trump card—giving Negrilis confidence. Even in the direst moments, he could protect Ang’s safety.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now Brucek was taken away—this defensive array was gone. If a strong enemy appeared, everyone would be on their own.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Negrilis cheated and plucked a scale—this could become a trump card in a pinch.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negrilis tossed the scale to Ang: “Try it. Can you use it to transform into Brucek?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang tried, then shook his head: “No. I don’t know him well.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t know him well? You mean affinity?” Negrilis pondered, then understood: “Can you increase affinity?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang tilted his head: “Try.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He gestured, then wedged the palm-sized scale between his ribs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a night of effort, dawn began to lighten. Luo Ge dared not march under the sun—over three thousand undead would be roasted alive. Unless forced, they always moved by night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After shifting a short distance, they settled among another dune, setting up shade as the sun rose. They pulled out black wool blankets or similar thick, opaque cloth, laid them on the ground, weighted the corners, then covered them with thin sand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then they crawled through holes dug in the edge, peering out through the openings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was a perfect undead shelter method—they feared neither heat nor scorching sand. Even if the sand reached seventy or eighty degrees, it affected them not at all. Breathability? Irrelevant.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang returned for these undead in the Dark City. They couldn’t leave, so Ang had no rush to return. He spent minutes crafting a sunken sandstone chamber with magic, then set up his stall there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All undead infected with the death pathogen came in order to receive treatment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The undead’s hygiene was dismal. Once dead, you no longer smell stench, feel itch, pain, or stickiness—your urge to clean yourself plummets. Especially if your body was already damaged, you’d just patch it with rags and pretend it wasn’t there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most undead wore bandages and decorative inlays. Once removed, their bodies were horrific.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Poor hygiene let the death pathogen thrive. Nearly every undead bore some infection—some severe, with rotting flesh and corroded bones; others milder, but all had lost their hair.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Each undead radiated despair, hopelessness, and depression—they’d been broken by the pathogen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negrilis was stunned: “This pathogen is truly vile. If you can’t purge it, you’re forced to watch yourself rot until you’re nothing but a head—like a gold tooth. Terrible.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Negrilis spoke, a half-faced undead sat across from him. He forced a smile: “Yes, yes, terrible. If you rotted completely, fine—but rotting down to just a head, and still not dying? Terrible.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Heh, you needn’t fear. When you’re just a head, you’re already dead—your soul isn’t in your head.” Negrilis chuckled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The undead thought a moment, then nodded: “True. I’m a lich—I don’t have to worry. Haha, thanks for reminding me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Good attitude. What’s your name?” Negrilis asked. By now, Ang had already begun treatment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lisha could heal too—but facing thousands of infected liches in the Dark City, she wisely did nothing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Humans don’t fear poverty—they fear inequality. If no one could be healed, fine. But if healing existed, and couldn’t reach everyone quickly, problems arose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If fighting broke out over treatment, Philin couldn’t guarantee Lisha’s safety. So she handed the task to Ang—only Ang could heal them all, nonstop, in a short time.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The lich, distracted by Negrilis’s words, didn’t notice Ang’s healing. He replied: “My lord, I am Konab, a handsome bard.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Uh… I know bards. But why ‘handsome’?” Negrilis asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Huh? Not allowed? That’s my greatest trait—like your wisdom and brilliance, obvious to anyone!” Konab said earnestly, his expression impossible to read—was he flattering or sincere?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negrilis laughed until his face bloomed: “Hahaha! Young man, sharp eyes—you saw my wisdom and brilliance at once! Excellent! Yes, you can count as handsome.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Konab thought Negrilis was being polite—until he felt his face strange. The sunken, rotting patches slowly swelled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He raised a hand to touch it—and froze, trembling. Was this his hand? Rough, yet alive, with skin and flesh—was this really his hand?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He crossed his hands, then pressed his waist. His clothes hid it, but half his waist had rotted away, exposing his spine. Once called “wolf-waist” in life, now he barely had a waist left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pressed—and felt solid flesh, not hollow. His waist had regrown, unnoticed. So had every other damaged, rotting part.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I… this… but…” Konab stammered, speechless. In just a few minutes, a lich half-rotted, nearly buried, had returned to his former handsome, dashing form. Was this a miracle? Was this a miracle?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He stared at Ang, mouth open, choked with emotion, unable to speak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang grabbed his collar and tossed him out: “Next.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Outside, a murmur erupted. Those who recognized Konab screamed. Luo Ge had said they’d be treated for the pathogen—but never said they’d regain their living forms.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang didn’t care about their emotions. He only purified the pathogen. The flesh restoration was a side effect of the Cleansing Spell—not his doing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Lisha and the others arrived, they saw chaos: undead still unhealed crowded before the chamber under the blazing sun, staring eagerly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Occasionally someone cut the line, fought—and Luo Ge would arrive, beat the fighters, then shove them to the back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On the other side, healed liches gathered, excitedly talking. Konab propped up a wooden pole, stood atop it, and sang a newly invented hymn with dramatic flair:\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Great Lord Ang, he holds the Light of Cleansing, healing wounds… He stands eight feet tall, noble and handsome, his body a pillar holding up heaven and earth, his gaze lightning piercing the fog…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lisha’s eyes sparkled: “A bard? Perfect. I want him.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She dashed into the chamber: “My lord, why are you hiding in here? Such a perfect chance to display miracles! The Holy Church would announce healing events half a month early, so the whole village could witness and absorb faith!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My lord, if we don’t seize the high ground of faith, our enemies will. Don’t think it’s troublesome—you don’t need to prepare. Just act, and it’s a miracle. You don’t need to perform—your actions write epics.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Even if you don’t care about faith, more soulflame won’t hurt—otherwise, your Death Aura won’t activate.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lisha had mastered the art of persuading Ang. Mentioning soulflame and aura—Ang finally stood.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He left the chamber, rearranged the grounds, and built a sand mound into a high platform. He sat atop it. One undead after another climbed the stairs. From every angle, Ang’s actions were clearly visible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lisha found Konab, subtly revealed a touch of Cleansing Spell’s holy light, pulled out a vial of Sleep Elixir, made him sniff it, then produced a pouch of gold coins, smiling: “Interested in becoming a Holy Bard, spreading the glory and deeds of my Lord?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From dawn to dusk, lich after lich was healed. The camp rang with laughter—laughter of relief, of renewed hope.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Luo Ge felt relief too. These people of the Dark City were his heavy burden, the main reason he’d wanted eternal sleep. Though Anthony erased some memories, if the burden remained, he’d eventually sink back into depression—and never escape.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now it was gone. Ang healed them all. Lisha clearly wanted to take them. His burden was lifted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, by the way, since I can’t go back anyway, I don’t need this key to the Place of Slumber. Here, my lord—maybe you can use it.” As he spoke, Luo Ge pulled a soulflame from his soul.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Place of Slumber? What’s that?” Negrilis asked. Ang tilted his head in confusion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Huh? The Place of Slumber—the place where undead souls sleep in eternal rest. That endless field of tombstones. We Black Knights are the night watchmen of the Place of Slumber.” Luo Ge said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since Luo Ge had sworn loyalty, Ang could safely bring him into the Palace of Rest. He shoved him inside, then followed his guidance to the right side of the palace.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There stood a fence, and a broken iron doorframe—but the door was gone. Behind the fence, everything had vanished. Only void remained.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You mean, behind this fence was once a vast graveyard? The Place of Slumber?” Negrilis asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes. Where’s the Place of Slumber? Why is the Palace of Rest so much smaller?”\u003C\u002Fp>",1971,"2026-06-21T03:18:43.177Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","5e59a61b05a3cf12725928c8fdb5237d7d29d49d080e4122baad14559f680077","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-146","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-144",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-cover.jpg"]