[{"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-163":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},2351644,4600,"Chapter 163","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-163",163,"\u003Cp>On the surface of the Donghe River, countless boats—large and small—were packed tightly together, some with sails, some rowed, some drifting downstream; aboard them were emaciated, barely clothed humans, men and women, old and young, all like refugees fleeing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Donghe was not an official name; it referred to the river flowing in from the east into the Falling Dragon Lake, narrow, no more than twenty meters wide.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The water was not deep either, only suitable for various medium and small flat-bottomed boats, yet the journey was far from smooth—some sections were too shallow, requiring haulers or small boats to drag them through.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If it was a medium-sized boat or a covered small boat, it was bearable—there was shade from the blazing sun; if it was an open boat, those aboard could only cover their bodies and heads with cloth and splash river water to cool down, enduring it all.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Repeatedly doused and baked under the sun, their skin cracked and peeled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The lead medium-sized vessel was a sailboat, the largest in the entire fleet.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A figure in a black cloak, completely shrouded, stood at the rail, anxiously gazing into the distance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Behind him stood several black-armored knights in full knightly attire, though their armor was faded, patches peeling off here and there, looking worn and patched.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One knight spoke up: “My lord, is there really food here? Food enough to feed ten thousand people? I heard the water of the Falling Dragon Lake is salty.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The cloaked figure replied: “Of course there is. The land here is flat, reeds grow thick—cultivation is theoretically possible. Find a village, see if they’ve planted anything, and you’ll know if it can be grown. Even if nothing grows, the fish and shrimp in this river can keep everyone alive—better than staying put to be bitten to death by insects.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At the thought of those sky-covering insects, the cloaked figure and all the black-armored knights shuddered involuntarily—this was precisely why they chose to flee into the desert; those insects could not penetrate deep into the desert and would bake to death halfway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As expected, once the fleet entered the desert, the insects vanished.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was a correct choice, yet the barren scenery along the way made their hearts tremble—if there was no food, would they starve to death in the desert, their bones jutting from the sand?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What if the locals here refuse to accept us and force us to leave? I heard many of them have backgrounds as desert bandits,” the black-armored knight asked, troubled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their ten thousand people were already refugees; no place could absorb so many at once—there wasn’t even enough food to spare, so they’d inevitably be driven away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The cloaked figure snapped: “Is your sword just for decoration? Whoever tries to drive us away—kill one, kill a batch, cut through them and protect these people who trust and follow us wholeheartedly!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The cloaked figure roared with fury; inspired, the black-armored knights howled like blood-crazed dogs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After the boats reached shore, the black-armored knights mounted their prized warhorses and surged onto the beach, colliding head-on with Ange arriving to confront them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The cloaked figure tapped his staff, his voice carrying far: “People ahead, listen—we have come here to settle and develop…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before he finished speaking, the cloaked figure clearly saw Ange’s face, his legs buckling as he knelt: “Oh my god, Lord Ange?! Ascetic Ange!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Upon hearing the name, all the black-armored knights went limp; several slid off their horses.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ange, carrying a giant scythe, tilted his head in confusion: “Who are you?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The cloaked figure lifted his hood, revealing an old face: “It’s me, my lord—Faller, from Mara Village, the same Faller who escorted you from Mara Village to K Lun  Town. Do you remember me?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing the old face, Ange recalled—he turned his gaze to the black-armored knights: “Them.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The knights nervously lifted their helmets, revealing familiar faces—all members of the original knight squad that had escorted Ange. Now, they all cowered, daring not to meet Ange’s eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was no wonder they feared him—the memory of Ange chasing Xiamala in desperate flight was still fresh; and now, Xiamala was the feared Fallen Angel.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To chase a Fallen Angel? What need was there to question Ange’s power?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>And Pianpian , Ange was an ascetic—this identity they firmly believed. Now, what were they? Corrupted Fallen Apostles, crashing head-on into an ascetic—wouldn’t Ange immediately purify them?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril fluttered over: “Huh? You? What are you doing here? Didn’t An… whoever say you were already corrupted by Xiamala and formed some Fallen Legion? So? Is your Fallen Legion planning to seize this place?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril had already observed them while projecting onto Ange, but they had never seen Huang Tong.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Negril at once, Faller’s mind flashed with insight: “Huang Tong hatchling! The assassin! You were the ones who killed Nicolas!?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>All the knights froze in shock—what? The Ange who wielded pure holy light and drove the Fallen Angel into desperate flight… was the assassin?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Though absurd, once assumed, every mystery became explainable: why no one could find the assassin’s trail, why every checkpoint yielded no clue—turns out, they themselves had escorted the assassin out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ohhh, heavens—these people of ours became tools to help the assassin escape! Ange is the assassin! The enemy of Light! What do we do? Will he kill us to silence us?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Wait—didn’t we just become enemies of Light too? Isn’t it better that Ange isn’t a true ascetic? Otherwise, he’d have purified us the moment he saw us!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Faller and the knights exchanged glances—they all realized this: maybe… this was the best outcome? They wouldn’t die?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Faller, relieved, suddenly remembered the slip Negril had made: “Huang Tong Lord, you just slipped a syllable—An? Whoever? Anthony? You were definitely sent by Anthony!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril chuckled, too lazy to explain—this black mark, Anthony would carry whether he liked it or not; adding a few more didn’t matter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What happened to your armor?” Negril noticed the black-armored knights’ armor—peeling paint, faded and patchy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One knight grimaced, scraping at the flaking paint: “Originally, our knightly holy armor. Later, we repainted it, but the paint was poor quality—over time, it became like this.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Tsk, this looks terrible. Better not to paint at all,” Negril said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Faller said we’re all corrupted—without repainting to distinguish ourselves, the Church would attack us, the Fallen Legion would attack us too—it’d be a mess,” the knight grimaced.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they chatted merrily, Ange suddenly yelled, sprinting off into the distance—those refugees had disembarked and, seeing the wind-swaying rice fields by the river, rushed toward them like mad.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How could Ange allow this? He shouted, and a swarm of figures surged forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were titans whose footsteps shook the earth, bone dragons unfurling wings that blotted out the sky, silver dragons streaking like lightning, and lightning itself running.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Of course, there were also the zombie carrying two hoes and the tiny angel with wings—by their stance, one wave could shove every refugee who reached shore back into the river.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No! No! My lord, spare them! Spare them! Everyone, stand still! Don’t move! Anyone who moves, die!” Faller panicked, sweat darkening his skin with black light; as the black light flickered, his voice boomed like thunder across the scene.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Huh? Fallen holy light? You’re quite skilled with it,” Negril said, surprised.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Faller grimaced—now was not the time to discuss this: “Huang Tong Lord, please spare them! Don’t kill them!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril smiled: “Don’t worry—they haven’t touched the rice fields. Nothing will happen.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Faller turned—indeed, the refugees who had just landed and rushed toward the rice fields now recoiled in terror at the sight of the titans and giants, retreating even faster; but disembarking was easy, reboarding was hard—many fell into the river or huddled between boat and shore, crying out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A few drowning ones were pulled out by the titans—otherwise, they’d have died.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No casualties—Faller sighed in relief, then turned to Negril with a grimace: “My lord, we refugees arrived here starving and thirsty—do you have any spare food? Could you sell us some?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Sure, no problem. First, settle everyone down,” Negril said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Faller grimaced, embarrassed: “Er… my lord, our numbers are a bit large… I wonder…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh? How many?” Negril asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“One… one three… four… five thousand?” Faller couldn’t even bring himself to say the exact number.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fifteen thousand people was an enormous number—far beyond what this village could accommodate. Just food alone would devour all nearby villages. You couldn’t ask others to give up their rations and starve themselves.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Negril looked disappointed: “Only fifteen thousand? That’s so little. How will that even be enough?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Huh? Little? Not enough food? A little is fine—just sell us a little. We’ll get through these meals, then have them fish in the lake—won’t disturb you. If inconvenient, we can go to the other side of the lake,” Faller misheard—thought Negril meant food was scarce.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was normal—anyone with sense wouldn’t think Negril meant they were too few.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Heh,” Negril knew no one would believe it—how could anyone believe that just minutes ago, its biggest problem was what to do with the rice by the lake?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one to eat it, couldn’t store it—most likely, it’d rot in the ground. Who’d have thought the goddess of luck delivered a horde of starving refugees right on cue? These people didn’t just consume the food—they’d become laborers and believers. Perfect.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“First, settle them down. Eat the grain. John, cook porridge—for fifteen thousand people.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Refugees disembarked one by one, herded onto an open field. Zi Hai, wielding a giant club and holding a giant trumpet made of bark, shouted repeatedly: “Line up! Men to the left, women to the right, neither to the middle!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At her words, a dozen eunuchs stepped into the middle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Line up, walk forward—the lord will heal and purify you. If you have wounds, illness, parasites—show them now. The lord will pay special attention.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Under her club, few dared to resist—everyone bowed their heads and shuffled forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ange stood on a rock, taller than everyone else, continuously casting Purifying Light. He’d done this many times—effortless, even able to multitask: one hand planting crops in the Palace of Rest, the other casting nonstop.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Casting so many Purifying Lights, his proficiency exploded—what should’ve been a level-one spell now produced effects of levels three or four. One cast cleared minor wounds and grime from ordinary people; if not enough, two more—no more than a second.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After enduring starvation and sun exposure, many had cracked, blistered skin—red, black, rough—some too ashamed to show their faces.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they passed before Ange—*whoosh*—wounds healed, skin whitened, grime vanished, even their clothes became clean.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Purifying Light couldn’t purify fleas or parasites, but it destroyed their living environment—after one purification, their hair became spotless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The now-clean fleas, bewildered, crawled out and began packing up to relocate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>What was this? A miracle! At the end of their flight, a man wielding holy light had healed their pains, cleansed their filth—was he guiding them to the legendary heaven where the ground was paved with grain and rivers flowed with honey?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some instinctively knelt and prostrated themselves—pure streams of faith energy surged forth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this faith energy did not flow toward Ange—it slowly gathered into a cluster, and once it reached a certain volume, vanished abruptly, heading toward some unknown place.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ange tilted his head, then leapt to the spot where the faith energy had disappeared. His Hand of Passage trembled, plunging violently inward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Hand of Passage vanished into thin air—when it reappeared, it clutched the cluster of faith energy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s wrong? What happened?” Negril flew over urgently.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They… tried to run,” Ange said, pointing at the faith energy in his hand. Usually, Ange was casual—when others offered soul-flame, he returned food, fair exchange, no cheating; if they didn’t offer, fine—he’d just withhold food.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But now—he’d healed them, and the soul-flame they offered tried to flee?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril’s expression turned strange, incredulous: “These people think you’re from the Church of Light. They offered faith to the wrong target, so it flew away—that’s normal. But Ange, you intercepted it mid-flight. Do you know what you just did? You stole the faith energy belonging to the Gods of Light.”\u003C\u002Fp>",2030,"2026-06-21T03:18:43.177Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","f4c652d94f733e45ecc35444a551fcaf14b0f36b2a559982b087a5cf466a65c1","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-164","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-162",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-cover.jpg"]