[{"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-182":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},2351663,4600,"Chapter 182: Ask Someone to Cut Them Down for Us","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-182",182,"\u003Cp>Angr didn’t know how long he’d slept; previously, he could sleep through an entire winter. Though slumber was the ideal way for a skeleton to grow stronger, he didn’t have to sleep—he was a vegetable-growing skeleton, with no desire to grow stronger.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But winter was too cold to grow anything, and besides sleeping, he had nothing else to do. Huh, could this somehow align with the undead’s upgrade code?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Regardless, Angr fell into slumber, and then a jumble of chaotic beliefs flooded into his soul.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“May the God of Undeath bless my family with longevity and good health…” This was unusual—why seek longevity and health from the God of Undeath?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“May the God of Undeath grant me eternal life; if I may live forever, I’ll offer one gold coin annually.” Some lives weren’t worth much.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“May the God of Undeath grant me great wealth…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“God of Undeath, please help me kill my neighbor’s minotaur…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“God of Undeath, please bless me to succeed in my beauty ritual—make me thirty years younger.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“God of Undeath, I’m thirty years old, but still very short—can anything be done?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“God of Undeath, please bless me to burn these rice fields and starve these bastards…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“God of Undeath—”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Huh? Go back, go back—burn my rice fields? Who’s burning my fields?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Boom! Angr shot straight up from the ground, zipping off at once. The busy crowd outside saw a dark-yellow skeleton sprinting past and froze in confusion.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Uh, did something just go by?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yeah, looked like a skeleton—dark yellow. Wait, is that a gold skeleton?!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Where did a gold skeleton come from? Could it be Lord Angr?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril flapped his tiny wings frantically in pursuit: “Angr! Angr! Where are you going?! Lightning! White Throat!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Zzzt—Lightning arrived in a blur, slicing in sideways. Negril flipped onto its back.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Perfect coordination, ha.” Negril said, slightly proud.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lightning sneered: “You fly slower than I run—what’s so perfect about it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril’s tiny eyes narrowed into dangerous vertical pupils, fixed on Lightning’s horn—he swore, one day he’d saw it off.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lightning quickly caught up to Angr. Negril shouted: “Where are you going? Why are you yellow now?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Angr flipped onto Lightning’s back and pointed ahead: “Burning my fields. Over there.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril’s heart dropped—oh no, trouble. Who the hell—*beep*—burned Angr’s fields? Do they want to die? This is bad. This is very bad.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No wonder Angr, who’d slept half a year and wouldn’t wake no matter how much they called, suddenly popped up—someone burned his fields. But…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How do you know someone burned your fields?” Negril asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He prayed to me,” Angr said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Pfft…” You burn the God of Undeath’s fields, then pray to the God of Undeath? That’s like the God of Life hanging himself—trying to die faster?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But it’s not surprising—who’d think these fields belonged to the God of Undeath? You’re the God of Undeath—why grow crops?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As for why they prayed to the God of Undeath, probably just local custom. After all, across the entire desert, including the Falling Dragon Lake, the God of Undeath was now the only faith.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Doing something bad in town and praying to the local god? Makes sense.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lightning raced forward, and far ahead, they saw a dragon of flame rising above the rice fields beside the Falling Dragon Lake.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril gasped: “Worse! Water-flame spell! It turns water into flammable fuel, then ignites it—water is no longer a fire suppressant, but fuel. Perfect for arson in wet environments—even oceans can burn.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lightning sneered: “Don’t lie, God of Knowledge. Water can become fuel for arson?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course it can. 2H2O=2H2↑+O2↑%￥#@￥…##+@+…@#, you can do it,” Negril said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Lightning clenched his lips tight, pretending not to hear—he didn’t understand anyway.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Racing up to the fields, Angr leapt like a cannonball into the flames, ignoring the fire scorching his bones, and raised his hand to cast Pollination Spell. Negril had said water wouldn’t work—so use wind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He unleashed wave after wave of wind tornadoes, instantly carving a smokeless vortex through the flames. Following that vortex, Angr cast at six spells per second, gradually forming a full-scale tornado.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Vast amounts of air were expelled from above, creating a vacuum that sucked surrounding air inward, pinning the flames in place, unable to spread—by the time the fire burned out, only two or three mu of rice fields were destroyed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this was enough to enrage Angr. The bone dragon and White Throat were summoned, circling the sky. The titans hefted great clubs, blocking the riverbank. Lightning, the little angel, and the little zombie patrolled the shore. Soon, the two arsonists were forced out of the water.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They wore underwater thermal gear, mouthpieces with magic air tanks, and belts loaded with bottles and jars. Floating up, terrified, they stared at the circling bones and silver dragon, the towering giants on shore—completely stunned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It’s just a few mu of rice fields—do you really need this much force?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“May the God of Undeath protect us—what’s happening?” one arsonist muttered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After harsh interrogation, they learned they were men of Duke Light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Duke Light’s realm lay upstream of the East River, bordering Black Mountain Duchy, facing the former Fallen Legion’s encampment across the river. After Black Mountain Duchy suffered the insect plague, Duke Light became the only realm left upstream of the East River.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unlike Black Mountain Duchy, Duke Light was a “normal” nation—vast in territory, populous, rich in agricultural and pastoral resources, an agricultural state.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As everyone knows, agriculture sustains survival but rarely brings wealth. Duke Light was poor—compared to the elves and dwarves with mines, or human nations with advanced crafts, Duke Light was like a beggar lying on a sack of grain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the past half year, Duke Light’s officials noticed wealthy merchants and nobles appearing at the docks and taverns, renting or buying boats to sail westward along the river.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Some even inquired about the Goddess of Beauty, Beautiful City, skin-lightening, wrinkle-removal, hair regrowth, enlargement, bone-lengthening, cosmetic surgery—things that sounded like miracles.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At first, no one believed it—just rumors spread by desperate desert bandits to lure rich targets across the border for robbery.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Until the duke’s seventy-year-old mother secretly slipped away, returned thirty years younger, and was barred from entering the castle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Furious, the old lady stood outside the gates and exposed every private detail—the duke’s childhood bedwetting, his teenage wet dreams, his teenage affair with the maid, his mistresses, his illegitimate children. No one dared doubt she was the real old lady anymore.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her appearance shook the harem. The duke’s wife and concubines went mad. If the old lady hadn’t still cursed as fiercely as before, they’d have suspected she was the duke’s new mistress—after all, she now looked forty, perfectly matched to the fifty-year-old duke.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After suspicion came excitement—who didn’t want to be thirty years younger? Who didn’t want flawless, porcelain skin? Who didn’t want lifted cheeks, vanished eye bags?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone wanted it. The duke suffered—he emptied the treasury, but it still wasn’t enough to send his wife and concubines all to Beautiful City. Not to mention hair regrowth, enlargement, bone-lengthening.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The fifty-year-old bald, fat duke himself wanted to go too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the end, he chose his duchess to investigate; for this, he was exhausted over two nights by his twenty-year-old concubine, his legs so weak he could barely function, and only recovered after hiding in the Administrative Hall for several days.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Why the duchess? Because her age meant the beauty ritual’s effect would be more dramatic. As for the old lady, she’d slipped away secretly with only her maid, too awestruck to notice anything valuable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time, the duchess was accompanied by seasoned statesmen and experienced adventurers.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soon, the duchess returned—thirty years younger, yet still retaining the grace and poise of a mature woman, like a blooming imperial flower, dazzling all others.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The duke was utterly enchanted. After days of indulgence, he finally came to his senses and noticed the difference between the duchess’s “youth” and true youth.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The duchess clearly lacked the fiery vitality of his concubines—her skin was taut but lacked elasticity and moisture; yet due to her experience, she cooperated perfectly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This thrilled the duke even more—it meant she was still the same woman, not replaced. This was truly a miracle, not some dark magic.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Duke Light longed to fly to Beautiful City immediately—but after checking the treasury, he realized he was too poor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>According to the price list, even a few treatments required at least 600,000 magic crystals—the old lady had spent 600,000, but used her own private funds. The duke’s treasury was no richer than her private stash.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This wasn’t just about beauty—it was a business that made the duke’s eyes gleam. Should he launch a full-scale invasion and seize Beautiful City?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The thought flashed and vanished—poverty. War was the costliest thing, especially deep into the desert—even with river access, it was impossible.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At this moment, Duke Light’s chief minister offered him a brilliant idea.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Only Duke Light and Black Mountain Duchy remain upstream of the East River. Black Mountain is starving—so if we burn the riverside rice fields, they’ll have to import food in bulk. We control river transport—lowest cost. We raise prices several times over—won’t we recover the magic crystals?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Brilliant. But I heard there are vast rice fields beside the Falling Dragon Lake—must burn them all.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Don’t joke. Falling Dragon Lake is a saltwater lake—how could anything grow there? Probably just salt-tolerant reeds.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Fine. Do it. Water-flame spell is best for riverside arson.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That was the full backstory of why these two arsonists were here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But what puzzled Angr more: “Beautiful City?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril scratched his head sheepishly: “Lisa and Silver Coin came up with this business—to house idle refugees. Construction is the most exhausting work—let them build the city.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Didn’t I mention the Undead Beauty Goddess before? They liked the name, took it, called it Beautiful City. They’ve built a bit already—barely got the central district done.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Beautiful City, centered on the Palace of Beauty, is divided into four zones, developed around beauty services—primarily dining and lodging—with beauty as the driving force behind the tertiary industry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Angr saw a cluster of mud houses, a giant sign carved with “Palace of Beauty,” and on its side, dragon patterns engraved with the words “Soul Endures.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dragons had no writing—dragon patterns were their script. “Soul Endures” in dragon script meant “Undeath”—translated: (small print) Undead | Palace of Beauty.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet despite the name “Palace,” it was nothing but low, flat buildings.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Angr didn’t care. Negril awkwardly explained: “No choice—desert lacks building materials. Only stone is abundant. Once the quarry in the gorge is built, we’ll haul in stone blocks and stack a tall tower here as a landmark—then it’ll be magnificent.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh,” Angr replied indifferently. It wasn’t his anyway—as long as it didn’t crush his fields.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After introducing the latest developments, Negril asked: “And you? How do you feel? Did you level up? Gold skeleton?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Unlike the gleaming gold skeletons, Angr’s bones were dark yellow—not gold, more like bronze. But there was no such thing as a bronze skeleton in the world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Angr tilted his head, inspecting himself from top to bottom, equally confused. He definitely leveled up—his bones felt much harder than before—but by how much, he couldn’t say.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Whatever. Angr reached into the Palace of Rest, pulled out a segment of arm bone—the dark luster unmistakably belonged to the Purple Gold Bone of Rock.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He attached it to his right hand, moved it—light, flexible. Good. His entire right arm was now purple gold.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pulled out another segment, attached it to his Transdimensional Hand—slightly awkward, but still movable. Good. Both hands were now purple gold.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He cast a spell—smoother, spell speed doubled. Previously like a single cannon turret, now like two magic crystal cannons linked together—dual crystal cannon.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His spell level also rose—he could now cast level-two spells.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh my god! Magic finally leveled up! Finally can cast level-two spells! With buffer, I’ve got level-four magic power! Oh my god, I’ve been sick of your level-one spells!” Negril shouted excitedly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Angr had only ever cast level-one spells, using the Bone of Strength’s buffer to cast below level-two. What level-two spells? Always the same few—Negril had grown nauseated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, even though only level-two, with buffer he could access level-four magic—level-four spells were numerous, entering the “intermediate” stage, the most creative phase for mages—strange, bizarre spells emerged endlessly, like water-wind hybrid magic—Cleaning Bubble Dragon, designed specifically for laundry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he saw Angr summon the titans and shove them into the Palace of Rest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril felt a bad omen: “What are you planning?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Angr said matter-of-factly: “Duke Light. Burned fields. Cut him down.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Burn a few mu of fields, and cut down a duke?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No cutting, no cutting. The current plane’s situation is bad. Anthony warned us not to kill recklessly—especially killing a duke will trigger the Plane Security Meeting. Even if we have at least three old acquaintances there, if the other side gets four votes, we’ll become plane enemies—and no one will protect us.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Angr tilted his head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“We can’t kill him, but we can hire someone else to kill him. Do you remember the Saintess Shamarra?”\u003C\u002Fp>",2184,"2026-06-21T03:18:43.177Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","2e15e74f5ef0f4350762135a42374278ec2a8a38ce49b76f019660d564e61815","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-183","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-181",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-cover.jpg"]