[{"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-19":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},2351500,4600,"Chapter 19","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-19",19,"\u003Cp>This plague has already killed over sixty people; for a underground city with only five thousand residents, this is a massive loss, and there’s no end in sight—in the next three or four days, the death toll will peak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If this trend continues, as many as one or two thousand might die. Feilin paced frantically but had no solution—the underground city had too few healing mages to save everyone, and they could only watch helplessly as patients died in isolation or were hacked apart by skeletons outside.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dying at home was acceptable; going out was forbidden. Even though Feilin felt pity, he knew priorities: even if one or two thousand died, no one could leave—this way, at least three or four thousand others could be saved.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Yet he sensed abnormal activity in a certain area: someone had not only fled but entered the Temple of the Undead, and his own skeleton soldiers had been driven back in fear.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feilin rushed over immediately—not to reprimand, but to apologize. It didn’t matter if the patient ran into the Temple of the Undead; there were no living souls inside, so the plague couldn’t spread. But why had the Watcher sternly ordered his skeletons to retreat? Was the Watcher angry?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He came looking for no one, yet found the escaped patient—now sleeping peacefully, his face flushed with health.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feilin was stunned. He immediately thought of one possibility: the Watcher had cured the patient’s plague.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feilin was filled with regret and shame—why hadn’t he thought to ask the Watcher for help? If anyone in the underground city could eliminate this plague, it was surely the Watcher.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In past outbreaks, the standard procedure had always been isolation, so he’d acted on instinct. But this time was different—this time, the Watcher was here.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He waited and waited, and finally, Ang returned carrying a bull’s skull.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Uh, Master, did you go digging up graves? I’ve saved some good skeletons—I’ll bring them to you right away.” Feilin, misunderstanding, offered flatteringly, then pressed on: “Master, please, save the underground city. Sell me the divine medicine that healed that child.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As he spoke, Feilin presented all the soul crystals he’d gathered during this time—about forty or so.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since soul crystals could be exchanged for food with Ang, Feilin had gone to great lengths to acquire them, ransacking his own stores and every high-ranking undead creature in the city.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Soul crystals could only be forged by intelligent undead through voluntary effort, at the cost of their soul strength; forging one required seven or eight days of rest. Forging several would drain soul strength so severely it might take one or two months to recover.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If consuming soul crystals brought some benefit, that would be one thing—but Feilin had spent them all on food useless to undead creatures. This made the undead deeply resentful: why should they sacrifice their own soul strength to buy food meant for the living?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feilin had pleaded endlessly—arguing that population was the foundation of society, that the living were the source of productivity, that if all the living died and only undead remained, the underground city would become a graveyard—until he finally calmed the undead down.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d scraped together enough to buy food, only to face a plague—and now the Watcher had a cure. There was no doubt: he’d have to pay dearly. The Watcher always demanded equal exchange. If food was this expensive, how much more would saving lives cost?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No payment.” Ang refused the soul crystals, then brought over the water vat used for watering moss and cast a purification spell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No payment? Ah!?! Holy… Holy Light!” Feilin was stunned by the refusal, then recoiled as the glow of the purification spell from Ang’s hands startled him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang ignored him. After purifying the water, he pointed at the vat: “This cures dysentery.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feilin pointed at the vat: “Holy Light.” Then at Ang’s hand: “Holy Light?” Finally, he stared at Ang: “Holy Light!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Holy Light had cast a shadow even in undead souls; even Feilin, a lich who had lived over a thousand years, could only stammer “Holy Light.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang thought Feilin was fascinated by Holy Light, so he opened his palm—and a purification spell coalesced into a sphere of pure radiance, resting gently in his hand.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feilin instinctively raised his hands to shield himself, but soon realized this holy light carried none of the revolting, nauseating aura he remembered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In the old transit hub, emissaries of the Church of Light had occasionally appeared. Those haughty fools, when they came to the King’s domain, became timid and submissive—but their repulsive aura clung to them no matter what.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This Holy Light in Ang’s hand carried none of that revulsion or discomfort.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feilin lowered his hands, crept closer, confirmed it caused no harm, then finally dared to poke a finger into the glow.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He saw the grime and impurities on his finger vanish. When he pulled it out, his finger was noticeably whiter—like a freshly boiled chicken claw—contrasting sharply with the rest of his skin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feilin sheepishly tucked his hand into his robe. How embarrassing. As a lich, he never bathed—water rotted his flesh. Even magic could only remove surface moisture; it couldn’t cleanse what had seeped into his cells. Only air-drying worked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oh, there was another simpler method: burying himself in the Spirit Soil.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So how did liches normally clean themselves?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They treated their skin like leather: first sweep, then wipe, finally apply oil—sheep fat worked best.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>None of these cleaning methods could make them truly clean, especially a lich who had lived over a thousand years—his “patina” was so thick no one could see his original color.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, a single purification spell had stripped away a millennium of grime. Feilin realized just how filthy he was. Too humiliating.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No payment. Drive away dysentery. Bring people.” Ang pointed at the undead flame on the altar. The soul energy offered daily by worshippers’ rituals meant nothing to him compared to these soul crystals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Feilin bowed and thanked him profusely before leaving. He’d only come hoping for a chance—but the outcome thrilled him beyond expectation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Still, while the Watcher asked for no payment, Feilin couldn’t show no gratitude. He thought of the bull’s skull Ang had carried back—surely not for soup, but for some other purpose.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Feilin ordered his men to haul all his prized skeletal collections to the Temple of the Undead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As Ang stood bewildered before the pile of unknown bones, a clean, beautiful female lich dragged Feilin in, storming through the door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After confirming Ang was her target, she yanked Feilin forward, pointing at his radically whitened finger, and demanded urgently: “You… you did this? Can you teach me? I’ll give you everything I have.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As she spoke, a thick, massive soul flame drifted out of her and flowed into Ang’s body, forming another strange symbol upon his soul.\u003C\u002Fp>",1143,"2026-06-21T03:18:43.177Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","2aca38dd75df68a0e724429403daa07d2f848cbbaf563e2b668dfe2a3302da1e","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-20","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-18",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-cover.jpg"]