[{"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-216":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},2351697,4600,"Chapter 216: You Are the Immortal God, I Am the Unbreakable Luo Ke","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-216",216,"\u003Cp>“Uh, my lord, shouldn’t you prepare first?” Seeing Ang grab his child and wildly draw a knife as if ready to strike, Brando’s scalp prickled—was he really going to act now? Didn’t he need any preparation?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He had once watched senior clerics perform high-level healing: they burned incense, bathed, calmed their minds, dismissed all attendants, and only then dared to begin—sometimes failing due to various disturbances.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang did no preparation at all—he went straight for drastic action. The way he held that knife, was he planning to chop off his son’s leg?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang shook his head: “No need.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He pulled young Brando’s leg into position, gesturing to slash down—Brando grabbed Ang’s arm, face pale with dread: “Maybe we shouldn’t treat him after all. Let’s not treat him.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>These days, a single slash wasn’t something to take lightly—a deep wound could bleed a man dry, and with poor hygiene, even minor cuts could turn infected, ulcerate, and kill from sepsis—let alone amputating a leg.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He’d agreed too quickly at first, without thinking it through. Now that he considered it, his son was fine as he was—alive and whole. If treatment went wrong, his son might die. The risk was too great, especially with Ang’s utterly unreliable demeanor, which only deepened Brando’s anxiety.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Better to take no risk at all than to risk everything.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hmm.” Ang replied indifferently—but Negril interrupted him inside his soul: “No. You must treat him. He’s already lost trust in you. You can’t let this stand. You must heal him—shatter this distrust.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So Ang’s words became: “Hmm. We must treat him.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Young Brando, however, was remarkably brave—he firmly told his father: “Treat me!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brando thought a limp was better than risking death, but his son didn’t see it that way. Young Brando felt that living crippled was worse than dying.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Young Brando knew clearly: this healer, far stronger than his father, was treating him. Such an opportunity was priceless—even if he went to Shengbicheng, without hundreds of magic crystals as bribes, he couldn’t even meet a healer qualified to treat him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was a divine gift. He must treasure it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing his son’s determined expression, Brando’s face twisted in anguish, and he finally struggled: “W-what if we clean the knife first?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In truth, under Purification Shu , whether the blade was clean or not didn’t matter—it wouldn’t cause infection or rot. But since the client had this request, and it caused no harm, Ang summoned holy light and swept it across the blade.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ancient, rusted knife, stained with blood and corrosion, instantly lost most of its rust and grime under the holy light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For stains that had seeped into the iron, Ang tapped his finger—Disinfecting Shu  sizzled and buzzed, leaving the blade spotless.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This alone gave Brando a little more confidence. Just as he was about to grit his teeth and turn away, Ang swung the blade—and young Brando’s crippled leg flew up before his eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even if someone else were cut into seventeen or eighteen pieces, Brando wouldn’t flinch—but this was his son. His legs went weak; he nearly collapsed to the ground, only saved by a companion behind him who caught him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone else was curious too, peering eagerly. Unlike Brando, they weren’t frantic, so they could observe more clearly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Huh? Young Brando didn’t move at all, didn’t scream—isn’t it painful?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Probably the holy light is soothing him.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang had treated crippled legs before—he’d already severed young Brando’s nerves. No pain meant no screams.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He tossed the severed foot aside, opened the Essence Fluid, poured it onto the stump, and cast Purification Shu —right before the eyes of dozens of Holy Knights, a miracle unfolded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With Ang’s power, regrowing the limb from below the ankle would take about an hour. Throughout the process, he needed to continuously cast Purification Shu  to ensure the growth never halted.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If it stopped, the wound would scab over—then he’d have to scrape off the scab and start again, wasting time, energy, and causing the patient more pain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That’s why even an eighth-rank Holy Knight couldn’t find anyone to treat his son—could anyone else sustain a healing spell for a full hour like Ang?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>To achieve Ang’s result, you’d need over a dozen priests, plus over a thousand magic crystals’ worth of Sacred Essence Fluid. Mobilizing such resources would cost at least three to five thousand magic crystals.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Ang had continuously cast Purification Shu  for twenty minutes, Brando was already on his knees, gazing in awe at Ang’s back, whispering prayers. Forty minutes later, every Holy Knight knelt—because young Brando’s heel had already regrown.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Thus, under the watchful eyes of two dozen Holy Knights, Ang effortlessly performed the miracle of limb regeneration.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Until young Brando stood up, hopped a few steps on his new leg, and cried out excitedly: “Father!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only then did Brando snap to. He rose, straightened his armor, and knelt on one knee, sword planted firmly before him: “Eighth-rank Holy Knight, Brando August, pledge my loyalty to you. Your sword shall guide my path.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brando’s village lay at the base of a cliff, in a natural depression formed where the ground met the cliff face.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Living here, the cliff shielded them from some wind and rain; adding simple vertical shelters created enclosed spaces, saving massive amounts of building materials.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The village had five to six hundred people. Most had gone out to work; the elderly, weak, women, and children remained—kids played, elders chatted. Many wore barely any clothes. At the sight of strangers like Ang, they all scurried indoors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brando said awkwardly: “The village is poor. Resources are scarce. Most families own only one or two sets of clothes, which they swap.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“How harsh. How haven’t you tried to improve your living conditions?” Negril asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brando blushed: “Your humble servant is incompetent. All our economic lifelines and resources are concentrated in Shengbicheng. Everywhere else is barren. Just surviving is hard enough. Now we’re already worried about how to feed everyone during Eternal Night.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Eternal Night? Won’t Shengbicheng distribute grain then?” Negril asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Who knows? When the undead attack the walls, every hand will be needed on the front lines—who has time to care about our garrison’s rations? If we don’t prepare ahead, after Eternal Night, the whole village starving to death won’t be surprising.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you grow your own crops?” Negril asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, and we’re just at harvest time. Everyone else has already gone…” As he spoke, a deep rumble of thunder echoed across the sky.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brando’s face turned pale: “No good—it’s going to rain! We haven’t finished harvesting. Forgive me, my lord, we must leave for a moment.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shuowan , Brando turned to the other Holy Knights. Without further orders, they all dashed off in one direction.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Let’s follow and see,” Negril said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But even as he spoke, Ang had already been unable to wait. Whenever it came to farming or harvesting, he was always eager. Yet seeing the Holy Knights sprinting, he asked curiously: “They have no horses—why are they called Holy Knights?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“...” Negril was speechless. “Holy Knight is a profession—it means they’re trained in horsemanship and mounted combat techniques. They have no horses because they’re poor.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang followed them to the farmland. The entire area was in chaos. Everyone wielded wooden stone sickles, frantically cutting crops, glancing anxiously at the darkening sky. As the clouds thickened, every face grew more desperate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But how efficient could stone sickles be? Sweating, panting, limbs trembling—they stopped to look, and still hadn’t harvested half.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By past experience, harvesting all crops took a full day. Even now, pushing themselves to the limit, they couldn’t finish before the rain fell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Even with Brando and the other Holy Knights joining, progress barely improved. Their longswords were worse than stone sickles for harvesting.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang was eager to act. Negril, foreseeing this, quickly stopped him: “Don’t do anything reckless. You’re a penitent monk. Don’t use anything that doesn’t fit your identity. Don’t even think of the Death Scythe.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh.” Ang tilted his head, clasped his hands in midair—and holy light extended from his palms, coalescing into a holy… scythe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Gripping the holy light scythe backward, Ang sprinted across the field. Wherever he passed, crops fell in neat rows—no need for secondary gathering. They could be bundled and carried away immediately.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril didn’t know what to say. Only when Ang finished harvesting every crop did it sigh: “You’ve mastered Holy Light shaping—but you chose to make a scythe?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Holy Light shaping could do so much more: Holy Sword, Archangel’s Staff, Papal Scepter—all required Holy Light shaping. And now, unprecedented, comparable to legendary artifacts like the Holy Sword or Archangel’s Staff, the Holy Light Scythe had been born.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone stopped working, staring in stunned silence as Ang ran through the fields. Villagers who didn’t know Ang turned their eyes to Brando.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brando was nearly moved to tears: “My lord is helping us harvest! How humble, how kind he is! Waaahhh… Quickly, gather the crops—don’t waste my lord’s kindness!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With Ang’s hyper-efficient harvesting, villagers only needed to bundle and carry the crops. Together, they finished hauling everything into storage just before the first raindrop fell.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thank you so much, my lord! Without your help, we’d have lost over forty percent of our grain. Eternal Night would be unbearable,” Brando offered tea and snacks, tears streaming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril scolded: “If harvesting is this critical, why are your twenty-odd able-bodied men running around instead of helping?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brando blushed: “We were going to make it back in time—until we met you, my lord.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So it was Ang who’d detained them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, from the watching villagers, an old woman with one blind eye held something in her hands and waved to Brando.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brando went over, asked, then returned with what she’d given him: “My lord, the villagers, grateful for your aid, offer you a precious heirloom passed down from their ancestors.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ah? Ancestral heirloom? That’s too precious—I can’t accept it. Let the young lady take it back,” Negril hurriedly refused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Young lady?” Brando choked. He looked at the old woman’s face, wrinkled enough to trap insects—how could he possibly link her to “young lady”?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Forget it. Brando opened the box, revealing a bone artifact carved from a silver skull, engraved with exquisite magic runes, radiating black mist, shimmering like silver jade.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Brando instantly snapped the box shut, trembling violently: “I—I—we didn’t… we wouldn’t dare…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang tilted his head, puzzled. Seeing Brando stutter for ages, he simply snatched the box, glanced at it, and shoved it into the Palace of Rest.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My lord, this isn’t ours. We don’t worship the Undead,” Brando finally managed to speak clearly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril now understood why he panicked. Ang’s current identity was a penitent monk sent by the Prime Plane to investigate corruption—yet here, in a Holy Knight garrison village, they’d found an undead artifact. What crime was that?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Possessing heretical items? That meant the pyre.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril said: “I believe you. Good. I’ll claim this as my spoils. I’ll take it. Have the young lady come forward.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old woman shuffled forward timidly. Even when offering the gift, she hadn’t dared approach—now that she was coming alone, she trembled so badly she couldn’t lift her head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang didn’t care. He summoned holy light and slammed it onto her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang had merely harvested a few fields—it didn’t equal the value of this bone artifact. Accustomed to equivalence, Ang naturally reached for coins—but Negril stopped him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You give her coins, she has nowhere to spend them. Better to heal her eyes and fix her minor ailments. Look—everyone around her keeps their distance. Probably some foul odor.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh.” After several Purification Shu , the old woman gasped and lifted her head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Purification Shu  treated holistically. Especially when Ang unleashed over a dozen at once—the quantity alone was overwhelming.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Given their living conditions, elderly women like her carried countless ailments: rheumatism, gynecological disorders, skin diseases, cardiovascular issues—anything not caused by bacteria, fungi, or genetics, Purification Shu  could cure.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The old woman felt her entire body lighten. Her joints, which had tormented her sleepless every rainy day, now felt as if they’d been cut away—free.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Oh heavens, a miracle! She fell to her knees, overcome. She’d worshipped Light her whole life—this was the first time she truly felt its wonder.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then Ang gently pried open her eyelids, dropped a few drops of Essence Fluid into the empty socket, and repaired her lost eyeball. All villagers erupted: “Incredible! Such powerful divine magic!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Young Brando’s leg was healed too—definitely by my lord. So the Church isn’t all just tax-collecting monsters.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My lord is a penitent monk—I want to be a penitent monk too!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I heard penitent monks can’t live in houses, can’t eat fine food, can’t have spouses…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then I’ll become a cleric—the kind who collects taxes.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After treating the old woman’s ailments, Negril had already studied the bone artifact inside the Palace of Rest: “This is a device used by undead beings from different soul networks to communicate.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Different soul networks?” Ang tilted his head, puzzled.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes. For example, between Luo Ke and Du Luo—when their followers need to communicate, they can’t use soul networks. They must rely on devices.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Can it still work?” Ang asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes. It’s just out of energy. Inject soul energy into it. Try.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang left the village, took out the bone artifact, infused it with soul energy, and activated it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Hello hello hello…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Received! This is the frontline relay station. Who are you? Who are you trying to reach?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang tilted his head, and replied honestly: “I am the God of the Undead…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Hehe, you're the Immortal God, I'm Jian Gu Luo Ke, a lunatic.\" Click, the communication ended.\u003C\u002Fp>",2277,"2026-06-21T03:18:45.378Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","c1a759b3daac1ecc71220cbb5a2d20086a318aac5cb3eb589f01ae41c16722f3","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-217","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-215",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-cover.jpg"]