[{"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-217":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},2351698,4600,"Chapter 217","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-217",217,"\u003Cp>“I am truly the Immortal God.” Ang restarted the communication and spoke honestly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re really pushing it, huh? Fine, fine, you’re the Immortal God, I’m your dad—don’t humans always insult each other like this? Which dead kid found a communication bone tile and is playing with it? Soul crystals are this expensive and you’re wasting them?” Clearly, the other end assumed he was some human who’d found a discarded communication bone tile and was randomly sending messages.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But I really am the Immortal God.” Ang said, bewildered—he didn’t know how to react when others didn’t believe him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Shut up! If you’re the Immortal God, why are we still stuck here, unable to return home for a thousand years! Get lost! If you bother us again, after Eternal Night I’ll unleash my crows to eat every grain in the villages nearby and starve you bastards to death.” The voice on the other end roared in anguish, then—click—the communication cut out again.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang and Negril’s minds brushed against each other, both sensing the same confusion: “He seemed angry?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since the other side didn’t believe him anyway, and he didn’t know what else to say if he called again, Ang temporarily put the bone tile away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Blando, pick two people and come with me to Shengbicheng.” Negril said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Yes, my lord.” Blando replied, then turned and shouted: “Little Blando, Tiny Blando, come here!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril was stunned: “Wait, how many Blandos do you have here?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, there are over a dozen of us—we’re all from the Blando family. Little Blando is my son, Tiny Blando is my nephew.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril was speechless: “You people name your kids way too lazily. Don’t you ever get confused calling each other that?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“No no no, we don’t call each other that normally. My son’s name is Lamefoot, my nephew’s is Iron Drum. Don’t worry, my lord—they’re the best warriors among us.” Blando, thinking Ang disdained them, immediately patted his chest in assurance.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since all the names were awful anyway, Negril didn’t bother arguing. He had the three line up, stand in a row—and immediately spotted the problem: “Your appearance is a bit shameful.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The three Blandos hung their heads in shame.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blando was somewhat better off; Little Blando was missing one boot because his foot had been lame and no shoe fit. Tiny Blando was even worse—his armor was torn and patched, with holes exposing his skin.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Here,” Negril said, “I’ll lend you three sets of Holy Armor. Return them when you’re done.” As he spoke, Ang pulled out the Holy Armor eggs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Originally, they’d found one hundred and twenty Holy Armor eggs in the Holy Heaven, given a few to Andong, and tossed the rest aside—never had a chance to use them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blando stared blankly at the Holy Armor egg, the size of an ostrich egg—he clearly didn’t recognize this high-end gear, and even if he’d seen someone wearing it before, he wouldn’t know what it looked like when collapsed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Take off your rags and channel Holy Power.” Negril said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blando hesitantly stripped off his armor; his son and nephew quickly yanked off even their undergarments.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>As they channeled Holy Power, the Holy Armor instantly unfolded into the shape of a metallic angel, facing Blando—its wings wrapped around him, and with a series of metallic clicks, the plates sealed tightly to his body.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Such a dazzling way of donning armor stunned Blando’s entire family. Other Holy Knights and villagers watched from afar, and at this sight, they all knelt down. Someone murmured: “I saw an angel attach itself to Blando.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Since Ang’s arrival, the villagers had already experienced multiple shocks. Many had never left the village and were only half-believers in the Light—their faith was weak.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Occasionally, priests or holy maidens came to the countryside, but rarely performed miracles. Instead, they demanded bribes and favors, easily provoking resentment—and rarely inspiring awe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Most people’s belief in the Light came from Holy Knights like Blando.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Now, what Ang displayed allowed them to truly feel the power of the Light.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The other Holy Knights were envious to the point of despair. After passing the Holy Knight trials, they’d been issued old, battered secondhand armor—some ill-fitting, worn not only without divine dignity but often carrying foot fungus or skin rashes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Holy Armor was sacred, majestic, dazzling, and radiated power. To wear even once would be enough to satisfy them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Three horses were dragged out. Negril asked: “You can ride horses, right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Blando replied shamefully: “We can ride, but we’re not skilled—we used to practice on donkeys.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alright then. Each of you take a horse and go practice. If you master it, you leave. If not, we’ll replace you. After completing the task, these horses are yours—as a reward.” Negril said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The warhorses seized from sand bandits and Dragon Knights had been kept too long in the Palace of Rest—eating, sleeping, eating, sleeping, with no room to run. They’d grown fat in layers. If this continued, they’d become useless. They needed to be sold or moved quickly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Thank you, my lord! We’ll train hard!” Blando shouted excitedly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A warhorse—in the Lands of Despair, a horse was worth more than a person. Blando’s entire fortune couldn’t buy one.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Dressed in Holy Armor, riding sturdy horses, the three Blandos practiced their riding with great joy—already radiating an aura of elite warriors.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With three genuine Holy Knights, Ang—the fake ascetic—and the projected Common Sense God, plus the “summoned” unicorn Lightning, rode toward Shengbicheng.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shengbicheng wasn’t far—especially with horses. After a day and night, they could see the city seemingly embedded into the mountain cliff.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>From afar, they saw a beam of light shoot from Shengbicheng into the sky, weakening gradually until it vanished at several hundred meters.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What’s that?” Negril asked. Now, Negril was projected onto Ang’s body and spoke for him—Ang only needed to maintain a blank expression.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It matched his identity. No one would question where the voice came from—ascetics were supposed to speak little; the less they spoke, the more ascetic they were.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh, that’s the Ascension Stairway. Once linked to the Holy Heaven, it connects to the Heavenly Stairway, allowing mass teleportation.” Blando said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Understood—it was like the receiver end of a teleportation array.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Pity.” Negril sighed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My lord, what’s pitiful?” Blando asked, confused.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Nothing.” Negril replied offhandedly, but inside he thought: Too bad the Holy Heaven will never link here again—these stairways are just for show now.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Arriving at the gates of Shengbicheng, Ang pulled out his… Beast-Seeking Rod. According to Serina, this rod could point to the location of dimensional beasts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But unfortunately, its guidance was flat and one-directional—not intuitive. It only indicated a rough direction; the exact location required arriving at the spot and checking.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>If you went the wrong way, the direction changed. If you passed the target, it pointed backward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Standing on horseback near Shengbicheng, the Beast-Seeking Rod turned a ninety-degree angle, pointing left.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Riding in that direction for dozens of miles, Ang’s group arrived at a massive settlement.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Settlement” was the only word that fit—it wasn’t a city or town. Buildings, tents, wooden shacks were scattered everywhere, haphazardly, as if unplanned.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was the rear of Shengbicheng. While humans here blocked the undead advance, this place gathered supplies, manufactured equipment, repaired armor and weapons, trained soldiers, and treated the wounded.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was a plan laid out by humans over a thousand years ago. But a thousand years passed, countless reinforcements came and went—this place had changed beyond recognition.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Like a room never cleaned, over a thousand years, countless tenants came and went—some brought furniture, some bedding, some books—all piled up and never thrown away, until it became this.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With the population growth of the Lands of Despair, this place had become a slum. Barely clothed beggars stared blankly, lying or slumped by the roadside—until Ang approached, when their eyes flickered slightly, and they scrambled to kneel, mumbling something.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The mumbling was too low to hear clearly. Ang paused, focusing his will on the man—then understood: “Please, master, grant me food and health, wealth and glory, grant me all I desire…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But this chant felt like a rote ritual—no belief at all. From him, Ang sensed not a trace of faith.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Ang passed, he rolled back over, muttering: “Holy bread, hurry up, holy bread, hurry up…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Holy bread was the Church’s daily relief ration—coarse flour mixed with chaff, baked hard, gritty, scraping the throat—but it filled a fifth of the stomach. This beggar’s daily life was: lie down, wait for relief, lie down, wait again—until death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Along the way, many beggars were in the same state. Ang felt they had less spirit than the undead skeletons and zombies in Wuxiao City.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only the young children still showed some vitality. Even in this environment, many innocent kids played and laughed. When they saw Ang, they scattered like startled birds, then hid behind pillars and corners, peering timidly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A toddler, two or three years old, with a thick neck, stumbled and fell hard with a thump—bursting into loud sobs.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A girl, seven or eight, dashed from a nearby shack, ran to Ang’s horse, slammed a deep bow, then dragged the crying toddler to the roadside and glanced at Ang quickly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Seeing Ang’s blank expression, the girl’s heart tightened. She bowed again, harder, pressing the toddler’s head down, trying to make him bow too.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But the toddler, terrified, only cried—he couldn’t bow. The girl nearly cried herself: “Bow! The lord will get angry! Bow now!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang tilted his head, confused, and said to Negril: “I’m not angry.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril sighed: “Maybe your face is too scary—no expression at all. If you want to show you’re not angry, you should smile.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Oh.” Ang kept his blank expression, but pulled out a beetroot and tossed it to the girl: “I’m not angry.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The girl stared at the fresh, juicy beetroot, then up at Ang’s blank face—disbelieving: “My lord… what did you say?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She’d heard him—but she couldn’t believe Ang, with that face, had said it. She thought she’d misheard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m not angry. Eat.” Ang repeated.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This time she heard clearly. She stared at Ang, reached out slowly, picked up the beetroot, moved it to her lips—every motion cautious, eyes fixed on Ang. Seeing he still showed no expression, she finally bit down hard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang still showed no expression. Now she understood—this lord was probably a mute. The lord truly wasn’t angry.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Maybe it was relief after surviving, maybe the beetroot was sweet, maybe no one had ever been kind to her—tears silently welled in the girl’s eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She chewed hard, wiped her tears with a small hand, and bowed again to Ang.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>A soul flame rose from her body and flew straight toward Ang.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Blando’s village, Ang had collected many soul flames—he’d shown several miracles. But all those flames had been offered to the Gods of Light, and Ang had intercepted them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Everyone assumed he was a Holy Church ascetic, and everything he did was divine power.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only this one flame was offered directly to Ang. This little girl’s offering wasn’t for the Gods of Light—it was for Ang.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ang nodded to her and continued forward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Negril cursed inside his soul: “This is tragic. Conditions here are worse than a desert oasis. At least the oasis has someone caring. Here, it’s like no one cares. So many children have swollen necks—severe malnutrition. Are the Church people dead?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Swollen necks—is that a disease?” Ang asked, confused—he’d noticed some children had thick necks and thought it was a racial trait.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Goiter. Caused by malnutrition.” Negril said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At that moment, Ang suddenly sensed something. He turned back. They’d already traveled hundreds of meters. Looking back, he saw a handcart near the girl’s spot.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Two white-clad attendants were arguing with the girl. One snatched the beetroot from her hand, then grabbed two breads from the cart’s barrel and threw them into her lap.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Do you think a lowly beggar like you can eat beetroot? Chew your holy bread! What lord? Who? You stole it!” One attendant cursed, even raising his foot to kick her—terrifying the girl into scrambling backward.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But instantly, the girl’s face lit up: “My lord!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The attendants followed her gaze and saw only a unicorn with a grinning mouth, atop which sat a blank-faced ascetic, followed by three Holy Knights in majestic armor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With such elite Holy Knights as attendants, this lord must truly be a “great” person.\u003C\u002Fp>",2069,"2026-06-21T03:18:45.378Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","161e3b0d359c09c28fb5e6f09a54d0467641a71b4a813f6b857d2551244fd283","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-218","the-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-chapter-216",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fthe-vegetable-growing-skeleton-s-foreign-land-re-cover.jpg"]