Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton Chapter 1172

Chapter 1172: Chapter 736: What happened here? Chapter 1172: Chapter 736: What happened here? Not dead through and through? Ange was stunned. He had been using the scythe for over a thousand years; it had nearly become an extension of his body, striking wherever it was directed without the possibility of veering off target. This could only mean that the roots were extremely durable and not completely dead, still exhibiting a reflex similar to the shy plant's reaction.

Putting away the scythe, Ange reached out and tried to pull at the roots, but failed to break them. He then selected one of the thinner roots and, mustering his divine power, yanked it fiercely until it finally snapped.

Negris flew over in amazement, “These are incredibly tough, aren't they?”

Ange inspected the broken root and found it looked familiar. He hastily pulled out the whip he had seized from Kelerite and compared them closely.

Sure enough, the whip was entwined with many of these roots, the sort that had been processed and thoroughly toughened.

Negris turned to Kelerite and inquired, “Did you weave this whip using these roots?”

Kelerite nodded.

“How did you manage to break such tough and fine roots?” Negris asked curiously. Even Ange had to use divine power to snap them, so what method had this demon used to gather so many roots for crafting whips?

Kelerite paused for a moment and then hesitantly said, “Who in their right mind would try to tear them by force? I cut them with a knife. They can't be pulled apart by hand.”

Negris rubbed his nose in embarrassment. Indeed, if they couldn't be torn, one should just cut them–it was all Ange's foolish attempt at pulling that had led them astray.

These roots were not easy to pull; a single one was too thin to apply force properly, and brute strength alone might not succeed in breaking them without causing one self-injury. If dozens were pulled at once, breaking them would be even less likely, only someone like Ange with hands turned to black crystal would be capable of breaking them without getting cut.

“These are terrific materials,” Negris said, using his dragon breath to heat them for a while before checking them over. He couldn't help but add, “Chop some for Durken; he would surely turn out his treasure vault to trade with you.”

The material properties of these roots were outstanding. They hadn't completely died even after hundreds of thousands of years, retaining some reflex action, and were extraordinarily tough. A whip woven from them could lash with the speed of lightning without breaking, and it was resistant to dragon breath–it was just exceedingly abnormal.

“No wonder they haven't fully decayed after so many years; it seems as if not even mold can degrade them. We definitely need to get some for Durken; only he can handle this material properly,” Negris remarked appreciatively.

Good materials required proper handling. Even the simplest bamboo, when well-processed, could be used to make bows and arrows that lasted for decades without decaying. If not handled properly, however, it would rot within a year, just like leather.

Nevertheless, no matter how well ordinary materials are processed, they remained bamboo or leather. But these roots were different; the difference between their upper and lower limits was huge. If not processed properly, they could only be used to make whips, but if done well, they could perhaps even be used to bind Hole Bugs.

Only the King of Alchemy could be trusted with processing these roots, and so Negris was content to leave it to him.

How to cut them? Ange scratched around and saw no weapon sharper than the Death Scythe, so he had no choice but to take out the Death Scythe again and slowly separate and cut the roots.

But the roots were too tough and unyielding, so after a long while, he had only managed to sever a dozen or so.

“Is it this hard to cut?” Negris asked, growing impatient, and turned to Kelerite.

Kelerite's face turned red, and he said sheepishly, “Actually, I didn't cut them. There was nothing to brace against, so it was impossible to cut. I grinded them. I had thousands of slaves grinding away at this spot for decades. Many a demon's horns and teeth were worn away before we had enough material for the whip.”

Negris exclaimed furiously, “Then why did you say earlier that you chopped them?”

Kelerite hesitated, “Well… it's… embarrassing to say I ground them down…”

It was like inflating one's face to pretend to be a fat bug; he had been deceived. Without a quick method of cutting, the task of removing the roots one by one seemed endless.

“Ange, can you find a way to speed this up? Big Cat should be recovering soon; we need to go pick up the others,” Negris urged.

Hearing his name called, Big Cat abruptly lifted his head and vigorously shook it, indicating he had not recovered yet.

“Heh, trying to play dead, huh?” Negris rolled his eyes. When it was time to collect the Elf Beans earlier, he hadn't seen Big Cat show any signs of fatigue. Now that they were talking about going back to pick people up, it suddenly feigned death–nobody would believe that.

If Negris hadn't been rushing him, Ange would have continued to cut leisurely, probably gathering enough material after about ten days or so. For him, repetitive actions were instinctual, just like he could repeat farming for a thousand years.

However, since Negris was urging him on, Ange tilted his head and thought for a moment, then suddenly thrust his hand into the empty space in front of him.

Suddenly, his arm along with the elbow and shoulder vanished, only to reemerge from another position, grabbing a bunch of roots and yanking them outwards.

The entire bundle of roots was pulled through the space rift, which then closed, with the edges intertwining onto the roots themselves.

“Spatial Shear? Hiss–it didn't sever? Are you kidding me?” Negris exclaimed.

This was just too abnormal. Even spatial cutting couldn't sever these roots? Normally, if a creature's head were to stick out while its body remained on the other side, a flick of the wrist would allow it to move separately.

These roots were one of the three things Negris knew to resist spatial cutting–the other two being Black Crystal and Mourning Bones.

But the problem was, bones are… bones aren't 'alive' but rather 'undead', and these roots were already dead, yet they could also resist it?

No, that's not right–just moments ago, the old tree had mentioned that the root system was severed, cut by spatial shear.

“Didn't you say the main root was severed by spatial shear?” Negris addressed the God of Life.

The God of Life said leisurely, “Yes, severed by spatial shear, though I don't know how long it took to sever.”

“Pfft–” Negris decided never to speak with the old tree again; it was infuriating.

Turning his gaze back to the roots, indeed, the space rift was contracting, gradually shearing into the roots. Within the bundle as thick as an arm, there might be hundreds of smaller roots, and they were breaking one by one with the rift's contraction, approximately at a rate of one per second.

Having gained experience, Ange moved to another plane and once again extended his arm through space–this time his arm appeared in front of a more intact bunch of roots, dragging over a large cluster of them.

If this cluster could be severed, its volume would be at least twenty times greater than the first.

However, when the space rift closed, Ange looked back at the cut on the first bundle with confusion.

Ange rarely made pointless moves, so Negris followed Ange's gaze back to the first bundle and said in surprise, “Hmm, has the cutting speed slowed down?”

If it was about one per second before, it now took almost ten seconds to sever one–nearly ten times slower.

Negris immediately thought of the reason, “Did the second bundle of roots decrease the power of the space contraction, thus weakening the cutting force?”

That was very likely. Ange closely observed the second bundle for a while, then dragged over another and compared them, quickly confirming this hypothesis.

“So, the more roots that pass through the space, the weaker the force of the contraction becomes–if it weakens to a certain extent, wouldn't that mean they can't be severed?” Negris said.

The God of Life replied at a leisurely pace, “Yes, that's how the Void Tree extends its roots; otherwise, resisting spatial shearing would be too strenuous.”

Negris, puzzled, asked, “Then why are the roots here still getting severed?”

The God of Life explained, “Time–time has broken this balance. As some of the roots decayed, the force of the spatial shearing surpassed the strength of the roots.”

Negris suddenly understood–it was all about the balance of forces. Once this equilibrium was disrupted, space continuously contracted, severing parts of the roots, and the breaking of the roots, in turn, amplified the spatial shearing force. This give-and-take would accelerate the later root severance until they were all eventually detached.

Understanding this principle, Ange removed the last two bundles, leaving only the first, channeling all the spatial shearing force onto it, which sharply increased the speed.

Several hundred seconds later, the first bundle was cut through. Ange then pulled over a second, and upon careful comparison, found that a thickness about four times that of the first offered the fastest cutting speed–beyond that thickness, the speed would increase exponentially.

Then there was the factor of distance; the farther the traversal, the greater the cutting force. Ange moved to the very end of the space, pulled over a root twenty times the diameter, and maintained maximum speed.

Ange didn't attempt any further; it was beyond his line of sight, and the consumption of the Boundary-crossing Hand would surge. Besides, he had roughly collected enough roots for Durken–after all, he merely intended to gather 'a little bit' of material, not to uproot them entirely.

“Alright, that should be enough. Big Cat, hurry up, and send Ange back to get some people.” Negris called out.

“Awoo~” The Big Cat got up reluctantly; then before it could enlarge, a Soul Howl echoed throughout the plane: “Wandering Soul Ledar, under the command of the Undead Ruler, sends greetings to the Lord of the Abyss. Hello there, the Lord of the Abyss in this place, may I ask what has happened here?”

Chapter end

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