Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton Chapter 1418

Chapter 1418: Chapter 979: Blast Him with the Starburst Array

After Negriss finished inquiring about the Black Cord Mercenary Group, Anthony said with some resignation, “Your Majesty would definitely sew your mouth shut if he knew you were spreading his stories everywhere.”

“What are you talking about? I'm gathering information on his enemies. This Black Cord Mercenary Group is no small matter. They actually have two Chaos Sword Saints, oh, they're known as the Sword of Silence and Heat, even more formidable than the Mourning Undead Soldiers. Old Immortal only bumped into one of them last time,” Negriss hurriedly explained.

Old Immortal really could do something like sewing up his own mouth, and then he would only be able to speak with his soul.

“It doesn't really matter. As long as His Majesty regains his Origin Power, the Sword of Silence and Heat or whatever it's called, none of that matters. If His Majesty can't regain his Origin Power, we won't be able to avenge him anyway, so gathering this intelligence is pointless,” Anthony said, spreading his hands.

“Ah? Why can't we avenge him? I was thinking of gathering the information and then we could secretly wipe out the Black Cord Mercenary Group. When Old Immortal wakes up, we'd present the souls of those guys to him as a surprise,” Negriss said.

Anthony rolled his eyes, “Are you trying to surprise His Majesty? You just want to avenge him so he has no vendetta left to choke on, is that it? Stop pretending. The grievances suffered by His Majesty can only be settled by His Majesty himself, and it must be done quickly. Otherwise, by the time these people grow old, even vengeance won't be satisfying.”

Negriss pouted his lips, not annoyed at being called out, but he could indeed sense the Monarch's impatience. The biggest obstacle to the vendetta was the lifespan of the enemy. If it was too late and the enemy died of old age, it wouldn't be meaningful.

The notion of living longer than one's enemies to claim vengeance simply didn't exist in the souls of all the Undead Kings in the Void. Thus, the Monarch devoured two Mourning Souls, something he hadn't done in a long while.

But these were Anthony's concerns, not Negriss's. If Old Immortal couldn't handle it, what's wrong with Ange helping him with his revenge? Just throw the avenged soul at his feet and go mock him, hmph.

While they were talking, Ziora had finished chatting with Roland on the other side. Ziora surrendered, leaving only two choices for Roland – surrender or death.

Roland came over, his expression grave, and asked, “What do you plan to do with the residents of Highland City? Enslave them or kill them? If you're only taking them as slaves, we Violet can hand over Highland City to you. But if you want their corpses, then we will have to die here. The mercenary's code of ethics won't allow us to abandon them.”

Anthony and Negriss looked at each other and hesitantly asked, “Why would you think we'd kill them?”

“The Undead Army, you've brought people from the settlements in the east, you killed them all, isn't it for their bodies?” Roland said.

“That's not it,” Anthony explained. “I brought over three thousand undead, a large part of which were killed by them, only the other half were killed by me. This is their punishment for killing the other half.”

Roland blinked, then sighed deeply. He understood what Anthony meant – in these times of war, killing wasn't considered a major sin.

“If it's only enslavement, I hope you'll treat them kindly. Can you spare the women and children?” Roland begged earnestly.

Anthony could tell that Roland was sincerely entreating, not feigning righteousness. They had just witnessed Ange's power almost kill Ziora with a single move. Pretending would be suicide, and if they really wanted to 'help him be kind', it would be too late for tears.

Facing this kind of pressure to make a request piqued Anthony's curiosity, “What is your relationship with Highland City?”

Roland shook his head, “No relation. We were just passing by, staying in the tavern when everything became chaotic. Some started looting, killing, and setting fires. We captured those people, and then many civilians surrounded us, begging us to maintain order. And that's how we got to this point.”

“Do you have food in the city? What about clean water? Many wounded or sick? Is there an epidemic?” Anthony asked, item by item.

“There's very little food left, we've already rationed it, eating only one meal a day; those doing heavy labor can eat twice. There's not enough clean water; we have to fetch it from outside the city daily, enough only for drinking. Many are wounded and sick; without medicine and wizards, and there is an epidemic. Some have fevers, so I've quarantined them,” Roland responded.

Anthony nodded in approval. With coherent answers, Roland sounded like a competent subordinate. Wasting him on a role like a band chief.

“If we say we came here to deliver food, treat injuries, and eradicate plagues, all without expecting anything in return, would you believe it?” Anthony asked.

“Phew…uh…” Roland and his mercenaries burst into laughter, but their laughter soon faded.

Anthony began to take out bags of grain one by one, quickly piling them up to a man's height, then an airship flew by, and a squad of Undead carried out the grain. Following that, two White Dragons descended slowly from the sky, dragging several large nets filled with grain.

Overwhelmed by the amount of grain, Roland was at a loss for what to do, but when Anthony ordered him to lead the way to the infirmary, he subconsciously obliged.

The infirmary was located in Highland City's grain warehouse, the best-conditioned building with dry and crisp air. The grains were cleared out to make room for a bunch of wounded patients.

Anthony took out his wand, donned his robes and crown, and entered with a sacred glow–approaching some of the lightly wounded, the Holy Light from his body shone upon them–Group Healing Spell: Bath of Holy Light.

The lightly injured were shocked to feel their wounds itch. Peeling back the bandages, they saw wounds that hadn't healed for ages due to poor nutrition visibly closing up. By the time Anthony passed by, the wounds had scabbed over.

For those with more severe injuries that couldn't heal on their own, Anthony stopped with a smile, beamed the Holy Light on their wounds, and affectionately said, “May Master Ange bless you.”

Anthony's face was too youthful now to exude an aura of benevolence, which would have been more effective in such a situation.

Bathed in the Holy Light, it wasn't long before the ones with broken legs threw aside their crutches to stand, comatose plant people opened their eyes and rose up, and those feverishly delirious quickly cooled down and scabbed over, gaining enough strength to sit up.

For those with missing limbs or blindness, Anthony patted their shoulders and consoled them, “Pray devoutly, repent for your sins, and divine grace will favor you.”

Although these amputations could well be cured with Essence Liquid and Rebirth Technique, Anthony was not inclined to let them heal so easily. With minor wounds healed and severe wounds wailing, a comparison is necessary for one to feel happiness.

After making his rounds through the infirmary, solving a substantial part of the injuries, Anthony moved on to the plague zone. Upon inspection, he found it was mostly dysentery, mainly caused by consuming unclean food–much easier to deal with than injuries.

Nonetheless, Anthony still had Roland bring over a bucket of water, cast Purification on it, then, dipping a fresh branch of the World Tree, he sprinkled it upon the ill, his body radiating a holy glow–Mass Purification Technique.

Imagine, when you're deliriously suffering from diarrhea, feeling like you're about to collapse from dehydration, and suddenly, a glowing figure approaches you, sprinkles some water on you, and the diarrhea stops, your strength gradually returning. All the while, he chants, “May Lord Ange purify the filth, protect his followers, let the Holy Light spread across the land, blah blah blah…”

At such a time, wouldn't you be curious about who 'Ange' is?

Soon enough, Ange had garnered a sizable following.

Roland and his men were so busily overseen by Anthony, jumping up and down, that they soon forgot about leaving. By the time it dawned on him to remember this matter, it was already payday.

Watching each person receive a 'salary' several times larger than what they'd earn through the blood-soaked coin of mercenary work, Roland blinked, casting the thought of leaving to the back of his mind.

They were not god-level mercenaries like the Black Cord; usually, they took on escort tasks with low rewards, living a tough life. This is, in fact, the norm for most mercenaries; otherwise, who would put themselves through life-and-death battles and suffer the elements for money?

But quickly, a bigger surprise nearly knocked him out. Durken had forged a batch of equipment and distributed it to everyone, with each melee combatant receiving a Dragon Pattern Steel Core Longsword–just the sword alone was worth several years of their mercenary pay, not to mention a set of armor.

Durken excitedly reported, “Many of the materials in this world have excellent properties. With just casual refining, the quality surpasses that of our previous work. I'll see if we can downsize the Starburst Array to fit on the airship. Whoever dares to provoke us next, we'll bombard them with the Starburst Array.”

Chapter end

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