Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton Chapter 956

Chapter 956: 528 Chapter 956: 528 Little sheep? With no wool? Negris also poked his head in, curious to see who was speaking so boldly.

But after one second, two seconds, three seconds… the owl didn't make a sound again.

“Could it be… asleep? We should pluck its feathers and make a nest,” Negris suggested.

The owl sensed the wrong tone of voice and suddenly propped itself up, keeping its body still but twisting its head one hundred and eighty degrees, eyes glaring with light fixed on Ange: “Who are you!? Where's Maca? Get out!”

A powerful surge of spiritual power suddenly erupted, slamming into Ange.

Ange tilted his head.

The owl's eyes rounded in shock. It quickly turned its body, wings positioned defensively in front of itself, looking at Ange in horror.

Negris peeked out from behind, looked at the owl, then at Ange, and asked in confusion, “Did it just… hit you with a spiritual attack?”

Ange nodded.

“Then, why didn't you react?” Negris asked, shrinking back. He could feel the burst of spiritual power from behind, which should have been quite strong.

Ange replied, “It didn't hurt.”

“…Right, out of all things, it chose a spiritual attack, it might as well have pecked you with its beak,” Negris sighed. A spiritual attack probably wouldn't affect Ange unless it was cast by the Undead King himself.

“Who… who exactly are you?” the owl was a bit scared, first by Negris's words and second by Ange's reaction. It was well aware of its spiritual attack's strength, and its spiritual power was its strongest attribute, but that also led to a severe reaction.

Just as the owl finished speaking, its eyes rolled back, and it collapsed onto the board of the bed, motionless.

“Judging from its steady breathing, it must be asleep. What's going on? It can sleep like this, is it the god of sleep?” Negris exclaimed.

Ange said, “Consciousness, strong, body, weak, cannot bear it.”

“Why is that?” Negris asked.

Ange took out the Bronze Book from his waist and patted it, “Seal.”

“Er, you mean its consciousness was sealed inside this owl's body, and because the owl couldn't bear it, it fell asleep? But your saying so is enough; why hit me?” Negris asked.

Ange answered, “The king sealed it.”

“Hiss–” Negris felt a jolt of discomfort.

If it was just a seal, it wouldn't be much of a problem–there were plenty of seals everywhere. But if it was sealed by the Undead King, that was a serious matter. What kind of creature warranted the Undead King's personal attention?

It must be something at the level of a god-level being like himself, the God of Knowledge, right?

“Quick, wake it up and ask what it is,” Negris's curiosity was instantly piqued.

Outside the carriage, the silver coin said, “Master, do we need to prepare a secret interrogation chamber?”

“Exactly, exactly, a quiet, spacious room will do,” Negris said.

There's no need for torture, but a larger room is required. The carriage is too small; even Negris could only stick his head in. Interrogations are Anthony's specialty; it wouldn't do if he didn't come in.

Ange picked up the owl and walked outside.

Suddenly, the owl with its eyes closed made a strong kick and then flapped its wings, soaring into the sky.

I'm flying… I'm flying… I'm flying…

When the owl opened its eyes, it saw Ange remained still, not even his hand holding the owl had changed. More bizarrely, as the owl flapped its wings, it couldn't stir up even a breeze–the wind seemed to be nullified by some invisible force.

The Owl's scrutiny waned as its wings drooped powerlessly, and its talons dangled loosely.

There was no escape, the creature holding it was far too terrifying, its 'cat kick' could instantly take down a plump lamb, yet when used on Ange, there was no reaction at all, let alone the strange dissipating wind technique.

After drooping for a while, the Owl's breathing steadied once again.

Everyone exchanged glances–is it asleep again?

Indeed, it had fallen asleep, for there was no resistance left to offer. Thus, the Owl slept soundly, not waking even as they entered the large room.

Anthony propped up its head and then let go, only for the head to thud down, bouncing a few times with great elasticity, but still, it did not awaken.

Anthony said enviously, “The sleep quality is too good, no worries about insomnia anymore.”

Negris, curious, asked, “You suffer from insomnia?” If not, why sound so envious?

Anthony said, “Of course, during the famine before, I rarely could sleep; I'd stay up all night. When you do that too much, you start losing a lot of hair.”

“Really?” Negris asked, puzzled. She hadn't noticed Anthony losing hair or appearing particularly distressed, nothing like someone suffering from insomnia.

“Of course, but that stopped when I met the Lord. Whenever I felt overly anxious, I'd just call for help, and I had a particularly practical method,” Anthony explained as he reached behind his neck and pressed:
“If you use Battle Qi to press on both sides here for about ten seconds, you'll pass out. For the past few hundred years, that's how I've been falling asleep.”

The offhanded comment gave Negris a chilling feeling, prompting her to blurt out, “You should just call for help then, knocking yourself out like that is harmful.”

“It's fine, I just use Holy Light Therapy when I wake up. It doesn't harm me too much, just a headache for a while.” Anthony elaborated.

Meanwhile, as they were chatting, Ange had also tried several methods but couldn't wake the Owl. Finally, he took out an Elf Bean and placed it under the Owl's nose.

The Owl's whole face stirred, and as it realized what the scent was, it abruptly opened its eyes.

Almost with the speed of Lightning, the Owl snapped up the bean and swallowed it before it could touch the ground. Feeling the fullness of the Elf Bean, its eyes widened again.

“What is this?” the Owl asked excitedly.

“Elf Beans,” said Ange, tossing a handful in his hand as he spoke.

“Is this what the Old Immortal told me about? I didn't taste it, give me another one,” the Owl said animatedly.

“Old Immortal, who is that?” Ange tossed it another bean, which was caught before hitting the ground.

“You wouldn't know even if I told you, just a big shot, the kind you wouldn't dare to imagine,” the Owl replied as it cracked the Elf Bean with its beak and tilted its head back, allowing it to swallow the shattered pieces and feel the change more clearly.

Ange tilted his head.

Negris knew it was their turn to step up, poking her head out and saying with a laugh, “Hehe, if the Old Immortal you speak of refers to the Undead King, then we're quite familiar.”

The Owl rolled its eyes–or rather, its yellow eyes, since its 'whites' were yellow.

“You're close with the Undead King? Then I must be the Undead King. People nowadays brag without even blinking an eye…” Before it could finish, Negris flew to Feiti's side, removed its hat, lifted its cloak, revealing a body of purple-gold bones.

The Owl jumped up, revealing disproportionately long legs, “The Lord of Mourning?! Are you from the Divine Realm? The Old Immortal's former subject?”

“If your Old Immortal is the Undead King, then yes, this is Feiti, Flash Feiti,” Negris added.

The Owl was amazed: “I've heard of you, the Old Immortal has mentioned your name, it's incredible you could find your way here from the Divine Realm. I am the Dragon Sorcerer Druid, Silba.”

PS: I went through a check-up and they found lesions resembling gallbladder polyps; I'll be going for a few more tests tomorrow.

Chapter end

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