Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton Chapter 957

Chapter 957: Chapter 529: Ancestral Lord, I am willing Chapter 957: Chapter 529: Ancestral Lord, I am willing “So, you're not His Majesty's enemy? He sealed you to save your life?” Negris asked in surprise.

“Exactly, if I were an enemy, why not just kill me? Why seal me? My soul was shattered by an Annihilation Warlock from the Sorcerer Alliance through some sneaky method. There was no other way; His Majesty had to seal me inside an owl. However, the owl's body is too weak, forcing me to molt and be reborn every few years. I'm constantly so sleepy I can barely take care of myself,” Silba rambled without much regard for Ange and the others' identities, mainly because Feiti was proof enough. The Undead Empire in this world had been formed too recently, less than a thousand years ago, hardly enough time to foster the Lord of Mourning. Thus, Feiti could only be a loyal follower of the Monarch.

“So, the tree rice, did you graft that?” Negris was about to ask something else, but Ange couldn't help but poke his back–other things could wait, let's clear up the tree rice first, there's no sense of priority, it's killing the skeleton.

“Tree rice? What tree rice? You mean that fake tool that combines a tree and rice?” Silba asked, already aware that it was a trick.

“Yes, but we're interested not in the tool but in the technique used to graft the tree and rice together. How did you manage to make them thrive?” Negris asked.

Silba glanced at him and then at Ange, suddenly yawning big, almost falling asleep.

Ange quickly offered him a handful of Elf Beans.

Silba instantly perked up, crunching the Elf Beans quickly but didn't swallow them. Instead, he stuffed them in his mouth like a hamster and mumbled:
“After being sealed in this body, I thought of many ways to solve the sleepiness, but none worked, unless I devoured a small fatty sheep. The Old Immortal once said that if I could find Elf Beans, the energy they provide should sustain my activities, and indeed, he was right.”

Negris asked, “So, you're sleepy because you're hungry, and if you're not hungry, you won't be sleepy?”

Silba shook his head, “Not exactly, I'd still be sleepy, but at least I wouldn't be unable to take care of myself like now.”

After a pause, Silba continued, “As for how the grafting succeeded, you wouldn't understand even if I explained.”

“Oh come on, is there anything I don't understand? Just tell me, if I don't get it, I'll crawl like a lizard!” Negris boasted, feeling confident with the backing of the God of Farming.

“Oh, bet that big? Alright, listen carefully,” Silba was shocked. Being a Dragon Sorcerer, it knew the last thing the Giant Dragon Clan wanted was to be compared to lizards, and yet he was willing to crawl like one?

“Herb plants lack lignin compared to woody plants, so if you do this and that, and then this and that again, they can thrive. There are a few tricky parts, one being highly concentrated nutrients, and the other is creating an environment where lignin can grow in herb plants. Guess how I solved it?”

Negris, arms akimbo, laughed, “Such a trivial issue doesn't even need my input. I could send anyone to answer this question.” He then dramatically stepped aside to reveal Ange.

Silba snorted disdainfully, “I had figured it out; he is the king among you. Who are you?”

His last question was directed at Ange.

Negris said, “Allow me to introduce him royally: he is the master of the Resting Camp, the heir to the Undead Godhood, the God of Farming, Goddess of Beauty, God of Balance…”

By the time Negris had finished introducing Ange's titles according to convention, Silba had already fallen asleep.

After waking him up, he rolled his eyes dramatically, “You're bluffing from a script, aren't you? Alright, alright, I know. You guess first how I managed it, or else you'll have to crawl like a lizard.”

Ange pointed at the ceiling and said, “Void.”

“Oh? You actually guessed it? Lignin evolved in plants as a defense against gravity and wind. In ancient times, ferns were predominant. So, I tried grafting two plants in a microgravity environment, and it really allowed them to thrive,” Silba boasted proudly.

After a pause, he continued, “But it's pointless, grafting alone won't turn it into real tree rice; it's just rice that grows on trees. It still lacks the crucial mutation, but achieving that is too difficult. Without sufficient scale and the blessing of the Goddess of Fortune, it's impossible.”

The blessing of the Goddess of Fortune? Negris's eyes lit up; this could be possible.

Continuing, Silba switched to complaint mode, “I tried many substances as nutrient solutions, but none worked well. Microgravity environments are also hard to find and weren't effective, only producing such deceptive tools. In the end, Maca suggested we come here to swindle some money, but it seems that plan has failed.”

Negris said sympathetically, “Yeah, it failed because the event was hosted by one of our own, and we saw right through it. But really, how did you end up in such a mess that you need to scam people to make a living?”

Silba replied irritably, “What else can I do? An owl that's always nodding off, an owl that falls asleep while snatching little lambs and then crashes to the ground–how else am I supposed to feed myself if not by scamming?”

“But you can't even scam properly. What about Your Majesty? Doesn't Your Majesty care about you? According to you, you have a pretty good relationship with Your Majesty, don't you? Couldn't you go back to the Undead Empire and find someone to support you?” Negris asked.

Silba said, “I've been like this for over eight hundred years. At first, being taken care of was pretty comfortable, but it became annoying as time went on. You know what Undead are like–always sleeping, sometimes for decades. Several times I almost starved to death. Later, I was fostered at a human farm, raised sheep for many years, but after the old farmer and his great-grandson died, the farm was sold. It was boring.”

Although Silba spoke casually, Negris and the others could already imagine an epic Knight novel–About the Dragon Sorcerer Druid fostered at home who ate through a farm.

The change in Silba's mentality was, in fact, similar to many Undead; immortality was not necessarily a blessing for some, but rather a curse. Rogge was prone to depression, Auburnli was bossy, which is why she became a disciplinary director.

And because of its energy, Silba liked to slack off; as long as it wasn't harmed, it didn't get upset no matter what you did to it. If you could provide it a few lambs, all the better; it would even try its best to fulfill some of your wishes.

Of course, your wishes couldn't be too complex, otherwise it would fall asleep halfway through.

Maca had exactly this sort of relationship with it; Maca worshiped it as a god, and it fulfilled some of Maca's simple requests, like blessing a stone, making dead wood bloom, or cultivating a few precious magical plants.

However, these simple tasks were clearly insufficient for their daily needs, so they were impoverished as ghosts. Having no other choice, they had to bring out their “ultimate move,” the 'Magic Tree,' and let Maca scam people with it.

“That tree, I had eaten three little lambs and spent a whole day creating a local microgravity space for it before grafting, and now it's alive, but it won't live long unless it's moved to a permanent microgravity space,” Silba explained, then licked its tongue and pushed an Elf Bean from its mouth down its throat, the third one it had eaten.

At that moment, a silver coin's guard quietly came in and whispered something in Silver Coin's ear.

Silver Coin turned to Ange and reported, “Sir, in the parking lot, we caught a shifty-looking human snooping around Lord Silba's carriage. The guards have apprehended him; he claims he's a local butcher who came to collect money from Lord Silba.”

Everyone looked at Silba, who immediately felt embarrassed, “Hehe, if he's a butcher, then indeed… he's here to collect money. I just mentioned, I ate three little lambs and haven't paid yet.”

“… Aren't you afraid the butcher would slaughter you, pluck you, and sell you off?” Negris didn't know what to say.

Silba's eyes lit up, “Slaughtered would be good, slaughter would be great. After I die, I'll be reborn, and I'll have more energy for a while when I'm young, and only as I get older will I start to feel sleepy.”

“It works like that? Are you really an owl or an Undead Phoenix?” Negris exclaimed.

“I'm a Druid, dummy. It's the effect of the Ultimate Transformation Technique; I can transform when I'm in the soul state. Of course, the process is complicated, involving the burning of life and body,” Silba explained.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” Negris clicked his tongue, saying Druid felt unremarkable, but mentioning the Ultimate Transformation Technique indicated its level–it was certainly the level of a Great Druid now.

“Then why don't you kill yourself every few years to refresh your energy before it declines, so you aren't sluggish all the time like a Kobold?”

Silba looked him up and down, a look of seeing an idiot on its face, “I'm not trying to unify the Plane; wouldn't that just be stabbing myself and rushing to take out my own trash?”

“Uh… your ability to retort is really high. Go and give the little lamb its money and let the butcher in,” Negris said bitterly.

Silba rolled its eyes, “I know who you are, Little Fat Dragon, God of Knowledge. Knowledge has to be paid for. I even taught you the grafting method, and this is how you treat me?”

Negris rolled his eyes as well; the butcher was undoubtedly sent away already. He just wanted to irritate Silba a bit, but he didn't expect Silba to use his identity against him. This dead bird's retorting ability was indeed strong.

Now that the key to grafting had been asked, all that was left was to reproduce it. Ange was already prepared to start, seizing the opportunity, Negris asked, “What if we said we could unlock your seal, and just happen to have a petrified Giant Dragon body into which we could transfer your consciousness, would you still want to become a Giant Dragon?”

The moment he finished speaking, Negris felt a tightness around his thigh as the owl swooped over and clung tightly to his leg, its eyes wide and gleaming, smiling, “Great Ancestor, I would like that.”

PS: The physical checkup was good, no major issues, but I still have mild fatty liver, truly Kvada, for someone who pays attention to fitness like me.

Chapter end

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