Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton
Chapter 1051 - Chapter 1051 Chapter 617 Who is Turus Im not though

Chapter 1051: Chapter 617: Who is Turus? I’m not though Chapter 1051: Chapter 617: Who is Turus? I’m not though Everyone could hear Drosa take a deep breath, and the Durkens exchanged glances, whispering, “It’s a creature with the instinct to breathe.”

Breathing is a very instinctual action. Anthony, having transmigrated from a human to an Undead and then back to a human again, underwent dozens of transmigrations and always retained this instinct. It wasn’t intentional, but he would invariably do it when he lost control of his emotions.

Negris was no exception, and the same was true for the majority of the Undead beings who had transmigrated from humans.

But Ange didn’t, being a native Undead being without the instinct to breathe. No matter how shocked he was, the most he could do was tilt his head, as did the Little Zombie.

However, the Little Angel was different. Although she didn’t need to breathe, she would inhale when angry, puffing herself up adorably, which made it obvious to everyone that she was upset.

Drosa’s involuntary breathing indicated that his most primal memories contained this instinct, allowing him to be ruled out as a native Undead, a Void Creature, or a being without lungs.

Drosa was indeed gasping because he was too moved. Had Ange brought out anything other than what he did, Drosa wouldn’t have been so excited, even if the energy he had just lost had doubled and come back to him, because he could accumulate energy.

But why had he amassed so much energy and used faith leaping, a method with such great consumption, to send it here? What for?

A fulcrum, a point that could anchor in this world, and God Status was such a point.

Why did he have it? Why did he know that I wanted it?

Everyone could see Drosa’s struggle, but before he could act, the Energy Orb suddenly collapsed and vanished in an instant.

“Eh? It ran away? What happened?” Everyone was stunned.

The moment Ange pulled out the God Status, he distinctly felt Drosa’s emotions surge with desire, and then it ran away… Ran away? Such a change was truly baffling.

As everyone looked at each other, Ange heard a faint voice: “Do you desire power? Do you crave wealth? What is it that you desire the most? Come to me, and I can fulfill all your desires.”

The voice was actually full of temptation, and it carried an enchanting power, but it was ineffective against Ange, so it sounded like a fledgling actor reciting lines, completely unenchanting.

Ange, driven by curiosity, extended his consciousness towards it, and the voice immediately encouraged him: “Yes, that’s it, come here, express your desires. In this place, all your desires can be satisfied–eh!?”

At the end, the voice seemed startled, as if it had seen something unbelievable.

A landscape slowly unfolded before Ange’s eyes, a mighty river roaring and flowing into the distance. The land terraced down with the highest elevation being a mountain range densely forested, dominated by a towering World Tree, with the river originating from the World Tree and surging down.

Around the World Tree were Divine Woods, around which Elf Bean Vines coiled, with Silkworm Babies metamorphosing on the World Tree, the Divine Woods, and the Elf Bean Vines.

Beyond lay date trees, breadfruit trees, and other woody plants Ange was familiar with, as well as grassy plants like bamboo. On the mountain range, there were also God flowers and Ice Grass, plants that thrived in cold temperatures.

Soul Moss, Sacred Mushrooms, and Cemetery Grass clung to the rocks, while in the lower terraces, neat rows of one or two types of crops were planted, including tall Tree Rice, low Swamp Rice, Saline Demon Rice, and Enhanced Magic Rice.

Each terrace had a different temperature, each growing the crop that was best suited to that climate.

The river surged forward to its midsection, where it joined a vast lake, adorned with numerous floating planting boards teeming with soilless rice.

Clusters of seaweed flowers bloomed across the lake’s surface, a pristine white expanse like the earth after a heavy snowfall.

It was precisely this sight that completely baffled Drosa. What was happening? He had clearly been deceiving and pulling the other’s consciousness into his own Consciousness Space, manifesting deep-seated desires of the soul to tempt the other into betrayal. How did he suddenly end up in the middle of a field?

So neat, so orderly, so professional-looking…

“I… this… this…” For the first time, Drosa felt at a loss for words. When he had manifested others’ desires, they were always opulent palaces, treasure-filled vaults, beds strewn with bodies, or scenes of assorted delicacies–what was with manifesting a farmland? Could there really be people whose desire was to farm?

His gaze fell upon Ange, who was carrying a large scythe, angrily staring at him, “Turus! You burned my field!” Then he charged over with a thunderous rumble.

“What? Burn your field? Who’s Turus, who is Turus? I am not Turus.” The demon-possessed Drosa, completely perplexed, hastily waved his hands in denial.

However, he didn’t take the incoming scythe too seriously, not even planning to dodge, because this was the Consciousness Space, where attacks couldn’t cause harm. He was just puzzled about how he inexplicably became Turus–who was Turus?

But as the scythe’s tip was about to touch him, a strong sense of danger surged in Drosa’s heart, which made his eyes widen and he leaned back as if electrocuted.

His reaction was undoubtedly quick, but the scythe, originally meant to sweep past his nose, inexplicably extended a bit, accurately hooking onto his body.

Drosa’s vision blurred, and a huge force tugged him towards some deep place. An intense sense of crisis told him: break free, break free, or it’s certain death!

Drosa struggled with all his might, feeling a tearing pain with his consciousness, but the strong sense of crisis still made him endure the agony, struggling fiercely.

In a flash, the scenery sped by, and Drosa’s consciousness swiftly retracted to his body, focusing only on a scythe and a pair of angry eyes.

In an unknown world, Drosa, who was sitting in a chair, suddenly leaned back, toppling over the chairback, and thumped onto the ground.

Dizzy for a while, Drosa finally climbed up from the ground, holding his left cheek, grimacing as if he was having a toothache.

Although there were no injuries on his face, there were on his consciousness. Ange’s scythe had struck his consciousness, and the Death Scythe actually caused damage to his consciousness, making him feel as if his entire face was in pain.

“Hiss–what kind of ghostly attack is that, managing to harm the consciousness? This is the first time someone has hurt me in the Consciousness Space. What kind of attack was that?” Suddenly recalling something, Drosa gasped again, “Hiss–the scythe? The Undead Ruler?”

Quietly leaving his hiding spot, quietly sneaking to the edge, quietly peering out, he saw in the far mist a great shadow moving slowly, occasionally watering, weeding, or sowing, also carrying a huge scythe.

As if sensing something, the shadow turned its head to look his way, where the eyes seemed to be flickering with two green sparks.

Drosa felt his soul freezing, slowly closed his eyes, slowly shrunk his head, and slowly crept away.

“Kvada, could that guy be a subordinate of the Undead Ruler? Isn’t the Guardian supposed to be Annihilation Old Bone? Who is he?”