Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton
Chapter 1164 - Chapter 1164 Chapter 728 Becoming Part of the Catastrophe

Chapter 1164: Chapter 728: Becoming Part of the Catastrophe Chapter 1164: Chapter 728: Becoming Part of the Catastrophe Glory to my Lord!

As God’s spokesperson on earth, the interpreter of divine will, the harbinger of sacred sounds, and the wielder of the sword of punishment, all of Anthony’s actions represented Ange.

But this spokesperson’s power was rather off the charts; only Ange would employ a deity itself to act as its own spokesperson.

Hence, Ange was essentially the foundation carrying all souls; Anthony was merely representing Ange in unleashing the King’s Arrival and the Undead Calamity.

Right, this was fundamentally the Golden Skeleton’s King’s Arrival. The lengthy incantation Anthony recited was mainly for show, for making the process more solemn and sacred, to create a stronger mental shock. After the pretense, the calamity was finally released.

If you ask about its utility, it indeed had no significant use in the King’s Arrival; if you consider it useless, it actually sways quite a number of people and plays an immeasurable role in the propagation of faith.

You could tell just by looking at the sparkling eyes of that human female slave.

Nevertheless, Anthony still underestimated the terrifying amount accumulated from the bones and souls over tens of thousands of years, which even bent the backs of the two Undead Gods.

Next to the Blood Pool Demon Palace was the sacrificial blood pool, and beside the blood pool, there was a trench–or what used to be a trench. Now this enormous ditch was almost filled with corpses, both desiccated and fresh.

One after another, human and elf slaves were dragged to the edge of the blood pool, their throats slit to drain their blood. Once bled dry, they were pushed down a chute, sliding into the ditch. Due to the stacking of bodies, demons came to refer to this place as the River of Dead Bodies.

Two demon executioners worked in tandem with practiced ease, processing the slaves like chickens, idly chatting, “I heard the River of Dead Bodies has been around for over tens of thousands of years. Who knows how many bodies have been thrown in.”

“Why don’t you do the math? Every five years, one million are sacrificed. In fifty years, that’s ten million; in a hundred years, twenty million; in a thousand years, two hundred million; and in ten thousand years, how much?” The other demon couldn’t continue calculating; his arithmetic skills were good by demon standards, but this figure exceeded his comprehension–he didn’t recognize the units that followed tens of thousands.

Lifting the slave in hand, the demon asked, “So, how much in ten thousand years?”

Trembling with excitement, the slave replied, “Two billion, it’s two billion in ten thousand years. Please don’t kill me, lord, please don’t kill me. I’m useful, I can do math, don’t kill me.”

The demon nodded, “I won’t kill you,” and then set him down.

The slave grovelled in gratitude, “Thank you, lord, thank you, lord…”

Before he could finish his words, an icy chill struck his neck, and he could clearly see blood spraying several meters from his throat. Stunned, he watched the blood spurt wildly until darkness enveloped his vision.

The demon picked up the corpse, shook it to drain the blood, then tossed it into the chute, remarking, “It’s not like I was the one who cut. I’m just the transport guy.”

The demon who made the cuts asked, perplexed, “Even the math-savvy slave was sacrificed? What a waste. The big lords have long been accustomed to being served by slaves. If all are sacrificed, how are they supposed to leave the house? Walk?”

“Who knows what the sovereign Lord thinks. My household’s dozen slaves were all taken too. Marshal Big Head barely inquired and was promptly executed by the Lord. Now no one dares ask,” the demon complained.

“Forget it, let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about the River of Dead Bodies. As you said, it’s been around for over tens of thousands of years. Normally, the bones from that long ago should’ve turned to ash by now, shouldn’t they? How could it fill the River of Dead Bodies?” asked the demon who made the cuts.

“I don’t know. But ever since my ancestor’s ancestors’ ancestors… from that time, the height of the River of Dead Bodies has kept on rising. They say there’s a kind of black mist inside, protecting these bodies. Generation after generation of Lords has sent people down to clear the mist; if not, over time, that mist will cause the bodies to rise up… up… up…”

“Rise up? What do you mean?”

“Move… move… they’ve moved,” the demon pointed towards the River of Dead Bodies, where the very slave they had just slit the throat of was now rolling his eyes back, struggling to climb out from the River of Dead Bodies. Behind him, more and more corpses continuously crawled out of the river.

“`

…

The Earth Hammer was simply a natural counter to the Earth Demon. Giraldo elegantly flicked with two fingers, and immediately, spikes shot from the ground, aiming at the Little Angel flying above.

Such Earth spikes were a tremendously troublesome attack in Giraldo’s hands. Even if they didn’t hit the target, they would burst upon getting close, scattering debris over a wide area. One would need to maneuver over a large range to avoid them, leading to enormous energy consumption.

However, the Little Angel swung her hammer down onto the Earth spikes, not only shattering the spikes beneath the hammer but also triggering a shockwave that pulverized the following spikes and destroyed the structure of the Earth Element, preventing them from exploding.

Swinging the hammer, the Little Angel charged, aiming the hammer at Giraldo.

Giraldo stood his ground and countered with a punch, the earth beneath his feet cracking and his legs embedding into the ground, connecting with it.

The Power of Earth is not purely that of a Lava Demon. The Earth Monument they leave behind after death is also indestructible. Giraldo, now one with the earth, was likewise unbreakable…

The Earth Hammer struck Giraldo’s fist, sending him flying away…

Seeing this, Negris knew Little Angel couldn’t lose; a Six-winged Archangel was a being on par with Gods, with combat strength perhaps even greater than that of noncombatant Gods like Libra Redemption. Her only weakness was the lack of Divine Techniques, but she had Ange watching over her.

And Giraldo was just a Demon King, a combative demon but utterly restrained by the Holy Hammer, doomed to lose.

Turning to look at Ange, he saw the two Undead Gods beside him standing upright, their Soul Flames reaching for the sky.

“How is it? Holding up?” Negris asked.

Ange shook his head, “Too much, reduce it.”

He could sense too many ‘lines,’ a dense tangle that nearly crushed the two Undead Gods to the ground. He had to temporarily give up some.

Moreover, he could feel a large amount of Soul Energy flowing continuously to him through these lines. This meant that Ange’s current use of King’s Arrival was not draining his energy but was instead providing him with more.

Negris’ tongue clicked in amazement, “You’ve got two Undead Godhoods struggling to cope; how many people did they sacrifice?”

After a pause, it asked, “Though, the King’s Arrival summons just ordinary corpses. With demons everywhere, it’s hard to harm them. Is it of any use?”

Anthony said, “No, no, no, this isn’t just a regular King’s Arrival, but an Undead Calamity. The Lord gave the corpses the ability to move with King’s Arrival, and I, using the Lord’s power, endowed the corpses with the power of a calamity. You haven’t experienced an Undead Calamity, have you?”

Negris shook its head, as it would usually fly up into the sky at the first sight of Undead creatures, having no chance to witness one.

“Undead Calamity – rot, plague, infection – these are all basic. The Lord’s power can also add more variations to the calamity. However, first, don’t get scratched by the corpses, or else you will quickly become a rotten corpse and part of the calamity,” Anthony explained.

…

Two executioner demons were quickly overrun by the corpses. They struck down one or two, but were still wounded by more of them at their weaker spots. Soon, they discovered their wounds oozing gray fluid, which began to spread.

“Damn, it’s a plague! Quick, dispel it!” The demons were alarmed. One flexed his arm, causing the wound to petrify instantly. He then took a knife and cut away the affected area, momentarily stopping the spread.

Looking toward the River of Dead Bodies, from which corpses continuously rose, the demons no longer felt the ease they did at the start. If all the corpses from the river rose, they would be enough to flood the entire Blood Pool Demon Palace.

“`