Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton
Chapter 1213 - Chapter 1213 Chapter 777 Bone Growth Considered Hyperplasia

Chapter 1213: Chapter 777: Bone Growth Considered Hyperplasia Chapter 1213: Chapter 777: Bone Growth Considered Hyperplasia “Great, you Old Immortal, did you mess up my skill and steal my prophetic ability? Give me back my Prophet Ability!” Negris shouted angrily.

Among the Three Ancient Dragons, the Time Dragon, Space Dragon, and Prophet Dragon, the Bronze Dragon was known as the Prophet Dragon, possessing the ability to predict and foresee the future within a certain time frame.

This ability was far superior to Shamara’s hit-or-miss predictive ability; it was a true foresight into the future.

However, Negris couldn’t unleash the true power of this ability. At best, during fights, it could foresee an enemy’s claw swing in advance and dodge it early.

But if the power gap was too wide, foresight was useless; it couldn’t dodge anyway, like when Locke beat it up.

So, this kind of prophetic ability was equivalent to a useless appendage to it, not even as useful as its own claws.

But as useless as it was, you can’t just steal it, let alone wipe its memory afterward. Is there no justice left?

Okay, even if there’s no justice, to steal it and then break it, that’s just too much.

A puff of smoke slowly drifted over and transformed into a massive figure that looked very familiar to Ange, only now it was the size of an ordinary person. The figure’s gaze landed on Negris, and with heartfelt sorrow, it said, “Nage, you’ve lost weight.”

Negris retorted unhappily, “Lost weight? Are you skinnier than me? You’ve slimmed down to nothing but bones.”

The Monarch expressed surprise, “Eh, talking back? And quite cleverly at that. I indeed am nothing but bones and can’t argue with that. Who did you learn from?”

“Hmph, don’t change the subject. Did you break my power of foresight?” Negris asked, its wagging little tail betraying the pleasure it felt inside.

“Hehe, it’s not my fault; it just stopped working for some reason,” the Monarch said with a sheepish grin. “I’ll give it back to you once it’s back on the main body.”

Negris didn’t buy that nonsense, “This isn’t some magic equipment that stops working if you leave it aside for too long. Have you been so idle lately that your powers have weakened, and now your vision is blurred?”

The Monarch was genuinely surprised, “You’ve gotten really good at arguments, not just incessant nagging like before. You’ve grown up. What happened at home to make you like this?”

“So much has happened at home, it’d be better if you started. What happened to you? Why did you come to the Chaos Plane here and become the Undead Ruler? Why have you become so powerful? Even the Primordial Gods are running from you. Why could you predict the Faith Storm but not the Chaos Tide? What are you farming here? What field of yours did the Dark Origin burn? Why…”

Negris bombarded the Monarch with questions like one of Ange’s magic spells, leaving the Monarch dizzy.

Seeing this wouldn’t do, Anthony quickly stepped forward, bowing, “Your Majesty, do you remember me?”

The Monarch’s thoughts scanned Anthony, and suddenly, as if seeing something miraculous, circled around him, clicking his tongue in wonder.

“Piero, you’ve been resurrected, transformed from an Undead to the Black Warrior and then back to a living being? The reincarnation altar you invented is so amazing. I only foresaw you becoming an Archbishop–with the surging Power of Holy Light from you, you really became the Archbishop of the Church of Light?”

“No, Your Majesty, I am now the Pope of Light, the representative of the God of Balance on earth, and also the representative of the Undead God on earth. Can you foresee who has inherited your Undead God Status?” Anthony asked.

The Monarch shook his head, “I can’t foresee it. Someone really inherited the Undead God Status? Who is it? They would need my power to be able to inherit the God Status and the Resting Palace. You said it before and I didn’t believe you, who inherited it?”

While saying this, the Monarch’s gaze shifted to Ange, examining him closely. Of everyone present, only Ange gave him a feeling of vagueness that he couldn’t figure out, but he couldn’t remember who Ange was.

“Guess, keep guessing, take your time and guess,” Negris said with arms akimbo and delighting in the Monarch’s troubled rumination.

“I can’t guess, spit it out or I’ll thrash you,” the Monarch said.

Negris, smiling, replied, “Do you remember that farm at the edge of the Resting Palace?”

The Monarch responded, “I remember, when I was bored, I’d project into the body of a Golden Skeleton and go there to farm. Are you saying he is that Golden Skeleton?”

“Keep guessing,” Negris said with a smile.

The Monarch hefted the scythe, shook it, and the scythe transformed into a wolf tooth club, poised to smash.

“It’s the farming skeleton from the farm,” Negris said, paying close attention to the Monarch’s facial expressions and body movements. Seeing the Monarch shudder with an expression of sheer disbelief, it secretly reveled in satisfaction.

I’ll scare you to death for stealing my skills and wiping my memory.

“How is that possible? The skeletons I placed on the farm are the lowest grade dry bones; their souls couldn’t possibly endure the Undead Godhood. Besides, I had absolutely no prediction about it. Negris, is your Predictive Ability that weak?” the Monarch asked in shock.

Negris retorted angrily, “Weak? Yet you still steal it. Clearly, you spoilt it, and then blame my Predictive Ability for your inability to sense it. Shameless, give it back to me.”

Anthony had no choice but to interrupt their conversation; if he let them digress like this, they would never get to the key information: “Your Majesty, can you really not predict Lord Nage’s existence?”

“Just now, you said you foresaw me becoming the Archbishop but didn’t know I became the Pope. You also didn’t foresee Lord Nage arriving here and seemed surprised by his appearance. May I ask Your Majesty, up until which point in time did your predictions cease to be effective?”

The Monarch immediately understood what Anthony meant: “My Power of the Prophet began to fail a few years ago. Are you suggesting that something prevented the Power of the Prophet? Him?”

The Monarch’s gaze fell upon Ange. Ange cocked his head, curiously looking back at the Monarch. This image had always been lurking deep within his soul. Even when he was in the Resting Palace, it consistently scared him into entering the palace to search for better skeletons.

Finally meeting face to face, Ange saw another familiar figure on him. It was a Golden Skeleton squatting at the ridge of a field, the lord who created him–Ange’s true king.

Previously, Negris and Anthony always said that the lord in the farm was the Monarch’s avatar. From their similar body movements, Ange was certain; they were indeed one and the same.

Anthony said, “I don’t know the specific traits of the Power of the Prophet, but in the Master Plane, we know a Saintess from the Church of Light who also has the same Predictive Ability. However, her ability cannot affect those more powerful than her. So, could it be that Lord Nage has surpassed the Predictive Ability’s scope?”

“Possibly. The Power of the Prophet has no effect on the Abyssal Big Mouth, Dark Origin, and that elusive Void Will. Huh, is this child really that powerful?” the Monarch said, clearly surprised.

At this point, the Monarch finally remembered something, “What’s your name?”

He hadn’t yet gotten the chance to ask Ange’s name.

“Ange,” Ange said.

The Monarch was greatly alarmed: “You? I remember there was this skeleton in the farm that wouldn’t rot away no matter what. So, I casually named it Ange. It can’t be you, can it?”

Unable to contain himself, Negris burst into uproarious laughter: “Ahahaha, guess why it wouldn’t rot.”

Ange nodded, so that’s why he was called Ange. Otherwise, a farming skeleton wouldn’t need a name.

The Monarch let out a long sigh, “This is truly an unbelievable matter. A skeleton so fragile back then has now become an existence beyond the prediction of the Power of the Prophet; at the very least, it’s of the Origin of Chaos tier now. Such a shame…”

Negris spoke irritably: “What do you mean by that? How is it a shame? Isn’t this a good thing?”

The Monarch shook his head: “No, I just mean it’s a pity it was so short-lived. The Dark Origin burned down my farmland, as well as the New World God Tree I had planted above it. Without the Tree of Ten Thousand Realms, there’s no way to reverse the collapse of the Void…”

As he said this, the Monarch noticed the strange expressions on the faces of Negris and Anthony and couldn’t help asking, “What are those looks for?”

“Uh, Your Majesty, what if I told you we’ve also planted a Tree of Ten Thousand Realms, a living one?” Anthony said with an odd look on his face.

“You must be joking. It’s not that easy to grow a Tree of Ten Thousand Realms. It has to evolve from the World Tree, to the Void Tree, and then into the Tree of Ten Thousand Realms. Do you have a World Tree, a Void Tree… tree…?” the Monarch stammered.

Because he saw a Little Sapling sprouting from Ange’s shoulder, turning its head drowsily. When it saw the only person it didn’t recognize, the Monarch, it immediately perked up, waving its True Leaves and sending out an enthusiastic message: Put– in– effort–

As soon as the message went out, Anthony gently pressed it down. The bones could not grow; if bones grew, it would be considered excessive growth.

ps: Strange, can’t sync with the cloud drive, can’t log in to the webpage, can only copy to my phone to upload, how strange.