Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton
Chapter 1349 - Chapter 1349 Chapter 910 King This Is a King

Chapter 1349: Chapter 910: King? This Is a King? Chapter 1349: Chapter 910: King? This Is a King? Ange’s consciousness was flung toward the end of the void. At first, countless colorful lights streaked past him backward, as if his consciousness was traversing a rainbow-colored passageway, a phenomenon unique to high-speed movement.

However, quickly, those lights disappeared, leaving only pitch darkness. If it wasn’t for Ange sensing the distance between himself and his physical body growing further, he might have thought he was not moving at all.

Is this the Energy Level Great Desert?

Ange suddenly had a deeper understanding of the Energy Level Great Desert. Truly, there was nothing, not even the phenomenon specific to high-speed movement.

After a long time, Ange still felt nothing, meaning he was still in the midst of the “desert.” He silently calculated the distance–he had traveled across at least the span of sixteen anchors of the Chaos Plane.

Keep in mind, a single anchor point was one hundred and sixty million kilometers, adding both sides together, plus the width of the Chaos Plane itself, the distance between the end anchors was at least four hundred million kilometers.

Yet now, after having traversed the distance equivalent to sixteen such anchors, he still felt nothing.

Seventeen… Nineteen… Thirty… Ange felt his strength continuously depleting, to the point where he began to feel exhausted.

Could he die? Could consciousness perish if it strays too far from its physical body? Had the consciousness of the Primordial Divine Light disappeared in this way in ancient times?

Ange stopped, surrounded by darkness so absolute that it was impossible to discern up from down, left from right. There was nothing, nothing to perceive.

What reassured him was that when he stopped, his power began to slowly recover, a continuous stream of Faith Elemental Force feeding into his consciousness.

Even he was struggling, could it be that the King had called out for help because he was flung too far?

No, no, Ange quickly shook his head to dismiss that guess. He was merely projecting his consciousness, while the King had been flung along with his entire soul, unlikely to perish from straying too far from the Origin.

But without the power from his physical body, could the King’s soul energy deplete to the point of extinction?

Ange rarely let his thoughts wander aimlessly, but the silence around him was so profound, he could not see anything, could do nothing but let his mind roam, unable to even plant crops.

So bored, not waiting to fully recover and having accumulated a bit of strength, Ange continued to fly forward.

Flying, stopping, flying, stopping, after an indeterminate amount of time, Ange suddenly sensed the King’s aura. The aura was like a beacon, clearly pointing to a specific location.

Ange was so affected by this state that he wanted to sleep, wishing he could sink into slumber for a while, and only after fully regaining his strength fly straight there. But he didn’t know if the King would still be “alive” by then.

So as soon as he felt the aura, he couldn’t care about anything else and immediately directed himself toward the marker left by the King, then his consciousness went dark.

“Smack!” Ange was awakened by a kick and a string of cursing, “Get to work right away, always slacking off. If parts weren’t so expensive, I’d dismantle you.”

Ange looked up and saw a “human.” Why the quotes? Because Ange wasn’t sure; although the figure looked exactly like a human, it was filled with the Power of Chaos.

Ange tilted his head and took a look at himself–his consciousness was actually attached to a Mechanical Construct? In the chest was embedded a Black Crystal, a Chaos Black Crystal?

Inside this Black Crystal, Ange sensed the aura of the King.

The King left his mark on this Black Crystal? Where was the King?

Ange was filled with doubts as he looked around.

In the distance, as far as the eye could see, were rows of low shrubs, extending to the horizon.

Between the shrubs, spaced apart at intervals, were Mechanical Constructs identical to him, tending to the shrubs, pruning the branches, harvesting the fruit.

But these shrubs were not bearing fruit; instead, they bore red Crystal Stones.

It seemed this was a farm where Mechanical Constructs were cultivated to grow red Crystal Stones.

Ange glanced at the red Crystal Stone, realizing it was filled with the Power of Chaos. Power of Chaos could grow out of the ground?

The sight before him overturned Ange’s understanding. The Power of Chaos was the exclusive force of the Ancient Godlight, bringing matter and energy to chaos, one of the most primal forces of the void. Yet now, it obediently resided within the crystal, without any hint of chaos.

The Black Crystal in his chest was also strange. Despite being a Chaos Black Crystal, it was embedded in an ordinary Mechanical Construct. Similar Constructs filled the farm, nothing special about them.

And that human was strange too. He appeared human but possessed the Power of Chaos. Why could a human have such a primal force of the void?

With everything possessing the most primal force of the void so liberally, no wonder the King had shouted for help. It seemed he had arrived in a magical place.

“Ah, it stopped moving again, annoying, these pieces of junk break at the slightest thing. When will the top brass send over some high-quality goods?” Perhaps because he got lost in thought and had stood idle too long, others thought he was broken, and the voice that had woken Ange earlier rang out again.

Humans came over, grabbed Ange by the neck, and dragged him out of the farm. They brought him into a building that seemed like a warehouse and tossed him into a corner, shouting loudly, “Wrench, another one’s broken, fix it quick, or there won’t be anything left to do the work.”

The corner was already piled high with a mishmash of identical Mechanical Constructs. Ange didn’t understand what was happening, so he didn’t dare to move, lying quietly among the Constructs.

Not far away, at a repair desk, the human named Wrench lifted his head and replied with dissatisfaction, “If there’s nothing to work with, go to the fields yourself. I don’t have eight hands; how can I fix them all? It would be better if you applied for some high-end goods from above.”

High-end goods again, it seemed that the people here yearned for better quality.

Ange glanced secretly at the Wrench and noticed he was also filled with the Power of Chaos. What was going on? Did all humans here come with the Power of Chaos as standard?

“I’d like to,” the human who had brought Ange in said, “but every time I apply, they above say ‘it’s not like it can’t be used.’ Are you fixing it or not? I need to go work the fields, and you can’t escape it, either. You’re next in line.” After saying that, he turned and left.

Wrench grunted discontentedly, came over to Ange, looked at him, and said with heartache, “This damn guy, doesn’t take care of anything, doesn’t do any maintenance at all, no wonder things break every day.”

While muttering under his breath, Wrench brought some lubricant and a knee joint, replaced Ange’s badly worn left knee with it, then sprayed him with the lubricant.

After a thorough check-up, Wrench said, “Nothing’s broken; must be out of Soul Power. Come on, let’s charge you up.”

Having said that, he hung Ange onto a rack and inserted a tube into the chest, perfectly covering the Black Crystal. He flicked a switch, then went back to the repair desk.

A continual flow of Soul Energy surged into the Chaos Black Crystal through the tube.

The entire ‘charging’ process lasted until late at night, but just as the clock struck six, a mechanical timer in the warehouse made a few noises. Wrench whooped and ran off, leaving the warehouse filled only with Mechanical Constructs and various boxes.

Late into the night, Ange felt the Soul Crystal was full and couldn’t take any more Soul Energy. He thought it over, pulled out the tube, got down from the rack, and began to explore the entire warehouse.

Part of the warehouse had been converted into a repair space, with several repair desks and disassembled Constructs on top. In the corner, there was a pile of broken Constructs jumbled into a small mountain.

Ange was in perhaps the best condition of all the Constructs–after all, he wasn’t truly broken, just distracted while thinking about something and mistakenly assumed to be broken. Constructs aren’t capable of thought, so if they stop moving, it must mean they are broken.

In another part of the warehouse, there were boxes of various kinds stacked up. Some of the boxes were sealed. Ange scanned them with his intent and discovered they contained block-shaped food items.

He checked a few other different kinds of boxes and found they contained foodstuffs like rice, flour, and meat. Not only were the meats sealed, but they were also kept in alchemical boxes maintaining very low temperatures.

Ange kind of understood the purpose of these low-temperature boxes–primitive food preservation, nowhere near as good as his Divine Realm.

His War and Peace Divine Area could not only keep food fresh but also sterilize it. It was the best method to process food, keeping it from ever spoiling when stored inside.

The remaining boxes all contained red Crystals harvested from the bushes outside. These boxes were not just sealed, but also under Prohibition, making them impossible to open.

Having completed a round of the warehouse, Ange had checked every nook and cranny but found no clues about the King. Where had the King gone?

Looking left and right, Ange glanced at the pile of damaged Constructs and then at his right knee.

The right knee joint was also significantly worn, but whether it was due to a parts shortage or not meeting the criteria for replacement, Wrench hadn’t swapped it out.

Ange rummaged through the battered Constructs, picked out a good joint, and two slightly worn feet, and fitted them to himself. He was highly skilled at this, like he once was at swapping bones for skeletons in Resting Camp.

After the replacement, he kicked his legs a bit and felt a touch more agile, although it didn’t mean much. Both humans here possessed the Power of Chaos; compared to them, the Construct’s body was too frail, easily handled and manipulated.

If only his true body could come here…

After giving it some thought, Ange dislodged the Black Crystal from the chest of the most severely damaged Construct.

He returned to the rack and fitted the ‘charging’ tube over the Black Crystal, ready to fill it too. The situation was unclear, so storing extra Soul Energy was a precaution.

But looking at this tube, Ange suddenly remembered that he hadn’t checked what was behind it–what was producing a continual stream of Soul Energy? Could there be a message left by the King there?

Following the tube to the wall, he found the material of the wall could block soul penetration, perhaps because Ange’s soul was currently too weak.

It didn’t matter. If his soul couldn’t penetrate, he would physically. Carefully prying through the crevices in the bricks, Ange levered out one and peered through the hole to see something that shook him deeply.

A Mourning Soul was tightly bound in place by an Array, and numerous metal columns continuously stripped Soul Energy from the Mourning Soul, channeling it through the tube to the outside.

So, the Soul Energy came from that Mourning Soul. They were actually using the Mourning Soul as a ‘charging’ device to replenish energy for the Constructs.

It seemed that the Mourning Soul had sensed something, its intent barely sweeping over, and when it saw a Construct, it emitted a puzzled fluctuation. Then, suddenly recalling something, it excitedly sent out a message: “Ange?”

The King? Was this the King?