Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton
Chapter 1537 - 1098: This Disease is Called White Death

Chapter 1537: Chapter 1098: This Disease is Called White Death

In Negris’s imagination, the Insect God would roar as it flew past, causing those invisible insects to tumble down with a clatter, or throw themselves at the Insect God, only to die in its mouth.

But it had overestimated things. The Insect God from the Chaos Plane had no control over the insects on Table Mountain. They weren’t even of the same lineage. The Insect God gave a powerful inhale, clearing the insects from the void, but the ones on Bret’s body proved trickier to deal with.

"A lot of them are hiding in the crevices of his bones; the Insect God can’t even eat them." Negris leaned in to take a closer look, only to be yanked back by Ange.

"Don’t get close, it’s dangerous," Ange said.

It was rare for Ange to stop it from being reckless. With Ange’s growing strength, now even a small effort allowed him to maintain full control of the situation.

Under his protection, it was hard for Negris to encounter any real danger no matter how reckless it got. More often than not, Ange wouldn’t even perceive danger before Negris had already scared itself and retreated in fear.

Now that Ange was issuing a warning of danger, it meant that approaching too closely was beyond even Ange’s ability to keep it safe. Were these insects really that dangerous?

Ange shook his head. "Problematic. The insects... are evolving."

"Not dangerous, but problematic? Evolving insects? Chewing on Bret’s bones to evolve? Mourning Dead Insects?" Negris translated aloud, startled by its own words.

"Hiss..." It wasn’t just Negris; everyone else was shocked as well. If an entire group of insects gained an exoskeleton as tough as that of the Lord of Mourning, how would they possibly destroy them? Just thinking about it made their teeth ache.

"Then... what do we do?" The Great Speaker, hearing this, emitted a denser cloud of mist, terrified at the thought of Mourning Dead Insects clinging to him.

Ange shook his head again. "Insect God, faster."

As he finished speaking, Ange flicked a puff of mist onto the Insect God.

Seeing this mist, the Great Speaker exclaimed, "The Chaos Mist I gave you? You haven’t used it up yet?"

Negris laughed nervously. "Yeah, yeah, we’re very frugal. We couldn’t bear to use it."

"No need to save it. Use it freely to clear out those insects, and I’ll give you a few more crates," the Great Speaker said, patting his chest confidently.

Anthony immediately responded with a smile. "Then we must thank you greatly, Great Speaker, for your generous gift. On behalf of Lord Ange, thank you."

The Great Speaker awkwardly rubbed his nose. He did have a little ulterior motive, but Anthony had seen through it effortlessly.

Chaos Mist was a precious entity, surpassing Divine Power in its potency, a higher form of energy that gods themselves couldn’t acquire on their own. It was an appropriate form of compensation. After all, hadn’t they asked for Chaos Mist as remuneration in the treatment of the Light Disaster last time?

By throwing in Chaos Mist as a preliminary offering, if the opposition later made an unmanageable demand, he could justifiably renege—"You accepted Chaos Mist and still want more compensation? Isn’t that unreasonable?"

See? The Great Speaker was already strategizing about defaulting on his payment for treatment.

Of course, if Anthony’s subsequent request turned out to be something easily achievable, the Chaos Mist would simply become a gift. But now, thanks to Anthony’s single remark, the window for reneging had been firmly shut.

Awkward, the Great Speaker changed the topic. "What did he mean by the Insect God being faster?"

Negris translated, "It means the Insect God’s evolution is progressing faster. As long as its evolution stays ahead of the insects’, it can suppress them."

As they spoke, Ange pulled out a fragment of Subordinate Origin and tossed it to the Insect God.

The Insect God had already grown noticeably larger and was circling Bret. When Ange threw out the fragment, it immediately turned back, grabbed it, and started gnawing on it greedily.

"Lumathes? You’ve been to the Land of the Undying?" The Great Speaker asked in surprise.

Anthony feigned innocence. "Lumathes? What’s that? This fragment? A merchant caravan brought grain to trade, ran out of money, and used this as payment instead. I noticed it had a strong suction force; it’s pretty fascinating. Why do you call it Lumathes?"

The Great Speaker patted his chest. Anthony could see through his intentions immediately, but when Anthony made up a story, the Great Speaker couldn’t tell fact from fiction. "That’s the name of a powerful being. Are you sure you’ve never been to the Land of the Undying?"

"Where’s the Land of the Undying? Is it that place filled with Undead? Never been there, but I know where it is. Merchants travel there frequently for business. Are there lots of these fragments there? If I organize my own caravan, can I go dig them up myself?" Anthony asked slyly.

"Sure, sure, no problem at all. But I’ve heard there are Primal Mourners there, so be careful," the Great Speaker warned.

After chatting a bit longer, Ange suddenly pulled out several Fruits of Life and tossed them to the Insect God, which promptly devoured them with loud crunches.

Once the Insect God had digested those, Ange brought out a piece of Divine Wood, some Saye Meat, Chaos Stones, Deadman’s Fruit—essentially anything edible—to test them all on the Insect God, looking for the most suitable item for its evolution.

Alright, Ange was once again absorbed in experimenting. Yet no one knew what exactly the Insect God needed to evolve; they could only watch as Ange went about it methodically.

After exhausting all the potential fodder, Ange finally pulled out a God Status and tossed it to the Insect God.

"Hey, hey!!" The Great Speaker looked utterly dumbfounded. Such treasures? He hadn’t seen many of them himself, and now Ange was casually feeding one to a bug?

"A God Status, a God Status?! You’re just feeding a bug with it?" The Great Speaker exclaimed. Everyone else looked at him, baffled, making him somewhat embarrassed. Was this something common to them?

Anthony quickly caught on and explained, "Oh, oh, oh, it’s a fallen Death God Status. Its followers have been cruelly exterminated by the Godslayers, and its consciousness has been shattered. It’s essentially useless. Instead of letting it dissipate over time, why not let it help the Insect God’s evolution?"

Casually tossing around Blank God Statues was something Ange was known for, so no one in their group thought much of it.

However, in the Great Speaker’s eyes, these wandering gods, the same level as himself, were throwing items of equal rank to themselves to feed a bug? Wasn’t this akin to a chicken pulling out another chicken’s intestines to make chicken soup to nourish a third chicken? Absolutely horrifying.

"A fallen Death God Status, huh? It does seem like there’s no longer any conscious fluctuations. Just how many gods have the Godslayers annihilated? Truly brutal," the Great Speaker muttered, recalling its lack of conscious energy and accepting Anthony’s explanation.

The Insect God hugged the God Status, gnawing on it. Midway through, it suddenly unfolded its elytra, revealing a pair of membranous wings that began flapping rapidly. A ’sound’ imperceptible to normal humans spread through the air as the wings vibrated.

Ange stepped back.

Something’s happening? Negris noticed and shared Ange’s vision discreetly. Instantly, it saw a stream of ’numbers’ pouring out wildly from Bret’s body, rushing toward the Insect God.

As the Insect God continued gnawing on the God Status, it would occasionally turn and open its mouth to inhale, sucking up all the ’numbers’ until there wasn’t a speck left.

For the Undead, as long as the insects were eradicated, the remaining task was just replacement. Replacing the bones in the limbs and torso was easy enough, but the pits in the skull? Not so simple.

Durken quickly approached. "Lord Bret, how about trying our bone-patching service? We grind your bones into powder, fill the pits, and then fuse it back using Soul Fire. It’ll blend seamlessly with your original bones. What do you say?"

"Huh? It can be fixed? I thought I’d have to replace my skull. How does it work? Let me try it!" Bret asked excitedly. After the insects were cleared, he felt completely at ease.

"Of course. Which type do you want? Dry Bone, White Bone, Gray Bone, Silver, Gold, or Purple Gold? Prices range from thirty, sixty, one hundred twenty, two hundred forty, to one thousand Soul Crystals per pit, from cheapest to most expensive," Durken offered.

"Pff... That expensive? You’re robbing me blind!" Bret was stunned.

Currently, Bret’s skull was riddled with pits. Patching them all would cost tens of thousands of Soul Crystals. Even though he was the Lord of Mourning and could condense his own Soul Crystals, who in their right mind would waste time making their own? In terms of Soul Crystal currency, he was practically broke.

"It’s a much better deal than robbery. How about this? You give me the discarded bone scraps when you replace your bones, and I’ll give you a fifty percent discount," Durken proposed.

Replacing bones required starting at the joints. In some places, where the insects hadn’t yet reached the joints, leftover scraps would remain, likely to be discarded during the replacement process.

Trading those discarded scraps for a fifty-percent discount was an offer Bret accepted without a second thought.

Durken then pulled out a black-crystal-coated steel file and began grinding the bones into powder on the spot, mixing them into a paste to fill the pits in Bret’s skull. "Using your own bone to patch your pits ensures the best compatibility," Durken said as he worked.

Realizing the situation, Bret was furious—using my bones to grind into powder to patch my own pits, and I still have to pay you? This really is better than robbery.

Anthony, rubbing his hands together, turned to the Great Speaker with a smile. "So, Great Speaker, how do you feel about this level of service? Would you be willing to..."

Before he could finish, a silver coin flew over anxiously, whispering, "Both the Sea of Omniscience and the Violet Underground City have suddenly been struck by a disease. Patients first develop white spots on their skin, which then spread uncontrollably until the skin finally cracks apart. They’re calling it White Death."