Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton
Chapter 1538 - 1099: Say the Name, Get a Discount

Chapter 1538: Chapter 1099: Say the Name, Get a Discount

Anthony was a master of psychology, adept at discerning the psychological shifts of intelligent beings. Whether the being in question was human or beast, Undead or divine entity—so long as its psychological changes were reflected externally—he could deduce its inner thoughts through a series of subtle cues.

Back then, Dyson’s seemingly minor movements had been interpreted by Anthony to mean there were at least two doppelgängers involved, a theory which was later confirmed.

Compared to Dyson’s carefully nurtured doubles, the Great Speaker’s psychological fluctuations were like an unguarded fortress, instantly captured by Anthony.

As soon as the Great Speaker heard the news of "White Death Disease," his whole body slumped as if crushed under the weight of truths he had desperately refused to acknowledge, overwhelmed by a devastating blow.

Still, this slouch—the bending of his waist and shoulders—was so slight, one might miss it entirely. If it weren’t for Anthony, others wouldn’t have noticed at all. Negris immediately asked, "White Death Disease? Isn’t it just the Insect Plague? Has the plague spread?"

The silver coin nodded slightly. "It seems to be. It matches Bret’s description quite well."

"Ange! Quickly, we must go back to rescue them!" Negris urged in an agitated tone.

Upon hearing that Ange and the others intended to leave, the Great Speaker straightened up instantly, his slouch vanishing as he declared loudly, "Wait! I haven’t settled things here yet! Treat my people first before you go!"

With time running out, everyone rushed into the Plane swiftly, leaving the Great Speaker trailing behind. Anthony deliberately remained at the rear alongside him, whispering softly, "Great Speaker, do you happen to know who is responsible for breeding these insects?"

The Great Speaker stiffened, his face paralyzed with astonishment as he turned to stare at Anthony.

Anthony said nothing, merely gazing at him with serene assurance.

After a prolonged stare-off, the Great Speaker averted his eyes and asked, "Why would you think I’d know?"

"These insects aren’t something ordinary. Breeding them is no trivial task. What sort of person would possess the capability to cultivate creatures like these?" Anthony probed further.

The Great Speaker opened his mouth to respond but quickly clamped it shut.

Anthony continued as though speaking to himself, "Breeding the insects isn’t easy, but unleashing them into the world definitely serves a purpose. What could that purpose be? Exterminating humanity? Spreading death? Harvesting souls?"

The Great Speaker stared straight ahead, flying half a body-length away as if deliberately avoiding Anthony’s gaze.

Drawing closer, Anthony whispered, "Treating Bret, repairing his injuries—it will come at quite a cost. If we price the repairs at five hundred Soul Crystals per pit, then just the repairs alone will exceed ten thousand Soul Crystals. As for removing the insects infesting his body, what’s the price? Fifty thousand? Twenty thousand? Ten thousand?"

"Let’s say ten thousand then, the absolute lowest. Surely, a Lord of Mourning is worth at least that much Soul Crystals? Anything less would be an insult." Anthony declared with righteous fervor, feigning indignation at the mere suggestion of belittling Bret.

The Great Speaker muttered under his breath, heart aching, "I’d rather you insult him."

"Table Mountain has suffered quite a few from the Insect Plague. The Undead? Fixing them is straightforward enough—swap out their bones and flesh. But an elegant Elf like Lea? A face riddled with pits would be unbearable. Tack on the treatment expenses for cases like hers—let’s price it at a modest one thousand per head..."

As Anthony calculated, he kept raising the numbers higher and higher. Before even landing, the final figure had grown absurdly alarming.

Once they arrived at Table Mountain, Anthony concluded, "Name a single culprit, and I’ll knock off ninety percent of the fee."

The Great Speaker froze mid-step, hesitated for half a second, then muttered a name: "The Celestial Descendant Clan."

...

With an evolved Insect God on hand, clearing out the swarms became not only effortless but immensely profitable. As the Insect God unfolded its membranous arms and flapped them at breakneck speed, all the insects nearby swarmed frenziedly toward it.

These normally imperceptible, minuscule insects had congregated in such immense numbers that they converged into dense clouds of fog, scrambling in desperation to dive into the Insect God’s gaping maw.

The Insect God visibly "swelled" in size.

Once its bloated form reached a certain limit, Ange took out a bottle, approached the Insect God, and tapped its head lightly.

"Awo—?!" The Insect God sent out a message of confusion.

"Awo!" Ange replied firmly.

The Insect God hurriedly shook itself, expelling clouds of substance—neither liquid nor gas—that descended downward.

Ange guided the streams of mist into the bottle until it was filled to the brim with a churning, black material, equal parts gaseous and liquid.

"Is this... Yin? Is this Hemel?" Negris leaned closer, hesitating as he asked.

Even though Negris had encountered Yin before, the sheer concentration of this substance before him now left him uncertain. It was simply too potent to resemble what he’d seen previously.

Besides, Ange had two Insect Gods under his command: Hemel and Mattis. Naturally, the one producing Yin was Hemel.

Ange nodded, then flew to Bret’s side, pouring a drop of Yin over the pits recently patched with the purple-gold bone dust. Astonishingly, the bone powder began merging seamlessly into the skull, an integration process that would usually require weeks of refinement by Soul Fire. With Yin, it completed in mere minutes.

The Great Speaker stared, mouth agape, shocked for the second time: "This... What is this substance? It makes bones grow? No, no, it makes the... um, the Undead’s bones..."

The Great Speaker stumbled incoherently over his words, struggling to describe whether Undead bones should even be considered lifeless or not. Regardless, neither category should logically grow.

"Ha! Strong life force—enough to bring dead matter back to life. It’s nothing extraordinary." Anthony remarked nonchalantly.

Outsiders often confused Insect Ash Liquid with Yin. Dobinki, ahead of the Grain Contest, had been adamant about finding Ange to purchase pure Yin.

For Ange, though, Insect Ash had long been demoted to slow-release fertilizer. Only the smoky mist secreted beneath Hemel’s evolved scales was worthy of the title Yin.

Both Insect Ash Liquid and Yin could resurrect dead matter and enrich soil, but Insect Ash Liquid operated passively—just sprinkle it, and it’s done. Yin, on the other hand, remained active upon contact, continuously enhancing the land until it grew increasingly fertile.

This new form of Yin, richer than Hemel’s previous secretions, was now potent enough to stimulate growth in lifeless matter, pushing its capabilities far beyond the previously conceivable limits.

The Great Speaker cast a suspicious glance at Anthony, scrutinizing him from head to toe. "You gods and your tricks! Can I buy some of this Yin?"

Ange flatly rejected him. Nearly everything else was for sale: seeds, fertilizers, farming tools—yet Ange seemed resolutely unwilling to sell Yin. The Great Speaker, sensing his refusal was firm, had no choice but to let the matter drop.

Leading the Insect God on a sweep around the area, they eradicated every insect in sight. The group then prepared to head toward the Sea of Omniscience and the Violet Underground City. Before leaving, however, Anthony made sure to collect payment.

"The grand total: ninety thousand Soul Crystals. Will you pay in cash or use a Crystal Card?" Anthony asked.

"What!?" the Great Speaker exclaimed in fury. "Ninety thousand? Didn’t you say you’d deduct ninety percent?"

"Indeed. Ninety percent off. The pre-discount total was nine hundred twenty-six point seven nine thousand. Rounding off, it’s ninety thousand." Anthony handed the silver coin to the Great Speaker, who calculated it on the spot.

"I... You... I..." The Great Speaker stammered, utterly at a loss. Gathering such an astronomical sum was impossible—in emergencies, who would keep piles of Soul Crystals stockpiled at home? Soul Crystals, after all, were merely energy; converting them into Soul Energy to carry around was far more practical than hoarding them in their raw form.

Anthony leaned in with a serene smile, whispering, "Why release the insects? Tell me, and I’ll slash ten percent further."

The Great Speaker gritted his teeth and glared at Anthony viciously, as though about to devour him alive.

Anthony remained unruffled, wearing a small, contented smirk. Having known the Great Speaker for so long, he understood well what sort of personality he had. This was someone capable of anything, yet firmly unwilling to stoop to dishonesty—a proud, scrupulous "Old Immortal" with an acute sense of shame.

Seeing that intimidation had no effect on Anthony, the Great Speaker fumbled for words, eventually relenting in a hushed tone: "Do you know Plane Consciousness? Do you know how to create one?"