Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton
Chapter 1601 - 1162: Not Buying If There’s No Money Paid

Chapter 1601: Chapter 1162: Not Buying If There’s No Money Paid

From the moment Emre shouted "Retreat from the battlefield," the Star Progeny Master knew it was time to leave. The loss felt somewhat unclear, but there was no doubt the other party had "convinced" Emre—though how they had done so remained a mystery.

"Gemez Fortress, such a nuisance," the Star Progeny Master muttered, still convinced that Ange and his group had come from Gemez Fortress, and therefore marking it as the source of his grudge.

He extended his hand toward Heisuo, and the Black Cord immediately shed all the Fierce Spirits, slithering toward the Star Progeny Master like a "snake."

Yet, before it could reach, a figure burst out from the airship’s cabin, grabbed the Black Cord, and fiercely shook it. The Black Cord, coiled like a whip, recoiled violently before being flung with brutal force.

The Black Cord’s front tip exploded with a "spatial" burst—a space in the Void, absent of air, shattered by the whip’s force. The tip then sliced through the ruptured space, aiming straight at the Star Progeny Master.

It was somewhat reminiscent of Feiti’s Flash move, which compressed dozens of meters of space into mere meters in front, allowing him to step across in a single move.

The Black Cord took it further—obliterating the space entirely, reappearing directly on the other side.

Unfortunately, only the very front part of the Black Cord shattered the space. The remaining segment, extending back to the Blacksoe Elf’s grasp, moved at ordinary speed, becoming a burden. Dragged forward by the accelerating front, it also slowed down the lead section.

By the time it reached the Star Progeny Master, the Black Cord had lost its spatial-ripping sharpness. He swatted it away and, coldly observing the elf, extended a single finger.

The Blacksoe Elf instantly felt a suffocating tightness envelop her—a powerful, deathly sensation that paralyzed her completely.

Inside the airship cabin, Green Hair and the Red-headed Wizard scrambled to rush out, hoping to shield the Blacksoe Elf. But they seemed a step too late, as the Star Progeny Master’s fingertip unleashed a streak of red light.

Zzzhh! A thicker beam of white light shot forth, swallowing the Star Progeny Master’s finger-sized red ray—Holy Light Flash.

As the radiant pillar flashed by, the Little Angel flapped her Light Wings furiously, her entire form streaking toward the Star Progeny Master like a beam of light, all the while shouting, "Roar!"

Negris translated aloud: "Don’t run? Looks like this thing really intends to flee. Why is it that once he retracts the Black Cord, those Fierce Spirits stop moving? The ones only halfway emerged even retreat back. All this is soul energy."

"Perhaps the Black Cord controls those Fierce Spirits. Forget the spirits; the Little Angel absolutely must take that Black Cord. Later, I’ll refine you some crystal-coated big wings," Durken said while shouting toward the Little Angel.

Without the Black Cord, the Star Progeny Master caused the Fierce Spirits to lose direction, ceasing their attacks on the Little Angel. Instead, they instinctively avoided her gleaming white-light presence—a beacon of unease.

This was the natural instinct of Fierce Spirits. Even Mourning Level spirits were mindless Spiritual Bodies, instinctively fearing Holy Light—bullying the weak and fearing the strong was their nature. Against ordinary enemies, they appeared fierce; against mightier foes, they cowered.

Thus, the Black Cord, capable of controlling Fierce Spirits, immediately drew Durken’s intense interest.

Alas, the Celestial Descendant Clan, when determined to flee, proved nearly impossible to stop—unless, like Ange’s encounter with North Corona, one seized the moment to knock them into a space devoid of mental perception; for example, the World-Ending Magic Formation under Kram’s seal, or a space wrapped in mummy cloth?

The Star Progeny Master’s eyes suddenly dimmed, losing their luster.

The Little Angel grew anxious—so desperate that she hurled the Great Angel’s Staff like an axe, spinning it toward the Star Progeny Master. With a loud "clang," it struck his head.

The Star God’s Body proved resilient. The Great Angel’s Staff produced a cascade of energy sparks before slicing into the abdomen, but it was already too late.

The Star God’s Body didn’t even raise a hand to block, allowing the staff to nearly split him in two. Moments later, his entire form dissolved into starlight, scattering across the Void.

Before the starlight could fully dissipate, a hand emerged abruptly from the scattering points. The Little Ghost opened its Big Mouth and fiercely chomped down.

"Roar!" The Little Angel protested indignantly.

The Little Ghost froze, cheeks puffed, before glancing at the Little Angel and playfully sticking out its tongue.

The Little Angel waved dismissively, "Roar."

"Ah—" It turned out the Little Angel wasn’t roaring at the ghost. Breathing a sigh of relief, the Little Ghost retreated into Ange’s hand.

Recalling the Great Angel’s Staff, the Little Angel turned her attention to the remaining Fierce Spirits. Though frustrated by the main enemy’s escape, the battle wasn’t over yet.

The rest watched as the Little Angel rampaged, slaughtering nearly a hundred Fierce Spirits, which then transformed into over two hundred Four-Winged Angels.

A Fierce Spirit wasn’t limited to transforming into a single Four-Winged Angel; with optimized energy usage, one spirit could produce about two angels.

Unfortunately, due to rank limitations, she could only transform Four-Winged Angels. Six-Winged Angels were out of reach. As a combat weapon, Holy Spirits strictly adhered to hierarchical rules.

Numbers were still the most straightforward metric. As the number of Four-Winged Angels grew, the Blacksoe Elf and her two companions obediently retreated into the airship and stayed put.

After a long pause, Anthony finally boarded the ship with Negris and Durken. Before boarding, he waved toward Emre in the distance, raising a single finger.

Emre hesitated briefly before giving some instructions, then flying solo toward them.

Everyone gathered on the deck, exchanging glances for a moment before Anthony addressed the Blacksoe Elf: "Sell us your Black Cord. What do you want in exchange?"

The Blacksoe Elf instinctively tightened her grip on the cord and positioned it defensively: "The Black Cord is not for sale. I want nothing."

Anthony nodded affirmatively: "All right."

Then, without warning, he stepped forward, reached out, pulled the cord close, and thrust his shoulder upward. The movement lifted the Blacksoe Elf off the ground, followed by three quick strikes; two punches blocked her elbow and knee, and the third hit her abdomen, sending her flying.

Emre, Green Hair, and the Red-headed Wizard all instinctively recoiled, stunned by the sight. Who could imagine a dignified, palace-attire-wearing, refined middle-aged man rolling up his sleeves and barehandedly knocking a god-level mercenary into the air?

If he had used some Magic God Technique, no one would’ve been so shocked. After all, Anthony was clearly from the Magic System. But how could his martial technique be so formidable?

Emre suddenly recalled something and grew even more astonished: "You’re with the Heisuo Mercenary Group. Didn’t you once capture a Prime Mourning Skeleton? How can you be this... this..."

Equally stunned was the Blacksoe Elf. She twisted around to stabilize herself mid-flight, touching her abdomen where Anthony had struck—but felt no pain. This feat was harder than simply piercing her stomach. The level of control over his strength was extraordinary.

Not only had Anthony controlled his own strength, but he also anticipated the Blacksoe Elf’s force, precisely adjusting upon contact to ensure her propulsion without injury. This man was undoubtedly a martial technique master.

Holding the seized Black Cord, Anthony smiled: "Well then, if I don’t pay, this doesn’t count as a purchase."

The Blacksoe Elf’s expression shifted, eventually suppressing her urge to retaliate, saying, "Taking it won’t help you. This is a Soul Weapon—"

She wanted to say it was a Soul Weapon that Anthony, not being an Undead, couldn’t wield. Yet, before finishing, she saw black smoke curling from Anthony’s hand, gradually forming an arm-worn Soul Armor.