Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

In the Dwarven Empire, at Iron Stone Fortress, Copper Hammer pushed open a long-forgotten door.

“Not sure if the God of Forging’s construct can still be used.” Copper Hammer said with anticipation.

“Who knows,” the gatekeeper Iron Embryo nonchalantly scratched his bulbous, reddened nose. “It has been untouched for thousands of years and cannot be started without a divine soul. However, the creations of the God of Forging are not so easily damaged. So, has the planar war begun? Do we need to use the God of Forging’s construct?”

The God of Forging’s construct, the strongest creation of the Dwarven deity of smithery, possessed considerable combat power. It shouldn’t be used easily unless there is a planar war and the survival of the Dwarves is at stake.

Like the War God’s chessboard, it too requires equivalent strength to start. Therefore, the God of Forging’s construct hadn’t been activated in thousands of years.

“Indeed, a planar war is underway. The God of Justice and Arbitration of the Church of Light has lost their impartiality, got banished from Heaven, and lost their sanity, slaughtering over half a million devoted followers. They have transformed them into Sorrow Angels, who are now emerging from the swamps.”

“We need to prepare ourselves, assess the situation. If Anthony can slay the God, we will aid him. If he cannot stop the God of Arbitration, we will have to think of a way to protect ourselves.”

With a bewildered expression, Iron Embryo opened his mouth in disbelief, as if he were hearing an absurd epic tale.

Iron Embryo was rather old, at over eight hundred years. In the Dwarven society, he was considered elderly. For the past six hundred years, he guarded the relic of Iron Stone Fortress, spending his days sipping liquor and sleeping, completely detached from the outside world.

“Who is Anthony?” Iron Embryo asked, successfully diverting Copper Hammer’s attention for a moment. Then, changing his expression, he said: “Ah, my stomach hurts. You go look for the construct yourself in the deepest part of the ruins, at the altar. I need to use the restroom.”

Copper Hammer, unsuspecting, waved him off and took his team into the ruins. Before long, furious roars echoed from within the relic:

“Damn it! Where are the gemstones from the driving core? What about the gems in the joints? And the Mithril coupled gem enhancement enchantments in the energy circuit? Who removed these precious materials? Iron Embryo! Iron Embryo! Kvada, this old lush definitely did this!”

The seemingly intact exterior of the God of Forging’s construct belied a disaster within. All the valuable gemstones, Mithril, fine gold, and enchanted materials had vanished, leaving the construct an empty shell.

As expected, Iron Embryo, who had excused himself to use the toilet, was nowhere to be seen. Copper Hammer initiated a city-wide search, eventually hauling him out from a distillery. Upon interrogation, Iron Embryo admitted his guilt.

For the past six hundred years, whenever he ran out of money for drinks, he would filch valuable materials from within the construct.

Since the divine soul was gone and the construct couldn’t be activated, three generations of Dwarf Kings had merely taken a glance without closely inspecting it, so no one realized.

How did a planar war arise unexpectedly? If he had known, he would have drunk more and embraced death instead.

Now that he was in jail with no access to alcohol, Iron Embryo wasn’t bothered by his discovery as much as regretting not dying before the discovery. After all, he was over eight hundred years old and didn’t have much time left to live.

Dragging the now hollow God of Forging’s construct, Copper Hammer arrived at the Goddess of Beauty City: “Lord Durken, no matter what, you must help repair this construct.”

“No problem, the repair costs and material fees would total one million magic crystals. If you want it expedited, that’ll be an additional half a million.”

“What? So expensive? Can you offer a discount? We’ve known each other for so long, give me a break.”

…

Dwarves, elves, giant dragons, and Stellaris mages had to be coordinated – no room for a weak organizer here.

Anthony directly pulled in Brooks, Auburnli, and Aestolia to represent him, then divided the forces into groups according to the language, race, and strength, assigning each to various areas.

Negris stayed beside Anthony, using its vast knowledge to provide all sorts of references for Anthony.

For instance, dragons snored while sleeping, so their station had to be far from the crowd. Dragon dung stunk terribly so it couldn’t be upwind. Dark Elves were meat-eaters as well as robust male enthusiasts; guards had to keep tabs on them to prevent them from getting weak-kneed during battle, and so on.

All kinds of details, customs, and traditions had to be considered carefully.

Ange was joyfully farming, unbothered by these tiresome tasks. The gathering of various races necessitated a large quantity of food, and every race’s recipes were different.

Humans need a lot of starch in their grain, which tastes good when roasted or boiled; Elves prefer to eat raw fruit high in sugar; Giant Dragons like to eat little sheep; Dwarves are fine with anything, as long as there is alcohol.

Besides the small sheep, everything else was Ange’s specialty. If all else fails, he simply used the juice of the Fruit of Life mixed with sweet beet leaves, which he believed Elves would happily eat.

Ignoring everything else, he was satisfied with the opportunity to peacefully plant crops. A large amount of Soul Crystal and Soul Flame he had gathered earlier allowed him to continuously use the Instant Death Halo without worrying about consumption.

Inside the Temple of Rest, there were now two Farm Barriers, covering over 6000 acres of land, fully planted with various crops. This included swamp rice bought from the Grain Convention and specimens of productive grains from many generations.

As expected from the competition in the Grain Convention, these productive grains were much better in terms of growth speed and yield compared to those Ange had collected in the wild.

Of course, these superior plants had their drawbacks, such as being more delicate. But that didn’t matter, as cultivation was about careful nurturing; making the delicate crops grow better and faster.

Tough and inedible crops could only be considered as grass.

Crossbreeding, grafting, reference, selection, then crossbreeding, grafting, reference, selection…

In the beginning, Ange had conducted tens of thousands of trials to breed saltwater rice. While participating in the Grain Convention, he also carried out hundreds of selection trials, now he had so many newly developed, productive grains, he was more than willing to try ten thousand times more.

Eventually, he found a crop with a trunk of about two meters high. It produced clusters of fruits each as big as an orange, with thin skin. Inside the ripe fruit was all powder upon being rubbed.

Ange looked at the name on the specimen– Bread Fruit Tree.

The yield of an acre of grain was already high at a thousand pounds, but the yield of an acre of fruit trees easily exceeded four to five thousand pounds, even up to twenty to thirty thousand pounds, completely on a different scale.

Spring Breeze Druid once came up with the idea of woody food crops in his notebook. If grains could grow on trees like fruits, the yield could be several times higher than that of ordinary plants.

Clearly, not just the Spring Breeze Druid thought this, someone had already put it into action.

It was a crop from the previous Grain Convention. Its yield was astonishingly low, just over a hundred pounds per acre, but as it was an unprecedented woody grain crop, the Grain Convention still included it in the specimen collection.

After several rounds of cultivation and selection, Ange obtained a robust plant through cutting propagation, then designed to graft the Bread Fruit Tree onto the God flowers, onto the World Tree, and even onto the War Trees.

Suddenly, a red light streaked across the sky and bent downwards, plunging towards the farmland on the ground.

At the forefront of the red light was an angel ugly as sin, despite its pristine white wings – the Sorrow Angel.

The appearance of a Sorrow Angel immediately attracted the attention of many. A bunch of people moved forwards to confront it, including Truth Mages, Giant Dragons, Giant Dragon Hunters, Fallen Angels…

The lineup was too luxurious, and the Sorrow Angel appeared intimidated. It made a sharp turn and headed for the high sky, fleeing in panic.

Fearing a potential diversion tactic, only Brooks chased after it. The rest scattered to scout the area and soon reported back: “There’s only one Sorrow Angel, and no other movements.”

Not much later, Brooks returned too. Landing in human form, he held a handful of black mud and said with a sullen face:

“I was on its tail to see where it went, but it dived into an oasis. All the crops in the oasis were burnt to ashes by this Sorrow Angel. When I tried to stop it, it couldn’t defeat me and exploded, turning the entire oasis into this.”

Brooks spread out the black mud in his hand.

Anthony’s face turned pale, he instantly took out his communicator. After a moment on the communicator, he said with a grim expression, “These things have appeared around the world, burning fields, destroying crops, polluting the earth, they want to starve everyone to death through this Doomsday Judgement. It seems that the God of Arbitration never intended to face us in a straight fight.”

“Why? What’s the benefit for him? If everyone starves to death, won’t it mean starving all his followers too?” Negris asked, puzzled.

“There must be a follow-up plan. They must have a follow-up plan, but we…” Anthony trailed off, as next to him, Ange was already aflame with anger, his body entirely covered in fire.

“Burning my fields?”

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