Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton-Chapter 850 - 475 You Save the Monarch We Want the

Chapter 850: Chapter 475: You Save the Monarch, We Want the Starburst Array_2

Chapter 850: Chapter 475: You Save the Monarch, We Want the Starburst Array_2

Now that Ange could reach inside the Temple of Rest, could he also retrieve an object larger than the size of an ordinary human?

Ange shook his head, “Put it in.”

Negris understood what Ange meant; the only change was that now things could be put inside, but the volume of the transferred items hadn’t changed.

This made it uninteresting, Negris forced a smile, “Well, that’s good. At least I can stuff my books in there when danger strikes.”

Ange clenched his fist tightly, and his entire small arm slowly turned gray.

This change was too bizarre and didn’t fit Ange’s current persona, frightening Negris, who quickly spread his flesh wings to cover Ange.

However, there were only a few people around, and the next batch hadn’t arrived, so there was no need to worry about this change being seen by others.

Once covered by the flesh wings, the surroundings were tightly concealed, Ange curiously glanced and noticed, unaware, Negris had grown a lot, and his wings could now be used as a tent, which would be great for shielding rain in the future.

With his mind made up, Ange focused on his hand.

The arm visibly hardened at a visible rate, turning gray, somewhat resembling the color of an Iron Skin Zombie, but without dehydration or withering.

This condition lasted for quite a while, and the color of the arm slowly reverted to normal, but the metallic luster on the skin told Negris that this arm had become different.

“How can this be? Your power shouldn’t reach the flesh and skin, and you’ve only recaptured a zealot after all, why would it affect your hand? It’s strange, let’s cut open your skin and see,” said Negris, puzzled.

Ange is a skeleton, and the outer layer of flesh only grew after bathing in the Holy Light, fundamentally different, not conflicting, is already quite good. It shouldn’t affect the bones.

Ange peeled back the skin to reveal the underlying skeleton; it was smooth and white, with an ivory-like shine, clearly not the bone of a normal human or Holy Spirit.

Ange squeezed the stretched skin back together, intending to release Holy Light, but the skin healed on its own first.

Watching this peculiar scene, Negris suddenly said, “We’ve always heard Albert saying about Holy Spirit, could it be possible that this body of yours is actually not of the Holy Spirit?”

Ange tilted his head, could it be? If it’s not a Holy Spirit skeleton, then why would the Holy Light revive it?

Negris could see the doubts in Ange’s heart, and responded, “First, it lacks wing joints, second, its bones aren’t as delicate as those of a Little Angel, nor does it shrink with level advancement, third, Locke would not choose a common Holy Spirit Skeleton to inhabit.”

The third point was the most important; he knew Locke’s character too well. Without something special, he would never choose an ordinary Holy Spirit Skeleton.

If forced to choose, he would quickly replace it, or strive to make it ‘special’; that’s the Steadfast Locke, never settling for the ordinary; for him, the Holy Spirit was just too common.

So, could it be that Ange’s body is not ordinary? He had always overlooked this until he saw Ange’s arm exhibit astounding changes, which made him unconsciously think further.

Ange tilted his head, somewhat bewildered, if it isn’t a Holy Spirit’s skeleton, what could it be?

No one knew; at least no answer could be found in the lingering information from Locke.

Just as Ange was about to speak further, he suddenly leaped up, pushing Negris aside.

A ‘human’ had quietly approached, unnoticed until now, and it was unclear whether he was eavesdropping.

Upon being caught, the human cracked a smile, “Quick reflexes, huh? Looks like you fluorescent bugs have found some backing, ready to crawl out of the gutter, eh?”

As he spoke, his mouth split, not figuratively, but literally; his mouth really split apart, opening a gaping maw as a gray-black scaled head emerged and lunged at Ange with a stretched neck.

“Dragon Sorcerer!? Nosarlo!? Uh—” Negris screamed out it was the Dragon Sorcerer Nosarlo from the Council of the Undead.

It had transformed into a human, blending in with the refugees to get close and then abruptly reveal itself to bite the servants of Light.

This tactic never failed. As a Dragon Sorcerer, whether as a dragon or sorcerer, it had a close-range advantage; any magician it approached hardly had time to react.

But before Negris could finish shouting its name, Ange, with his still somewhat grayish arm, swung and punched Nosarlo in the head.

Nosarlo’s massive head was sent flying.

The head reformed, but the body had not yet recovered, leaving Nosarlo in a top-heavy state; Ange’s punch had not only sent its head flying but had also thrown its body into the air.

Thrown fifteen meters away, Nosarlo was stunned. What had happened?

Straining, it raised its head to look towards Ange, only to see a figure leaping towards it, a fist descending from above.

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The newly raised head was heavily slammed back into the ground.

While a sorcerer’s soul is not in its head, the punch still left Nosarlo dazed. The punch to the head carried such force that it vibrated through its entire body and jolted its soul.

Impossible! How could it be?! Was it like its head being hit, but its heart aching? How powerful must a force be to create such an effect?