Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton-Chapter 735 - 422 Kvada! Tricked!_1

Chapter 735: Chapter 422 Kvada! Tricked!_1

Ange instinctively side-stepped, allowing their opponent’s fist to pass under their armpit. Seamlessly, they grasped his wrist, and with the precision earned from thousands of years of training, Ange pressed the Face Purification Technique onto their opponent’s face.

Locke was stunned by this elegant manoeuvre. Just as he prepared to elbow back, he felt a slight push against his face. He lost balance, leaning backwards and unable to muster any strength.

By the time he managed to stabilise himself using his waist strength, he found that the other’s palm was still pressed against his face, a divine radiance overwhelming his entire field of vision.

With reflex, his hands clasped on the opponent’s forearm. He immediately felt a surge of strength. His whole body, like a bundle of straw, was entirely lifted and thrown to the ground.

Err, what happened? Where am I?

It took a while for Locke to regain his senses. He propped his upper body and looked at Ange, stunned.

...

Equally shocked were Negris and Durken. Negris asked in spirit, “Martial arts? Is this martial arts? Kvada, when did you learn such exquisite martial arts?”

Ange tilted his head, questioning, “No, moving straw.”

“What! You’re saying that your refined martial arts is just a technique for moving straw?” Negris was taken aback, but upon reflection, it did seem logical – tying up harvested rice into bundles, then effortlessly throwing it onto the cart behind.

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Ange nodded.

“Impossible! Absolutely impossible! Who are you?! To defeat me, the Godfalling Swordsman, you can’t be nameless! Swiftly reveal your names, why did you ambush me?!” Locke’s reaction was even more intense than being thrown onto the ground. He jumped up, roaring.

Being defeated was one thing, but to hear such dismissive comments – equating their technique to moving straw – wasn’t this a direct insult?

Durken smiled and said, “Alright, alright. We didn’t even hold you accountable for offending us, why not take a look at your face.”

Upon Durken’s reminder, Locke suddenly remembered what had caused their conflict. Could it be the Holy Light?

Instinctively, Locke touched his face, wondering why the Holy Light didn’t hurt. Even though it was pressed onto his face, why didn’t he feel any pain?

The moment his fingers touched his face, he felt an elasticity.

As a witch, Locke did not perceive touch. Yet this sensation of firmness and elasticity even witches could feel.

In shock, Locke extended his consciousness, using it to examine his own face. Before him was a reflection of a smooth, soft, fair skin.

Like being struck by lightning, Locke was completely stunned.

Being a native Undead, Locke didn’t pay much attention to appearances.

But after years interacting with humans, especially those innocent and adorable children who couldn’t hide their emotions, their fear of him had bothered him greatly.

After realizing the power of the Soul Armor, Locke found that while children were initially fearful of him, they became less resistant to interact with him once they got familiar. With time, they would even play with him, and even climbed onto his shoulders.

So, Locke grew accustomed to his Soul Armor. With the passage of time, many young people in the town, who were less than a hundred years old, couldn’t even remember what Locke looked like without the armor.

Gradually influenced by this change, Locke’s aesthetics leaned towards that of the humans. He too favored lively, fresh, soft beings. Now, looking at his own face, he couldn’t help thinking: this woman is really beautiful…

Mind interrupted by Durken, who said: “Did you see it? This isn’t Holy Light, right? Don’t jump to conclusions just because of a white light. If my mentor wasn’t so strong, he could have been hurt by you. We felt very angry about your offense.”

“In… Indeed, it’s not Holy Light. It was my misunderstanding. I’m sorry, I apologize to you.” Locke was both elated and excited, sincerely apologizing.

But Durken wasn’t buying any of it. He said with a meaningful look: “Just an apology would suffice for the offense here? Is there no compensation?”

“Ah!? Yes, yes, yes, compensation.” Locke called over a maid, who quickly brought a pile of local products.

Locke laughed nervously, “These lake snow juices and dried goods are our town’s specialties. It’s a small token of appreciation, and I hope you won’t find it distasteful.”

Durken rolled his eyes, gave up and decided Locke was clueless.

Negris also sensed a problem and couldn’t help but ask, “The materials needed for self-regeneration are very expensive, Mayor Locke. Do you have money?”

“Yes, yes, I do.” Locke took out his wallet, “I have six hundred soul crystals, is that enough?” He asked as he shifted his questioning gaze to the Bronze Book in Ange’s hand.

The moment Locke took out his wallet, Negris knew he was poor. Such a pouch, casually opened with no spatial fluctuation. Even if it were filled to the brim, it would only hold a few hundred Soul Crystals.

But in the city of Goddess of Beauty, a full-body regeneration for a witch starts at three hundred thousand, and with some extras like nail treatment and hair growth, it could go up to five hundred thousand.

The exchange rate between Soul Crystals and Demon Crystals varies, generally between two to three times. Even at a one-to-three exchange rate for Demon Crystal, it would require tens of thousands of Soul Crystals. It’s definitely not something a small pouch can hold.

If he only has a few hundred Soul Crystals, then Mayor Locke is poorer than Ange. Ange could casually grab more than six hundred Soul Crystals.