Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

Chapter 227: Chapter 159 – What crime should be charged?_2

Translator: 549690339

The merchant standing on the grain cart naturally saw it too. Seeing Rogge beckoning him, he immediately wore a pained expression, scared but not daring to refuse. He climbed down from the cart and jogged over, starting to explain from afar:

“My Lord, forgive me, I didn’t willingly raise the prices, it’s out of necessity. I run a small business, and I’m having difficulties with cash flow. If I don’t go to the market, I might run out of funds to restock next time, please forgive me.” The merchant apologized profusely.

“Don’t be nervous, I called you only to ask about the situation, not to reprimand you,” Negris quickly reassured him.

“I mainly wanted to know, with the bombing of the Silver Knights’ camp, the food supply will definitely tighten in the coming period. Why didn’t you hold on to the grains, wait a few days until the prices rise even higher and then sell them?”

Negris’s inquiry surprised the merchant, who first carefully glanced at Rogge.

Rogge’s eyes emitted a dangerous red glow, sternly saying, “Answer honestly, this is the wisest and most knowledgeable Bronze Dragon Lord, he can easily see through your lies.”

Negris smiled slightly, secretly thriving on this compliment: See, someone still remembers the most knowledgeable Bronze Dragon.

As the Dark Knight Emperor, Rogge was considered very extraordinary in the eyes of ordinary people. Since Rogge claimed him to be the wisest dragon, the merchant did not dare to deceive, wearing a pained expression he said, “I had the same thought….”

Rogge clenched his fist, almost couldn’t keep himself from drawing his sword.

“However, when I got over here, it turned out others had the same idea, today there wasn’t a single grain merchant on the market, so I hurriedly brought my grain cart out. Many households don’t have surplus grain, if I didn’t sell today, in a few days there might be ‘no’ customers left. My Lord, when the old ancestors were still around, things were better. Now since you have taken all the old ones for treatment, some people have completely ignored the rules.” Towards the end of his speech, the merchant deftly managed to smear his competitors.

By old ancestors he meant the Undead, since many witches were the ancestors of these living beings.

In the old Dark City, order was maintained by the witches. Now that almost all the Undead have been taken away, Dark City is practically in a state of disorganization, operating on its own inertia, and gradually more and more rules are being broken.

The reason it hasn’t descended into chaos yet is that Rogge and other Undead have gone for treatment, not died. Everyone expects they will return, so people with intentions are somewhat restrained.

In anger, Rogge drew his sword out, “I’ll go and chop those two merchants.”

Negris grumpily held him back, “Is this how you manage a city? Always chopping people up? Feilin is much better at it than you.”

“Feilin? Lisa’s husband?” Rogge asked with reverence.

Rogge had realized during this time what kind of person Lisa was. The man who was able to marry such a woman and stay married for over a thousand years without being purified, Feilin’s abilities were undoubtedly impeccable.

“Feilin faced a much worse situation than you, at least in Dark City there is still a continuous inflow of food. Witch City is far worse than here, he thought about unleashing the Undead Calamity, letting everyone die together,” Negris sighed.

“All problems are in fact problems of food supply. If this problem is solved, with such a large territory as Dark City, life could actually be quite comfortable. Alright then, after talking so much, do you know who solved Witch City’s final food problem?” Negris asked with a subtle smile.

Ange reached his hand into the Resting Palace, constantly nodding. He had no interest in what Negris was saying and didn’t understand it either, the only thing he understood was ‘the problem of food’, which he was most adept at solving.

Someone poked him, Ange looked down to see the Little Angel poking his arm. When he looked her way, she hurriedly pointed at a distance and let out a ‘squawk’.

The Little Angel pointed towards a skinny boy around seven or eight years old, who held a rolled-up object in his arms. He looked over with wide-eyed, timid, yet hopeful eyes.

Ange cocked his head in confusion.

The Little Angel ‘squawked’ again, then made an eating gesture, her cheeks bulging while looking at Ange.

Ange understood, and flipped out a piece of candy.

The Little Angel took the candy, running over to give it to the child, then snatched the item the boy was holding.

The boy initially lit up at the sight of the candy, but when the Little Angel took his item, he got anxious. Holding onto the candy, he lunged back and held onto his item, refusing to let go.

“Squawk!” the Little Angel hollered.

“Ah! Ahh-yah! Yiyah!” the child shouted back defiantly, but no one knew what he was saying.

“Roar!” Little Angel clenched her fists, aiming at the child’s eyes, but hesitated for a moment, not making a move to hit.

If it was just after Little Angel was born, she might have ignored the consequences, but after ‘living’ for so long, she knew very well that the creature before her couldn’t withstand her punch, and even too much struggle could hurt the other party.

After some hesitation, she gave up and returned in frustration to Ange: “Roar~”

Ange rubbed her head and walked towards the child, bringing out a bag of grain.

The child tentatively poked at the bag of grain, hesitated for a moment, looking a bit dazed, but then shook his head, even the beet he originally grabbed was carefully placed on the bag.

Ange pulled out another bag of grain.

The child hesitated again and immediately, another bag of grain appeared at his feet.

The boy no longer hesitated, thrusting the roll of something in his arms at Little Angel, stuffing the beet into his own bosom, and then painstakingly began to drag one of the grain bags away, leaving the remaining two behind.

For a seven or eight-year-old severely malnourished child, carrying a bag of grain weighing twenty catties was difficult. He could only drag it, walking in great haste.

Ange cocked his head and looked at the two remaining grain bags on the floor, scratching his head: No longer needed?

Negris was bragging to Ange. When he turned his head and saw that Ange was gone, he flew over just to witness this scene which made him sigh involuntarily: “Take the grain and follow him, otherwise you’ll kill him.”

Kill him? Why?

Ange was somewhat confused, but he soon knew why. He followed the child not far and caught up with him. He heard a harsh voice echoing from the cave ahead:

“You dumb creature, what has the adult given you? Wow! Grain, pure top-quality grain? So much grain, are you planning to eat it all by yourself? Don’t you know to honor your brother?”

Then a dull thud was heard, the child’s thin body was kicked out of the cave, he rolled towards Ange and others, vomiting blood.

Now Ange understood why that could kill him.

“The area is short of food. You give a bag of grain to a child in public, it would be strange if others do not try to grab it from him,” Negris explained.

The child was vomiting blood, and he looked at Ange and Little Angel with complex emotions, eventually falling begrudgingly on the other two bags of grains that Ange was holding, his breath gradually weakening.

Ange squatted down and invoked the Face Purification Technique into his body, again and again, each time causing the boy’s body to convulse violently, his mouth exuding dark red blood. Suddenly sitting up, he stared in disbelief.

“Heh, heh, I..,” he croaked as if he hadn’t spoken in a lifetime. When he made the sound ‘I’, he froze.

“I can speak again.” Speaking a full sentence was difficult, and the child’s tears flowed unstoppable.

“You couldn’t speak before? He called you a mute? Were you mute since childhood?” Negris asked.

“Five five years old,” the child replied with difficulty. Although speaking was hard, his expression was very excited, as he tried his best to speak.

“You stopped talking at five? Got injured? How old are you now?” Negris asked, guessing. He couldn’t help but thank Ange for forcing him to be conversational. Without Ange’s influence on his communication style, he probably wouldn’t be able to talk to the child now.

The boy nodded and said, “Ten”

Ten years old? That doesn’t seem appropriate. He looked to be seven or eight. Could it be due to malnutrition stunting his development?

Rogge had already grabbed the man who stole the food and was dragging him over. He was a physically strong young man in his twenties who was being lifted by Rogge. His legs were so weak that he could hardly stand, a stark contrast to his earlier brutality when he was kicking the child.

“Never mind. Let’s deal with this first. Rogge, what’s the penalty for robbing and causing serious injuries or death?” asked Negris.

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