Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

Chapter 748: 430
 

“It might not have been the House of the Deceased, perhaps Your Majesty constructed some of your stuff and restored your inscriptions. Then, someone thought these inscriptions were mystical and could be seen on many things, and hence stole and used them,” explained Negris.

This was the most logical conjecture.

Durken’s gaze flickered: “Across another world, and I still run into a clan using my imprint as their emblem, it must be the arrangement of the god of destiny. I’ll go look for them.”

Negris retorted with a scoff, “Perhaps they are not the ones using the emblem but the ones who have wiped out the clan of the emblem and usurped it?”

In Lightning’s absence, it became apparent to everyone that the second-most sarcastic person was the Bronze Dragon.

Durken drew out his cloak and wore it. Then, he wrapped it around himself and disappeared. Subsequently, an invisible giant foot kicked Negris and sent him tumbling into a nearby flower pot.

It wasn’t long before the refugee group, feeling apprehensive and excited, returned with Durken.

“What happened? How come they have returned with you so easily? How did you gain their trust?” Negris curiously inquired in a low voice.

These individuals were in the midst of fleeing, their caution heightened to its peak. They were only thankful from the opposite bank of the river, simply nodding their heads without any intention to rest in the town.

After Durken caught up with them, he was easily able to win their trust? Weren’t they afraid that Durken would harbor ill intent and capture them for rewards?

“This Doralite Clan consists entirely of Alchemists. I merely performed a few alchemy techniques and they identified them,” Durken murmured in response.

True to his word, upon arrival, the Doralite Clan treated Durken with utmost respect, “Lord Durken, we are grateful for your acceptance. It is our honor to serve by your side and learn from you.”

The leader of the Doralite Clan was the man who had paid their respects and left the gift. His name was Leite. Their group was made up of seven people, two men and five women. Aside from Leite and a young boy, the rest were adult females ranging from eighteen to thirty years old.

Negris studied them closely, finding them peculiar.

“They seem a bit peculiar.” Negris questioned with a puzzled look.

Durken nodded, having discovered this long ago. He turned to Leite and said, “Explain to Lord Nage your unique circumstances.”

Leite and the women revealed troubled expressions. They instinctively resisted, hesitated, and glanced at each other before reluctantly undressing.

Once they removed their clothing, Negris instantly noticed the peculiarity. Among the seven individuals, each one had a missing limb, replaced with mechanical structures.

This immediately drew the attention of all present. Everyone gathered to look closer, Little Angel, out of curiosity, poked a woman’s metallic arm.

Roxy, astonished, said: “I know who you are now, the Doralite Clan, the Half-Demon Clan.”

Leite reached to remove his hat as a courteous gesture but remembered that it was already taken off. The hand he attempted to use was a metal arm, harshly encased with rivets.

Some of the rivets had fallen off, leaving a crack in the shell. From this, the interior structure, gears and the like, were visible.

To prevent debris from falling inside, it was wrapped with gauze. Yet, some fine sand seeped through, creating sticky lumps mixed with lubricating grease.

Leite and the others appeared dispirited as they pulled their clothes back on. An awkward smile appeared on their faces. “Are there any Half-Demons? We are just some pathetic disabled people.”

Through his explanation, everyone understood what made Doralite Clan remarkable.

Despite being renown as a clan, we have no blood ties. We are all disabled and have converged due to physical defects.”

“Our first Clan Leader was a powerful Alchemist who knew how to create mechanical limbs. If any disabled person was willing to learn from him, he would teach patiently.”

“After his death, the disabled Alchemists, who had learned from him, voluntarily banded together under the Doralite Clan. In truth, we resembled a mutual aid association, but calling ourselves a clan gave us disabled orphans a sense of belonging.”

“Every person in our clan was saved from various parts of the world by our elders. Some had congenital defects while others suffered from postnatal injuries.”

Leite’s stomach rumbled as he explained, having not eaten after their long escape.

Ange took out some Elf Beans and gave one to each of them.

Leite, out of shock, assumed it was a special alchemy product, and after consuming it, continued to speak:

“But ordinary people do not understand us disabled folks. They instinctively reject and resist us when they see our missing limbs. They defame us as Half-Demons, alleging that we gain mobility from drinking blood and consuming the organs of living people.”

“The Undead used to maintain order, but since Star Burst, the world has plunged into chaos. The people chasing us belong to the Giant Beast Company’s Slave-catching Team. They aim to enslave us.”

“We have lost more than thirty people who initially escaped with us. Now, only us seven remain.”

While saying this, Leite felt his spirit sinking. Although everyone listened attentively, their faces didn’t show any sympathy or pity. It seemed like their suffering was nothing significant in their eyes.