Chapter 50

Words : 1040 Updated : Sep 27th, 2025

Chapter 50 of "Wizard Starts Farming With Mini Skeletons" opens presenting key developments: Chapter 50: Chapter 50 Clayton simply scoffed at everything unfolding around him. He couldn’t care less... Read on!

Chapter 50: Chapter 50 Clayton simply scoffed at everything unfolding around him. He couldn’t care less about the mockery. Without saying much, he quickly pulled out a few scrolls from his satchel. "Alright, everyone," he said casually. "It’s true—I don’t have anything valuable, unlike what some people claim. So, shamelessly, I’ll just show you a few worn-out scrolls I made myself. Please don’t be too disgusted." He then displayed several magic scrolls: a Pollution Scroll, a Water Bullet Scroll, and a Rainfall Scroll. He deliberately kept the Purification Scroll to himself. At first, no one paid much attention. After all, as Hope had pointed out—what could a lowly farmer like Clayton possibly have? But when a few people took a closer look at the carvings on the scrolls, curiosity began to stir. Lately, Clayton had become increasingly skilled at crafting lower-tier, one-star magic scrolls. His work even rivaled that of professional scroll-makers. Before long, a few participants began purchasing his scrolls. Others offered useful trinkets in exchange. Hope, watching Clayton effortlessly draw attention once again, could only grit his teeth. "Damn it, this guy’s as slippery as ever," he muttered. Meanwhile, Arowmfa and a few others eyed Clayton with growing curiosity. He just kept surprising them. Once the transactions were done, Clayton returned to his seat. The atmosphere around him had noticeably shifted—people were now more friendly and open. And with good reason: he’d shown he had something of value. Clayton accepted the change with calm confidence. The item exchange continued. Clayton watched quietly, still unimpressed by the offerings so far. Until a thin man with a mischievous glint in his eyes stepped forward. "Hey there! Name’s Miguel, but you can call me Monkey Bro! I’m an external student at the Academy of Water and Fire Magic. I host trade meets like this all the time. You can sell anything—plants, magic tools, weird stuff, whatever! Hit me up if you’re interested!" A few people perked up, but others who knew him rolled their eyes and jeered: "Just admit you’re a scalper!" "More like a junk dealer!" "Yeah, yeah, it’s Monkey the Scavenger!" Miguel didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He nodded proudly. "Call me whatever you want—as long as there’s money involved!" he replied with a beaming smile. Normally, only other academy students dared mess with Miguel. The rest stayed quiet. Some began to frown at his greasy smile, urging him to hurry it up. "Alright, alright, stop wasting our time. Show your stuff already!" Miguel nodded and began presenting his items. Unfortunately, everything looked random and worthless—’scavenger’ was a fair nickname. Most people quickly lost interest, Clayton included. But Miguel kept going, energetically introducing each piece. Still, no one bit. Finally, he began packing up, clearly disappointed. Then Clayton’s voice rang out. "Wait, Brother Miguel. I’m interested in one of your items." Miguel’s eyes lit up—especially after seeing it was Clayton. "Really? Which one?" Clayton pointed to a small, unassuming stone statue. Miguel picked it up and eagerly handed it over. Clayton examined it closely. Others nearby grew curious—maybe the statue had some hidden value? Someone asked, "Mister, does that statue have some kind of special quality?" Clayton blinked. "Uh..." There was something intriguing about it, but how could he explain it came from a gut feeling triggered by his Observation Entry skill? Unfortunately, his Farmer’s Intuition didn’t activate—it wasn’t related to farming. The insight he gained was minimal at best. As he hesitated, another mocking voice cut through the air. "No way that thing’s special! It’s just junk. Of course the junk farmer and the junk scavenger would find each other!" Miguel shot a glare. "Hope, want me to deck you?" "Go ahead and try," Hope said smugly. "Oh, I will!" Miguel retorted, fists raised. Clayton quickly stepped in. He wasn’t interested in a petty brawl. "Brother Miguel, how much for the statue? I’d like to buy it." Miguel grinned wide. "Brother Clayton! Take it as a gift. I’d love to build a good friendship with you." Hope cackled. "See? Lowborns buttering each other up!" Balda and Isadora exchanged subtle eye-rolls. They didn’t want to get involved with academy students. Clayton ignored the insult and spoke firmly to Miguel. "Alright, Monkey Bro. I’d be glad to call you a friend. But this is still a transaction. Name your price—I’ll pay it." Miguel shook his head. "No need! I mean it—it’s yours." "I can’t accept that. You’re a seller, right? No one sells for free." Hope snickered again. "You’re fighting over junk. I could find better stuff in the trash." Clayton and Miguel kept going back and forth until one of the event organizers finally intervened. "Alright, you two—wrap it up. Others are still waiting their turn." Eventually, Clayton traded a few scrolls for the statue. The exchange continued. A few odd items piqued Clayton’s curiosity, but none tempted him enough to trade. Once the meet concluded, people began saying their goodbyes and filtering out. Clayton didn’t leave right away. He wandered a bit to explore, but after finding nothing of interest, he decided to head home. As he walked down a shaded path, the bushes ahead rustled. Moments later, several small skeletons appeared—familiar ones. Clayton smiled and gestured for them to follow him home. But far off in the distance, Hope watched him leave with a dark glare. A wicked smile crept onto his face. "Hehehe... Let’s see if you’re still smiling after this, Clayton." He darted off in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Clayton strolled leisurely with his skeletons in tow. But from past experiences, he remained alert around quiet corners. He had expected a peaceful trip home—but soon, he realized he was being followed. Whether the stalker was careless or simply didn’t care about being seen, their movements were obvious. Clayton couldn’t pretend not to notice. It seemed someone had mistaken him for an easy target. Instead of waiting to be ambushed, he decided to strike first. He turned into a secluded alley and abruptly spun around. At once, he and his skeletons raised their hands in sync—fingers pointed like guns—aimed straight at the pursuer. But when Clayton saw who it was, his expression changed. "You... Why is it you?" he asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

Chapter 50

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