Chapter 8

Words : 1176 Updated : Sep 23rd, 2025

Chapter 8 of "Wizard Starts Farming With Mini Skeletons" begins revealing surprises: Chapter 8 - 8 Clayton could only sneer inwardly as he watched the scene unfold. These... Read on to find out!

Chapter 8 - 8 Clayton could only sneer inwardly as he watched the scene unfold. These people were shameless beyond belief. Seeing that he remained silent, the group of farmers grew more aggressive, some even attempting to drag him away with them. But Clayton stayed calm and began to speak. "Ahem, my dear brothers and uncles, it's not that I don't want to help," Clayton began with a dignified tone. "But the effort and energy I've poured into farming is no small thing." "You all know my father just passed away. I have very little magic crystal left. On top of that, the deadlines for the wheat tax and housing tax are fast approaching..." he continued, his voice soft, full of sorrow. "Let alone spending my magic energy—just staying alive is a struggle!" he added, sounding even more pitiful. Hearing this, the group began to quiet down. A sense of guilt crept in. After all, they understood how hard life could be in the City of Magic. Don't be fooled by their ragged, dirt-streaked appearance—they were once the chosen few, one in a million. In the ordinary world, they could have lived as nobles or part of the wealthy elite. But they had chosen to live on the Magic Continent, hoping to be blessed by its wonders. That choice had led them to this life. As silence fell, Equus grew displeased with the shift in mood. "So what are you really saying, Clayton? Isn't it just that you don't want to help? Why put on this whole performance?" he sneered, trying to turn the crowd back against him. The others snapped out of their sympathy and began pressing Clayton again—though less aggressively than before. But Clayton didn't falter. If anything, he looked more energized. He adjusted his expression to appear both sorrowful and noble. "Who said I wouldn't help?" The crowd perked up at his words. "It's just... it wouldn't be right to work for nothing. At the very least, I should get a small reward for my sweat and labor." The crowd fell silent. Equus didn't miss a beat. "Hah! You mean you want to be paid like a farmhand? Clayton, keep dreaming!" "So what if I do? I'm not forcing anyone. I'm simply offering a helping hand—to my dear brothers and uncles," Clayton replied coolly. "Keep dreaming! Who'd want help from you anyway? You haven't even passed the apprentice mage stage! You can barely fire off five magic bullets before your mana's drained. You're not worth the price!" The crowd nodded in agreement. They, too, felt his help wouldn't be worth paying for. "True, I'm not worth much on my own. But I still have my little skeletons. They're equal to hiring seven fake mages," Clayton said with confidence. The crowd looked surprised. Maybe... this could actually work. Equus froze. He realized too late that Clayton was using this moment to advertise himself. Inwardly, he cursed. If they weren't on bad terms, he might've hired Clayton himself. Now all Equus could do was hope no one would bite. If Clayton managed to earn enough money to pay his taxes, he might avoid eviction. The thought made Equus furious. It felt like he had just handed Clayton a stage to shine. Unfortunately for him, things didn't go his way. A skinny young man raised his hand. "Clayton, are you really serious about being a farmhand?" "Rest assured, Brother Grass. I'm more than qualified." Still, Grass looked hesitant. So Clayton added quickly: "How about this—I'll work first, and you only pay if you're satisfied. If not, don't pay at all. Fair enough?" "You sure?" Grass asked, skeptical. "With this many witnesses, how could I dare break my word?" Grass nodded. "Alright then. I'll pay only if I'm satisfied." Clayton paused, puzzled. Why did that sound oddly suggestive? Ah well—what matters is, I finally have a way to make money! Grass led him to his field, roughly three hectares wide. The crops looked withered from the drought, but the soil was fertile. Grass was known as the area's most experienced wheat farmer. He let Clayton begin working immediately. Clayton was thrilled—he'd been unsure how to offer his services before, but Equus had unknowingly handed him the perfect opportunity. Clayton ordered his little skeletons to spread out and begin. They moved in perfect synchronization. After a few days, both he and the skeletons had grown accustomed to the tasks. Though their movements were a bit stiff, the results spoke for themselves. Grass was pleased. When he missed something, Clayton caught it. It proved Clayton wasn't slacking off. Other farmers who watched began to regret not hiring him first. Meanwhile, Equus could only grit his teeth in frustration. Clayton continued working diligently, hoping to earn more trust—and more clients. By the end of the job, Grass was satisfied and paid him 20 grains of magic sand. Clayton was overjoyed. But the neighbors grew jealous. They suspected that Clayton's father must have been a remarkable farmer to pass down such talent. Clayton, sensing the growing hostility, began to feel pressured. He knew the danger of standing out. Being targeted by one person was manageable—but becoming a public enemy was a different story. Thankfully, just then, one of his little skeletons collapsed with a dramatic crack, dropping everything it had been carrying. Crack! All eyes turned to the sound. "Oh no! Sorry, Brother Grass. The skeletons I summon are fragile—they break easily if bumped. That's why I use them for farming, not fighting. Sorry for the mess," Clayton said quickly as he gathered the fallen tools. Grass chuckled as he helped. "Hah, don't worry about it, Clayton. It's impressive enough that your skeletons can farm. If only I had Light and Dark attributes too, I'd summon a Holy Skeleton Knight myself!" The envy in the others' eyes began to fade. Even if some still felt jealous, it wasn't as intense. Their expressions seemed to say: What's so great about skeletons that can only farm? In a world of magic and swords, power is what truly matters. Clayton gave a small smile. It seemed his little trick had worked. Their jealousy had been disarmed. With the job done, Clayton bid them farewell and headed home. Some of the once-cynical farmers were beginning to warm up to him. Clayton wasn't surprised—he'd seen how quickly people could change. But he couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness at how cold human hearts could be. Meanwhile, Equus, who had been staring at Grass's field the entire time, felt like his teeth were itching with rage. He had meant to humiliate Clayton—but the boy had flipped the situation entirely in his favor. "Damn you, Clayton... Enjoy it while it lasts. I'll wipe that smug smile off your face soon enough."

Chapter 8

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