Due to the current season, the types of crops that can be grown in the greenhouse are limited, and Chen Qing will have to wait until next spring to plant the main staple crops. However, that hasn’t stopped him from eagerly planting some common leafy greens that grow quickly.

Although they had a greenhouse, as winter deepened, the vegetables would, in theory, grow much more slowly than they did when the weather was warmer.

After receiving the seeds from Jiang Le, Chen Qing didn’t have high hopes for them; after all, on the surface, they didn’t look much different from the seeds commonly seen before the apocalypse. Chen Qing even assumed they were just some ordinary seeds Jiang Le had saved himself.

However, once Chen Qing began planting them, he discovered a striking difference.

These vegetables were virtually unaffected by the temperature. After being sown and watered, they sprouted from the ground the very next day, and within a dozen or so days, they had grown into proper plants, lush and tender.

But, still haunted by the psychological trauma caused by the mutated mushrooms, Chen Qing did not immediately expand his cultivation or harvest the vegetables for the base’s market.

Instead, he used himself as a test subject first; if he experienced no adverse reactions after eating them for a while, he would then scale up cultivation.

By the time Jiang Le arrived at Base No. 1, Chen Qing had already been testing the vegetables for three days, eating leafy greens at least twice a day.

Unlike most vegetable seeds in the post-apocalyptic world—which, even when they produced crops, often had a strange taste due to mutations—the vegetables grown from the seeds Jiang Le gave him tasted almost exactly the same as they did before the apocalypse. If there was any difference at all, it might even be that they tasted better than they did before the catastrophe.

After confirming this, Chen Qing was overjoyed. His only concern was that he didn’t have enough seeds, so he had to figure out a way to save seeds from his own harvests.

When a guard ran over to tell him that Jiang Le was visiting again, he immediately went out personally to escort him to the greenhouse area.

Jiang Le followed Chen Qing into a greenhouse, where the temperature was considerably warmer than outside. Several different types of vegetables were planted in the beds, among which the baby bok choy was growing the fastest and best.

Jiang Le crouched down, running his fingertips over the leaves and examining their growth from top to bottom. He could tell that the crops had grown quite well even after leaving the farm. Although there were differences in fertilizer and soil quality—meaning they couldn’t quite match the farm’s standards—they were still much better than Jiang Le had anticipated.

Moreover, although these vegetables looked like ordinary crops on the surface, their Level 3 farm experience points ensured they could hold their own against most common mutated plants from the outside world. Therefore, while Chen Qing probably hadn’t noticed it yet, he would certainly discover in time that the land where these vegetables were planted would be largely free from attacks by mutated plants.

Seeing that Jiang Le seemed satisfied with his harvest, Chen Qing spoke up somewhat nervously: “Brother Jiang, you still have some extra seeds—could you spare us a few? We won’t take them for free; we’ll trade you nucleus crystals for them! Besides our own base, we’re in contact with several neighboring bases. If it’s okay with you, we could have them grow these as well—that should significantly ease the containment pressure in Hai City next year.”

The major bases in Hai City did indeed have some official backing from the beginning, and there were plenty of superpower users who were eager to properly develop their bases.

In his previous life, when Jiang Le first joined the Hai City base, the situation wasn’t nearly as dire as it became later on. It was only after the collapse of Base No. 1—and as the stockpiles of industrial goods accumulated before the apocalypse dwindled over time—that the chaos grew increasingly severe.

If there were sufficient resources, perhaps there was still a chance to salvage the situation.

Jiang Le exchanged glances with Chen Qing; at the very least, he could confirm that Chen Qing genuinely intended to do some good.

“All right,” Jiang Le said. “Before I leave this time, I’ll leave you some more seeds.”

Chen Qing’s anxiety gave way to joy. Looking at the lush vegetable patch before him, he finally found a glimmer of hope amid his long-standing despair.

Jiang Le didn’t linger at Base No. 1; after leaving the greenhouse, he was ready to go. He only told Chen Qing about the origins of these rescued ordinary people. Since it was impossible to determine whether they had been completely coerced, he couldn’t fully trust their innocence, so he simply advised Chen Qing to be cautious when assigning them tasks and to take some precautions.

Chen Qing escorted Jiang Le to the base entrance and asked him how he could contact him later if needed.

Jiang Le also wanted to use Base No. 1 as a window to observe Hai City’s future developments, so after a moment’s thought, he said, “I’ll come back after the New Year. If it’s not me in person, it’ll be someone I trust.”

As they were talking, they suddenly heard the sound of footsteps running toward them. Jiang Le turned to look—it was Liu Jianhua and Liu Tianyang. Having heard that Jiang Le had arrived, the two of them had rushed over as fast as they could, determined this time to accompany him no matter what.

“Lele, you left so quickly last time—why didn’t you say anything to Dad?”

“Exactly, bro. We don’t want to stay here. Which base are you at now? We’ll go with you.”

As they spoke, they tried to grab Jiang Le’s arm, but when he gave them a cold stare, they didn’t dare to touch him.

Unexpectedly, however, it wasn’t just the Liu family—father and son—who wanted to follow Jiang Le. About seven or eight ordinary people, including Ning Wenwen, who had just come out of the research institute, also wanted to go with him.

Jiang Le’s father and younger brother were already highly respected at Base No. 1 because of their status, and the Liu family’s desire to follow Jiang Le was simply a desire to go along and live a carefree life doing nothing.

Jiang Le couldn’t be bothered to argue with them, so he had Chen Qing and the other superpower users half-drag, half-persuade the Liu family—father and son—back to the base. He stood alone outside the gates of Base No. 1 with the ordinary people who had just come out of the research institute.

However, when faced with Ning Wenwen and the others, Jiang Le didn’t make an immediate decision; instead, he studied them for a moment.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Ning Wenwen looked at Jiang Le’s pensive expression and felt a bit nervous. But they truly felt no sense of security inside the ordinary base; their post-apocalyptic experiences made them instinctively want to follow a powerful figure, no matter what form that took.

“This is a bit… tricky,” Jiang Le said after sizing them up from head to toe.

Compared to the generally gaunt appearance of other ordinary people in the post-apocalyptic world, these people were plump and well-fed—so much so that, no matter how one looked at them, they didn’t seem capable of doing any hard labor.

Ning Wenwen cleared her throat, trying her best to adopt a gentle, submissive expression, her face radiating the message that she would agree to whatever conditions Jiang Le might propose: “We’re willing to do anything!”

The others—men and women alike—felt much the same way. This was the logic of survival that these attractive young people had learned and adapted to in the post-apocalyptic world.

Besides, Jiang Le was so handsome—compared to him, they could practically consider themselves lucky.

Jiang Le, however, was thinking on a different level. If these people were truly just ordinary people, then taking them back to farm the land would be fine. But if there were a few among them with ties to the forces behind the research institute, then it was all the more reason to bring them back. Let Feng Yun talk to them—if there really were spies among them, it would be the perfect opportunity to root them out and interrogate them, allowing Jiang Le to gather more information about the research institute.

“All right,” Jiang Le said after giving it some thought; he decided there was no harm in it. He mused, “If you’re willing to farm, that is.”

Ning Wenwen and the others, whose minds were filled with all sorts of thoughts: “Huh?”

After several days of arduous travel, they finally returned to Jiangjia Village. To Jiang Le’s surprise, the houses in Jiangjia Village—which had stood vacant for many years—were now inhabited. Although there weren’t many people, there were roughly a dozen or so.

Among them were ordinary people as well as low-level superpower users; they looked like refugees who had ended up here. One of the women was holding vegetables that were clearly grown on the farm.

Faced with the sudden arrival of Jiang Le and his group, they were visibly nervous and did not approach to speak.

Jiang Le didn’t approach them to ask how they’d ended up there. Jiangjia Village had originally been several kilometers away from the farm, but as the farm’s cultivation area continued to expand, the distance had now shrunk to just one or two kilometers. The surrounding mutated plants were also within the farm’s clearance zone, so the houses here had largely remained in a habitable condition.

Mao Xiaofei also frequently patrolled this area; without the consent of the farm’s staff, it would have been impossible for them to live here. Putting that matter aside for the time being, Jiang Le led Ning Wenwen and the others to the farm first.

Standing at the entrance to Peace Farm, it wasn’t until the farm gates opened that Ning Wenwen realized what Jiang Le meant by “farming”—it was, quite literally, farming.

It had been nearly a month since their last visit, and the farm had undergone quite a few changes.

Jiang Le first called over Mao Xiaofei and asked him to fetch Feng Yun. Once Feng Yun arrived, he whispered a few words to him, then had Feng Yun take Ning Wenwen and the others to the office building nearby for a private conversation.

Meanwhile, Jiang Le turned his attention to Mao Xiaofei, who looked somewhat anxious.

“Tell me what’s going on at Jiangjia Village.”

Mao Xiaofei looked a bit uneasy as he gauged Jiang Le’s reaction and gave a rough account of the situation.

These people had wandered over shortly after Jiang Le left the farm. Some were families, some were friends; since the apocalypse, they’d been drifting from place to place, living in constant fear. They happened to run into Mao Xiaofei while he was patrolling around the base. Seeing that the group included both the young and the old, men and women, Mao Xiaofei couldn’t bear to turn them away.

After discussing it with Kong Shuya and the others, he decided to tacitly allow them to settle nearby. He also permitted them to use nucleus crystals to trade for resources like vegetables and meat from the farm.

These people usually collected low-grade nucleus crystals from mutated plants in the vicinity. Since the farm had exchange machines that converted them into coins usable for shopping, and the farm’s produce wasn’t very expensive, they were able to put food on the table. Plus, with the safe environment nearby, their psychological stress was significantly reduced. They’d been settled there for about ten days now, with no incidents, and both sides had adapted well.

But this was ultimately their own decision. As people already under Jiang Le’s protection, it was wrong of them to shelter others near the farm without his permission.

“Brother Jiang, I haven’t let them get anywhere near the farm. Every day when I exchange supplies with them, I collect enough nucleus crystals to ensure the farm doesn’t lose money on the trade.”

Jiang Le’s mood wasn’t as bad as Mao Xiaofei had anticipated. Allowing some harmless people to live near the farm was something that was bound to happen sooner or later. In fact, one day, people who weren’t so rule-abiding might arrive as well—and the very purpose of the farm was to ensure that everyone wanting to settle in the area followed its rules.

“I’m not blaming you,” Jiang Le said. “The farm doesn’t intend to cut itself off from the outside world entirely. As long as we ensure they live within the farm’s boundaries and don’t do anything that harms the farm.”

Mao Xiaofei’s unease finally subsided, and he nodded vigorously: “Mm-hmm! I’ll definitely keep a close eye on them.”

Once their conversation was over, Jiang Le sent Mao Xiaofei back to work. About ten minutes later, Feng Yun emerged again, accompanied by Ning Wenwen and her group.

Feng Yun shook his head at Jiang Le, indicating that he hadn’t picked up any suspicious thoughts among them. These people had essentially been forcibly abducted to the research institute; normally, they weren’t allowed to go anywhere near other areas except their own living quarters. Therefore, even those who had been at the institute for several months knew absolutely nothing about what went on behind the scenes.

Jiang Le wasn’t disappointed by this; at the very least, it ruled out the possibility that these people were spies.

However, for the time being, Ning Wenwen and the others couldn’t stay at the farm. Since the staff dormitories hadn’t been expanded yet, they were temporarily housed in Jiangjia Village, where they became neighbors with the other refugees.

Although returning to the farm felt like coming home, Jiang Le didn’t have much time to relax; the tasks awaiting him were piling up. First on the list was the farm’s expansion.

Over the past few dozen days, the previous batch of employees had fully adapted to farm life, and the farm’s current cultivation area was just enough to accommodate their workload. It was time to clear new land and assign new employees.

What to plant and raise on each plot of land, how to maximize gold coins and experience points, and how to get the farm up and running as quickly as possible—these were all matters Jiang Le needed to consider.

It took Jiang Le nearly two or three days to allocate funds—part for purchasing new land, part for expanding the staff dormitories, and part for buying various seedlings—and to schedule planting and harvesting dates.

During those two or three days, he spent most of his time at the farm. This allowed him to make arrangements and plans while keeping a close eye on Xiao Lang’s recovery progress at any time.

The cracks in Xiao Lang’s nucleus crystal caused by its injuries have largely healed, and all its vital signs are returning to normal. He is no longer completely unresponsive during his slumber; occasionally, he makes small movements, such as kicking his legs in the air, all of which indicate that his condition is steadily improving.

During this battle inside the research facility, the exploration level of the Creature Compendium also saw unprecedented progress.

The one-shot kills of several Level 5 aberrant beasts and a Level 6 mutated turtle have propelled the compendium’s exploration to a new stage, unlocking new items once again.

The Nucleus Crystal Synthesizer was upgraded from intermediate to advanced level. Not only did the synthesis success rate increase, but the range of items that could be synthesized also expanded.

It has evolved from synthesizing nucleus crystals to zombie nucleus crystals, and now to nucleus crystal weapons.

Nucleus Crystal Weapons, as the name suggests, combine Nucleus Crystals with weapons. Take the fishbone knife that Jiang Le damaged as an example: fishbone itself is a very hard, special material. After adding the appropriate Nucleus Crystal and forging it through the synthesizer, the fishbone knife can absorb the properties of that Nucleus Crystal, gaining various bonuses such as agility, strength, and durability.

For Jiang Le, a good weapon is also an essential tool.

Currently, in addition to the skeleton of a mutated giant fish, Jiang Le’s warehouse also contained the hard shell of a mutated turtle. These were all excellent base materials; as soon as Jiang Le found suitable nucleus crystals, he could forge them into a weapon that suited his needs.

He had brought back more than just the turtle shell from the research institute; there were other supplies that Jiang Le had simply stowed away in his warehouse. It was only now that he had the time to take a closer look at exactly what they were.

Most of it consisted of various kinds of food—packaged in bags and cans. The research institute had several generators and a cold storage unit, which contained a considerable amount of meat.

The remaining non-food supplies were as varied as those in a department store, and there were even quite a few books among them.

Jiang Le didn’t examine them one by one; he simply skimmed through them on the electronic screen in front of the warehouse. Judging by the titles, they weren’t anything out of the ordinary—there were books for all ages and on a wide range of topics, quite different from what Jiang Le had imagined a sinister research institute would need.

However, as he scrolled to the very end of the screen, a line of text caught Jiang Le’s attention.

A piece of paper with a drawing on it.

Jiang Le retrieved this item from the warehouse and discovered that the piece of paper was actually tucked inside an unremarkable book. To call it a “drawing” would be an overstatement—the simple lines on it could hardly be considered a drawing at all; they were just a few scattered circles connected by lines.

It looked as if a child had scribbled it offhand and then casually tucked it into the book.

If it weren’t for the system’s warehouse categorizing every item in detail, Jiang Le might never have noticed this piece of paper’s existence in his entire life.

He held the paper in his hand, examining both sides, and even held it to his nose to smell it—it had the faint scent of ordinary children’s watercolor markers.

Jiang Le shook his head, casually slipped the paper back into the book, returned it to the warehouse, and went back to his other tasks.

Now that the blood vine had spent more time roaming freely outside, it could hardly stand to stay cooped up in the space anymore. Jiang Le simply let it go out to roam freely, on the condition that it didn’t scare anyone outside.

Having been granted a special reprieve, the blood vine immediately began to enjoy the fresh air outside. The mother vine basked in the sunlight on the office windowsill, while the offspring roamed all over the farm’s vicinity, with Jiangjia Village also falling within its usual range.

Ning Wenwen was crouched by the wall, sighing deeply. She hadn’t seen Jiang Le in several days. For the past couple of days, the only person they’d seen was a young man surnamed Mao from the farm, who came out daily with some food to trade with them. From him, they’d learned that the farm would be publicly recruiting workers in a few days, and they could apply then—only selected employees would be allowed to live on the farm.

Ning Wenwen looked at her thin arms and legs and was a little worried she wouldn’t be selected.

However, for the refugees who weren’t part of their group, this was good news, so they were all delighted. By contrast, Ning Wenwen felt even more disheartened.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something flit past through the grass. It looked somewhat familiar. Ning Wenwen rubbed her eyes and saw another section pass by. Convinced she hadn’t misseen it, she took two steps forward. Sure enough, it was exactly what she’d thought it was, and she let out a joyful cry: “Blood vine!”

The writhing vine did indeed slow down, rising stiffly from the grass and pointing toward Ning Wenwen. As if she were greeting an old friend, Ning Wenwen stepped forward and asked, “Do you still remember me?”

The blood vine didn’t move, but Ning Wenwen felt that it remembered her.

So, as if confiding a secret, she said to the blood vine, “Sigh, I really want to join the farm, but I don’t know if I can compete with those men. I see there are two superpower users among the others—will the farm give them priority?”

The blood vine seemed to be listening intently.

But in reality, it was merely capturing the scent molecules surrounding Ning Wenwen. From the blood vine’s perspective, all it could see was a roughly human-shaped outline made up of scent molecules. As for the sound, the blood vine could only think: “What’s all this mumbling about? Where can I get a bite to eat?”

Being fed until it was stuffed every day at the research institute was both a fond memory for the blood vine and something that had spoiled its appetite; now, just seeing a person made it want to eat them.

But no matter what, it couldn’t eat them.

The blood vine was about to walk away, but when Ning Wenwen saw it turn, she circled around to continue talking to it.

The blood vine’s patience wore thin. Through scent molecules, it could see Ning Wenwen’s soft, long hair swaying in the breeze. Actually, aside from flesh and blood, human hair had a unique flavor all its own—much like a little snack.

This was too much—it was practically forcing it to commit a crime.

Ning Wenwen’s mouth was still chattering away, but the blood vine had reached its limit. With a whoosh, it leaped up and, at a speed Ning Wenwen couldn’t possibly react to, coiled around her hair. It released just a tiny bit of corrosive fluid, and her hair was instantly melted and severed. The blood vine didn’t even forget to use its suction cups to suck up the excess corrosive fluid, lest it actually burn this fragile human.

By the time Ning Wenwen realized what had happened, the blood vine had already coiled itself around a large lock of her long hair and darted deep into the grass, vanishing in the blink of an eye. Ning Wenwen raised her hand to touch her head; the long hair she had once cherished so dearly was now cut short, like a little boy’s.

Not knowing why the blood vine had done this, Ning Wenwen felt like crying but had no tears to shed. It took her half an hour to come to terms with what had happened before she got up and returned to the room. A female roommate yawned as she walked out of the room and froze when she saw Ning Wenwen’s appearance: “Is there a hair salon around here?”

Ning Wenwen waved her hand listlessly, not wanting to talk.

The next day, Mao Xiaofei came to announce that the farm was hiring. He told everyone interested to go to the farm for an assessment; those who passed would become full-time employees and enjoy the farm’s benefits.

However, there was no need to worry about making a living; those not selected could still live in Jiangjia Village. Moving forward, the farm would designate an area to be cleared each day and collectively assign the sheltered refugees who were temporarily unemployed to clean up the designated area, accompanied by security personnel to ensure their safety to the greatest extent possible while they work outside the farm’s boundaries.

Although Ning Wenwen had been feeling down all day because of her hair, upon hearing this news, she quickly tidied herself up and followed the main group toward the farm.

A bulletin board was set up outside the farm, outlining the number of workers to be hired and the general job descriptions. In addition to Mao Xiaofei, Kong Shuya also helped with the screening process.

Since they had more frequent contact with the refugees outside the farm and understood their character better, Jiang Le entrusted this task to them.

Just as Ning Wenwen had anticipated, the other refugees had arrived earlier than they had and were already familiar with the farm staff; most of them were granted employee status with little difficulty.

For the rest of them, the process was relatively more difficult. Ning Wenwen had already had one applicant rejected earlier, on the grounds that he didn’t quite meet the job requirements; he was told to go home and wait for a callback.

When Ning Wenwen was asked to step forward, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. She managed a forced smile at Kong Shuya and waited for her decision.

Just then, the farm gate swung open again, and Jiang Le walked out. He stopped beside Kong Shuya and asked, “How did it go?”

Kong Shuya replied, “She’s the last one. I think she’s a good fit.”

Jiang Le glanced at Ning Wenwen, ignoring her expression of nervousness bordering on fainting, but noticing her short hair instead. He didn’t know how she’d gotten it that short, but Jiang Le, in a rare moment of sincerity, complimented her: “It looks good—perfect for manual labor.”

Kong Shuya nodded in agreement, “That’s what I think, too.”

Among all these men and women, Ning Wenwen’s hair was almost the shortest. For a girl who clearly cared a lot about her appearance, didn’t that prove enough of her determination to devote herself to farming?

She’s just so impressive.

It wasn’t until Kong Shuya motioned for Ning Wenwen to join the group of selected employees that Ning Wenwen finally realized what was happening. She… had been selected?

A dozen or so seconds later, after processing the news, Ning Wenwen was overcome with elation. A sudden flash of insight crossed her mind, and her gaze involuntarily drifted to the cultivation dish on Jiang Le’s wrist. Several vines were poking out from between the blood vines, half-heartedly sniffing the scent molecules in the air—a mere consolation to satisfy their cravings.

It all made sense—everything fell into place, Ning Wenwen thought excitedly. It turned out that the blood vine had heard every word she’d confided in it that day. Snapping off her hair hadn’t been out of any malice, but rather to help her resolve her troubles. What seemed like a hurtful act was, in fact, an act of love.

If it weren’t for the blood vine, she would likely have been among those sent back to the waiting list today.

Ning Wenwen clasped her hands tightly and gazed intently at the blood vine, feeling that it was truly a rare, kind, adorable, and comforting mutant plant in this world.

Is there no true affection in this world? Is there no great love in this world?

Only the blood vine remained completely unaware of its own noble character; its tendrils curled in the air, its sole concern being where to find a few people to eat.