This winter was colder than usual; even in a southern city like Jiang City—which isn’t at a high latitude—the daily high temperature couldn’t break zero degrees. A thick layer of ice had formed on the water’s surface, and only the mutant vegetation along the riverbanks still showed signs of greenery.

Hunger and cold dealt a heavy blow to the survival of ordinary people, but in Jiangjia Village, everything looked quite different.

Ding Mingcheng was a Level 2 superpower user. At this point in time, Level 2 was considered low-tier—only slightly stronger than ordinary people. After the apocalypse began, he had once lived in a base with his mother and younger sister. He had originally thought the base would provide shelter for his family, but he never expected the small base to be rife with chaos; the potential dangers posed by fellow humans were no less than those from mutated plants and animals.

To ensure the safety of his mother and younger sister, Ding Mingcheng decided to leave the base with his family and settle in an area not far from it, where there were no large mutated creatures.

They wandered all the way to the foot of a mountain on the outskirts of Jiang City, and while fleeing a mutated domestic chicken, they ended up scrambling up the mountain in a panic.

After venturing deeper into the mountains, they were surprised to find that the mutated chicken had stopped chasing them. Only then did Ding Mingcheng realize that the area they were in was virtually devoid of high-level mutated creatures. The dense vegetation lining both sides of the path was not only of a low level but also very docile—as if it had been deliberately culled.

Ding Mingcheng’s intuition told him there must be some terrifying presence on the mountain that the mutated creatures feared, but with the mutated chicken blocking their way down, he had no choice but to make a temporary stop halfway up the mountain.

It was there that he ran into Mao Xiaofei, who had come out to clean the mountain path and was patrolling the surrounding area, and this encounter gave him the opportunity to come live in Jiangjia Village. Even now, when he thinks back on it, Ding Mingcheng feels that fate has been kind to him.

When the farm posted job openings this time, Ding Mingcheng was fortunate enough to be hired and could move into the farm’s staff dormitory. However, while he could go, his family could not. Although living in Jiangjia Village during this time had convinced Ding Mingcheng that no danger would arise there, he still decided to live with his family outside the farm.

To his surprise, after reporting his decision, he actually received a housing subsidy, which immediately eased his financial situation considerably. After placing a bundle of firewood in the courtyard, Ding Mingcheng watched the smoke rising from the chimney and knew his family had already woken up.

He pushed open the door and walked inside. Behind the stove, his younger sister was stoking the fire while warming her hands over the firebox.

In the pot were steaming corn, eggs, and steamed buns made from flour—all traded for at the farm the day before. The rising steam released the food’s aroma, which wafted from the pot and filled the entire room.

After breakfast, Ding Mingcheng was getting ready to head to work. As he passed the main road leading from Jiangjia Village to the farm, he noticed a crowd gathered around a newly erected bulletin board, talking animatedly and exchanging comments.

“What’s going on?” Ding Mingcheng stood outside, standing on tiptoe to look inside.

This bulletin board was set up for those who hadn’t been hired to work on the farm. Every day, they could check here to find out which areas around the farm had security crops that day, along with the specific tasks and potential pay for each section, so they could decide whether to sign up.

Speaking of these “security crops,” rumor had it they were actually tomatoes and cucumbers. Some workers, overcome by a sudden craving while on the job, would sneak off to pick them—only to have the produce explode right in their hands. Not only did the blast leave their hands numb, but they didn’t even get to eat a single bite. When they clocked out at the end of the day, points equivalent to the value of the fruit or vegetables were deducted from their pay.

It wasn’t until a mutated wild boar burst in one day that everyone scattered in panic—only to discover that a single tomato had blown the boar right off its feet. Only then did they realize how lenient the previous punishment for stealing the “security crops” had been, and from that moment on, they behaved themselves completely, terrified that they might be blown to bits like the wild boar.

But back to the present moment—someone in the crowd responded to Ding Mingcheng.

“The farm has sent out a survey asking villagers to list their needs for supplies—quilted blankets, cotton coats, cotton pants, cotton shoes, thermoses, pots, bowls, ladles, and the like.”

Hearing this, Ding Mingcheng’s heart warmed, and he pushed his way even harder into the crowd—his family was in desperate need of these very items! Having wandered for so long, they had saved up almost no supplies. Now that he was working at the farm, his mother and younger sister were basically confined to huddling around a brazier at home; their thin clothing made it difficult for them to go out and about.

Ding Mingcheng’s family wasn’t the only one in this situation; most people in Jiangjia Village were in a similar predicament.

As a result, they were all very enthusiastic about the survey the farm had announced today—though their enthusiasm had gone a bit too far, leading to a somewhat chaotic scene.

Mao Xiaofei arrived from the farm, saw the scene, and quickly stepped in to restore order: “Hey, hey, hey! Just send one representative per family to sign the list—why are you all crowding in like this?”

Ding Mingcheng, who hadn’t managed to squeeze into the crowd, quickly grabbed Mao Xiaofei and asked, “Brother Xiaofei, we have a big family. Is there a limit on how much of this supply we can get?”

“Of course not. Just write down the number you need after your name.”

In front of Mao Xiaofei, no one dared to cause a commotion, and order was finally restored. Those in need of supplies used the chalk provided below the bulletin board to write their names on it.

The demand for cotton-padded coats and quilts was the highest; almost everyone wanted them.

Of course, given most people’s current daily earnings, they couldn’t afford these supplies.

“These supplies should arrive around noon. For those who’ve requested them, a small amount will be deducted from your daily wages going forward. Rest assured, this will be done in a way that doesn’t affect your daily lives.”

After Mao Xiaofei finished speaking, he picked up a piece of chalk and began writing on a blank space on the bulletin board.

His handwriting was a bit crooked; he hadn’t always been confident in his role as a leader, but as time went on, Jiang Le had entrusted him with more responsibilities. Now, Mao Xiaofei had shed most of his former naivety and was generally at ease in front of both the staff and the refugees.

What Mao Xiaofei was writing at that moment, however, was the true reason he had come here. As he wrote, someone read the text aloud.

“Farm hiring…”

Those words alone were enough to perk up everyone present, and they eagerly awaited what Mao Xiaofei would write next.

“A new slaughterhouse has been established at the farm, requiring three employees. Interested parties may go to the farm to sign up.”

The first few batches of livestock had been purchased as young calves, but by this late winter, they had all but fully grown.

As a supporting facility for the breeding area, the slaughterhouse could be constructed at the farm owner’s discretion. Jiang Le had previously been counting the gold coins he had on hand and hadn’t been in a hurry, but now that the timing was right—and since it would create jobs for the farm—he decided to have the construction crew build it alongside the farm’s latest land expansion and the establishment of staff dormitories.

Setting aside the enthusiastic response to the job openings, let’s get back to Jiang Le.

It took him a few days to roughly plan out the farm’s planting, animal husbandry, and infrastructure for the coming period. That morning, Jiang Le was awakened by a wolf’s paw slapping him across the face.

It was completely out of sync with Jiang Le’s natural sleep cycle. He had been feeling a bit drowsy, but the moment his mind realized what had just disturbed him, his eyes snapped open.

In his arms, a puppy was staring at him, its soft paw pads pressed against Jiang Le’s cheek, refusing to look away as if it hadn’t seen him in ages.

Jiang Le lowered his head and rubbed his forehead against the soft fur on the puppy’s head. Then, much to Xiao Lang’s surprise, he pulled the pup tightly against his chest.

“You pesky little pup,” Jiang Le muttered, hugging it tighter and tighter despite his words. Calling it a “pup” was a crime—and calling it “pesky” was an unforgivable offense!

Xiao Lang felt he should angrily swat this person, who was becoming increasingly out of line, with a paw. But held like this by Jiang Le, Xiao Lang somehow felt he couldn’t muster any strength in his entire body. The only thing he wanted to do was rub against the warm skin at Jiang Le’s neck once more, leaving plenty of his own scent behind so that all the mutants out there would know, the moment they saw Jiang Le, whose pup he was.

But just as Xiao Lang was lost in this bliss, Jiang Le suddenly let go of him, tossing him back and forth and examining him from every angle. “Are you all healed up now? Is there anywhere on your body that still hurts?”

Xiao Lang’s fur nearly stood on end. It covered its rear with its big tail and clamped Jiang Le’s hand between its teeth, preventing him from moving any further. Jiang Le found it amusing and teased, “Wow, a little puppy that already knows how to protect its privacy.”

No sooner had he spoken than the wolf cub in front of him suddenly transformed into a colossal form that filled nearly half the room, instantly pinning Jiang Le back onto the bed.

Its four limbs firmly pinned Jiang Le’s hands and feet, and its massive wolf head loomed over him, its aqua-blue eyes clear and focused, reflecting nothing but Jiang Le’s face.

Jiang Le tried to break free, but discovered that, due to this evolution, Xiao Lang had successfully advanced to Level 6, while he himself was still a Level 5 superpower user for the time being. This unexpected evolution had reversed the power dynamic between them for the first time—he actually couldn’t break free from Xiao Lang’s grip.

“All right, all right, I’m sorry—is that okay?” Jiang Le didn’t care about saving face. “You’re not small at all—you’re huge.”

Xiao Lang, however, seemed to have taken an interest in this kind of dominance. He loosened one of his claws and, mimicking Jiang Le’s earlier movements, tried to toss Jiang Le back and forth, examining him from every angle.

No matter how certain he was that Xiao Lang was on his side—and that their long-standing closeness and the bond between master and pet would prevent Xiao Lang from ever harming him—the sudden loss of control over the situation still left Jiang Le feeling somewhat unsettled. For the first time, he experienced the oppressive presence of such a highly evolved mutant.

The wolf’s claw unexpectedly caught the hem of Jiang Le’s shirt. He wasn’t sensitive to the cold, so he was wearing only a thin nightshirt. The fabric couldn’t withstand the tug of the wolf’s claw, and it immediately tore with a sound of strain, exposing the lower half of Jiang Le’s waist.

The skin there was fair, and the muscles supple and firm, clearly visible to the giant mutant wolf’s eyes even without any light.

Jiang Le had been trying to figure out how to escape, but noticed that Xiao Lang had somehow gone blank. He couldn’t be bothered to wonder why; he simply seized the opportunity, quickly wriggled out from under the wolf, and leaped down from the bed, raising his hand to signal Xiao Lang to stop.

“Enough of this. How about I take you out for something to eat?”

The man and the wolf walked out of the small hut. Jiang Le didn’t hesitate to fetch a whole cow and a whole sheep from the warehouse, along with several buckets of goat’s milk and fresh fruits and vegetables from the farm, piling them into a small mountain for Xiao Lang to eat.

Jiang Le stood nearby, watching Xiao Lang eat with great interest.

The Blood Vine, who had been resting in a nearby plot, was roused by the commotion and the scent of meat. He raised a few vines to sniff the air.

Jiang Le caught a glimpse of this. Although he had already fed it earlier that day, he felt it might be a bit cruel to let the blood vine just watch. After all, these mutated creatures could never have too much to eat, so he asked the blood vine, “Would you like some?”

Seeing the vine nod its head slightly in the air, Jiang Le fetched a whole sheep from the warehouse and fed it to the blood vine as a snack. The vine wrapped itself tightly around the sheep but didn’t eat very quickly, digesting it slowly as if it were simply grinding its teeth.

While Jiang Le stuffed a few cucumbers into Xiao Lang’s mouth—which had just finished eating a cow—to help it reset the taste in its mouth before moving on to the next item, he noticed the blood vine’s distracted demeanor. Assuming it thought there wasn’t enough meat, he said, “Xiao Lang has recovered. I’ll calculate the nucleus crystals in a bit and arrange for your upgrade. Eat a little less now so you can digest the nucleus crystals faster.”

Blood vine nodded with its vine to indicate it understood, but in reality, its slow eating wasn’t due to dissatisfaction with the portion size, as Jiang Le had assumed. It was simply because, during its time at the research institute, it had grown accustomed to eating humans—especially the leaner, firmer flesh of superpower users compared to ordinary cattle and sheep. Just thinking about it now made the blood vine’s mouth water so much that its corrosive fluids were practically flowing.

Once you’ve seen the vast sea, no other water will do; once you’ve climbed Mount Wu, no other clouds will do.

With only an hour or two left until dawn, Jiang Le didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, he retrieved the nucleus crystals from the warehouse and, based on the blood vine’s current hexagonal attributes, configured the most efficient and lowest-risk combination of nucleus crystals for it. The primary areas of evolution were speed, defense, and enhanced corrosive fluid toxicity.

After ingesting several Level 4 nucleus crystals, the blood vine officially began its evolution from Level 4 to Level 5. The mother organism would undergo an upgrade within the farm’s space that would last at least a week.

Although the mother plant was dormant, the offspring wandering outside during this time were unaffected by it and continued to roam near the farm. However, without the mother plant’s real-time commands, their minds were consumed by a single, lingering desire.

Where can I find a few superpower users to eat? Hmm, and they have to be evil superpower users.

With the farm as its center, the vines continuously expanded its search radius—five kilometers, ten kilometers—and any further would mean almost completely leaving the farm’s current control zone. Just as it was hesitating over whether to continue expanding its search range, the vines sensed a familiar aura and couldn’t help but burrow its way out from underground.

Looking up, it realized it had somehow ended up in the very forest where it had once lived long ago.

With the blood vine no longer present, the other mutated creatures had been given a chance to catch their breath. During this time, they had thrived—one might even say they were flourishing.

After the blood vine had left, these creatures—which had once been suppressed by it—had achieved a certain ecological balance, refraining from exterminating one another. If the blood vine’s mother consciousness were still active, it would surely have scoffed at this moment: “Pfft, ecological balance? Just an excuse for losers.”

Although it was just a single vine, wherever it roamed, all the mutated creatures recalled the fear of having once been dominated by the blood vine and scattered, cowering in fear.

The offshoot was quite satisfied with this effect and simply stopped right there to rest.

After an unknown amount of time, the vine was roused by a faint vibration coming from the ground. Judging by the feel of the sunlight, it was already late afternoon, and the source of the vibration was human—or, to be precise, several superpower users.

The offspring snapped to attention. It hid itself back underground and began to approach the intruders from beneath the surface without giving itself away.

“Are you sure the coordinates are correct? This place doesn’t seem like it would be home to any high-level mutated creatures at all.”

“According to the map, this is definitely the right spot. It says there’s a naturally formed blood vine here, and its current level might be quite high, so we need to be extra careful.”

“Judging by what we saw when we first entered, this place doesn’t look like the blood vine has ever been here. Given the blood vine’s domineering nature, it’s impossible for so many mutated creatures to have survived in this area.”

“Never mind. Let’s keep looking. It was only a possibility to begin with—we can still report back even if we don’t find anything.”

The offspring, hidden underground, overheard the conversation above. Hearing the words “blood vine” repeated so often, it couldn’t help but begin moving toward the surface. Once it broke through the ground, it could clearly sense the number and approximate power levels of these superpower users.

Three Level 4 superpower users.

Thinking of their scent, a drop of Zitou’s corrosive fluid instantly seeped from the edge of its suction cup.

That tiny drop of corrosive fluid instantly alerted one of the superpower users to the offspring’s location. Immediately, a foot slammed down hard on one end of the offspring with such force that the soil beneath it caved in half a meter, instantly flattening the offspring from its three-dimensional form into a thin, flat sheet.

The offspring wanted to sway its vines, but suddenly realized it had lost all connection with its parent plant. It could no longer use the parent to relay messages to the other vines scattered throughout the area. The hunter had suddenly become the hunted. Zitou immediately changed its strategy: instead of recovering from being crushed, it simply played dead right where it was.

Since the Mother Plant was currently in the 4-to-5-level fluctuation phase, Zitou was affected and temporarily showed no level indication.

“What is that?” He Zheng furrowed his brow as he stepped forward to ask Liang Tao, who was standing on the unidentified object.

Liang Tao felt that the thing under his foot had squirted venom after being crushed and then stopped moving. He lifted his foot and examined it closely, then said uncertainly, said, “It looks like some kind of mutated plant.”

He bent down to pick up the vine segment and frowned: “Is this a blood vine?” From its appearance, it did indeed look somewhat like a blood vine.

He Zheng, however, shook his head and said, “The most distinctive feature of blood vine is that its vines extend underground, with the main vine controlling the tendrils, and new tendrils can constantly sprout, making it nearly impossible to eradicate. A single vine like this, with no rank, is most likely just a local mutant organism trying to mimic the appearance of blood vine—it’s merely an evolutionary strategy.”

After this rollercoaster of emotions, the scene fell into a momentary silence.

Until a third person spoke up: “But even if this is just an imitator, to mimic it so closely, it must have seen the real blood vine before, right?”

Liang Tao’s eyes lit up, and he casually tossed the mimic vine onto the ground beside him. “Then it’s worth searching this area.”

Superpower users walked away, unaware that the mimicking vine—which they’d assumed was completely dead—immediately burrowed back into the ground after they left and began writhing frantically in a certain direction.

Unaware of what the mimicking vine was up to, Jiang Le was in high spirits thanks to Xiao Lang’s awakening.

Xiao Lang had successfully reached Level 6, granting his master a massive experience bonus. Jiang Le wouldn’t have to wait for the blood vine to complete its Level 5 upgrade; he just needed to accumulate a few more days’ worth of daily experience at the farm to earn enough to reach Level 6 himself.

Over the past two days, Jiang Le had spent his days inspecting the crops and construction throughout the farm.

Jiang Le could clearly sense that Xiao Lang had become noticeably closer to him after this level-up; when on the farm, Xiao Lang hardly ever went out to play alone anymore, but instead followed Jiang Le everywhere he went.

Although the memory of being completely overpowered by Xiao Lang that early morning still occasionally flashed through Jiang Le’s mind—leaving him with a vague sense of unease—it seemed Xiao Lang had realized he wasn’t as comfortable with its giant wolf form as he was with its puppy form. From then on, Xiao Lang maintained its four-eyed puppy form, completely eliminating any trace of aggression.

Even though he knew this little puppy only looked small and cute, and that at its core it was still that mutated giant wolf, Jiang Le still couldn’t help but feel that a puppy was a puppy and Xiao Lang was Xiao Lang. While patrolling the farm, he would always hold the puppy in his arms, occasionally stroking its paws, tickling its chin, and—on a whim—picking it up to rub its head against him. He looked every bit the parent consumed by a love for dogs.

Passing by the sheep pen, he happened to see Feng Yun milking the sheep. Jiang Le immediately stopped in his tracks. “Feng Yun, bring out a bucket of milk—I want to feed Xiao Lang.”

Feng Yun looked up and saw a little puppy sprawled out in Jiang Le’s arms, eyes half-closed, looking every bit the spoiled brat.

Feng Yun walked over carrying the milk bucket and set it on the ground, expecting Jiang Le to set Xiao Lang down so it could climb onto the rim of the bucket to drink on its own. To his surprise, Jiang Le picked up the milk bucket and simply held it up for Xiao Lang to drink right there in his arms.

Feng Yun couldn’t help but speak up: “Brother Jiang, isn’t this a bit too much pampering?” 

Jiang Le pondered, “Is it? Actually, I think it’s fine.”

But seeing the look of complete disapproval on Feng Yun’s face, Jiang Le added a quick justification, “It was separated from its parents at a young age. I want to make up for the lack of family love it experienced. To it, I’m its dad.”

Hearing what Feng Yun had just said, Xiao Lang kept nursing while glancing sideways at him out of the corner of his eye, its inner thoughts almost laid bare in Feng Yun’s mind.

Feng Yun suddenly froze, and after a long moment, he whispered, “It doesn’t seem to think of you as its dad. It—”

Midway through his sentence, Feng Yun noticed Xiao Lang had completely stopped nursing and was staring straight at him.

The icy stare of a Level 6 mutant was far more than an ordinary superpower user like him could bear. Feng Yun swallowed the rest of his words and took two quick steps back. Meanwhile, Jiang Le, who hadn’t noticed anything amiss, was still looking down and asking, “Huh? Isn’t the milk from this breed of sheep tasty? Why did you stop drinking it?”

Only then did Xiao Lang break its gaze from Feng Yun and resume drinking.

Oh well, Feng Yun thought, clutching his chest. Everyone has their own fate; a small-time guy like him shouldn’t meddle in the romantic lives of the big shots.

Jiang Le, holding Xiao Lang in his arms, patrolled around the farm until he reached the gate. He was in a rather good mood when suddenly his gaze fell on a clump of soil at the base of the wall that was shifting—it looked as if something was trying to burrow its way out from below.

Jiang Le wasn’t worried about any external threat, since the farm’s security system remained completely unresponsive to it—the old hen perched on the wall was still dozing with her eyes closed.

Just as Jiang Le had expected, what emerged wasn’t some strange creature, but a vine. It had forced its way through the farm’s wall and burst out from beneath the ground. Only then did it seem to feel safe; it flattened itself out and remained motionless for quite a while, not even repairing the part that had been squashed flat.

But soon it caught a familiar scent in the air—Jiang Le, who was almost bound to the blood vine’s mother plant; aside from the mother plant itself, he was the being the offshoot felt closest to.

The offshoot sprang to its feet in an instant, showing Jiang Le its flattened end, as if it had come back to its father to tattle. Jiang Le found it amusing at first, but his smile faded after a moment.

The vine transformed itself into a thin strand, wriggling rapidly across the ground to sketch out three human-shaped figures. It was people—people who had trampled me like this!