After lying there for a moment, Tong Zhanyan quickly switched pages and purchased another locally listed secondhand item.

It was a lamp—one that could adjust its light spectrum.

He’d had his eye on it for ages; all he needed to do was pay. But this purchase instantly turned his five-digit bank balance into a four-digit one.

Closing his eyes, Tong Zhanyan forced himself to calm down and take a nap.

He didn’t sleep well. The break was short to begin with, and he’d spent extra time shopping. It felt like he’d barely closed his eyes when the alarm went off.

When he stumbled out, drowsy, Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran were already waiting at the stairwell.

Seeing him approach, they paused their conversation and looked up.

“What took you so long?” Su Yanran asked.

“Didn’t sleep well,” Tong Zhanyan replied.

Su Yanran’s eyes filled with concern.

Having also come from the outer city, he felt a deeper kinship with Tong Zhanyan, which only intensified his worry about whether Tong Zhanyan could endure.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t want to continue the topic and asked, “What were you two talking about just now?”

“The Qing Family issued a statement about last night’s incident…” Tian Xinqing led the way downstairs. At this hour, the hallway was filled with people rushing to class.

This planet was also called Earth, but it bore no resemblance to the Earth Tong Zhanyan knew. Human settlements were shielded by protective domes, while the surrounding areas teemed with mutated flora and fauna—even direct sunlight could be fatal.

The Four Great Houses were the major powers stationed in the outer city, guarding the protective shield upon which their survival depended. An attack on them wasn’t just about a few casualties—if the shield were breached, everyone would be doomed.

The assault had occurred last night. By morning, only those with inside information knew about it. But after the Qing Family posted their casualty report on their official website at noon, the news had spread to everyone.

When Tong Zhanyan and the others entered the classroom, the entire class was buzzing about the incident.

“I heard Qing Jiyue joined the fight this time—as a key combatant, no less.”

“Isn’t he the same age as us?” The speaker’s tone dripped with envy. While they were drilled like dogs by Devil King day in and day out, Qing Jiyue was already fighting on the front lines—and as a key combatant at that.

“Well, his Spirit Beast is naturally S-rank, and he has that super ability—telekinesis.”

“Tsk…” The speaker’s tone turned even more bitter.

“Not just him—Gu Yinfeng seems to be joining the battle too.” Tian Xinqing, who had just entered the classroom, chimed in.

“He’s not from the East City. Why’s he heading to the South City?”

The Qing Family guards the southern sector, while the Gu Family holds the eastern.

“They’re engaged. Isn’t it natural for them to be together?”

The classroom atmosphere shifted instantly, a hint of innuendo flickering in everyone’s eyes.

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t stop thinking about his thirty-thousand-yuan purchase. After taking his seat, he opened his terminal to check.

The seller must have sensed his hesitation—by the time he woke from his nap, the item had already been shipped.

Tong Zhanyan felt both amused and exasperated.

But he knew regret was useless now. He actually breathed a sigh of relief—at least he wouldn’t have to keep worrying about it.

The class bell rang, and the previously bustling classroom instantly fell silent.

Their teacher, the Devil King appeared at the door almost precisely on time. After barking, “Head to the playground,” he descended the stairs.

Knowing they faced an entire afternoon of practical training, pained expressions spread across every face in the classroom.

Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran both shot worried glances at Tong Zhanyan.

Though many had already gathered on the vast playground, Class 25 of the first year formed their lines the fastest, most neatly, and most quietly.

The Devil King detested chatter and dawdling during his lessons.

“Why haven’t you summoned your Spirit Beasts yet? Are you waiting for me to coax you?” The Devil King spoke.

Devil King had explicitly stated earlier that private Spirit Beast summoning was forbidden during his class.

The group dared not voice their anger, but summoned their Spirit Beasts one after another.

In an instant, various ferocious birds and beasts, indistinguishable from ordinary animals, appeared in succession.

Tong Zhanyan took two attempts before succeeding.

This scene was almost instantly caught by the Devil King, causing his right eyebrow—pierced by a scar—to twitch.

Tong Zhanyan felt a chill run down his spine, bracing for the impending scolding.

Unlike the other spirit beasts that obediently crouched beside their masters the moment they appeared, the one Tong Zhanyan summoned looked around in confusion before taking a step forward, as if preparing for a stroll.

The Devil King’s eyebrow twitched violently again.

Feeling the stares, the entire class turned to look.

Fearing discovery, Tong Zhanyan had deliberately chosen the very last seat in the back row.

The moment they saw it, the entire class’s expressions turned bizarre.

Equally bizarre was the Devil King, who seemed ready to drag Tong Zhanyan straight to the dean’s office to expel him.

Tong Zhanyan blinked his innocent eyes.

Disheveled red feathers, sparse tail feathers, a fiery red crest, strutting with head held high and eyes full of arrogance…

Indeed, Tong Zhanyan’s spirit beast was a chicken.

And a rather scruffy-looking chicken at that.

Everyone else had fierce beasts, or at the very least creatures with claws and teeth. Only he stood out like a chicken among beasts…

Even Tong Zhanyan found it hard to stay calm.

As if sensing his thoughts, the chicken turned its head and protested with a “cluck cluck cluck.”

Hearing that cluck—slightly different from ordinary chickens but not drastically so—the Devil King didn’t just frown; the veins on his bald head began to throb.

Everyone waited for him to erupt.

The Devil King took a deep breath, surprisingly choosing not to make things difficult. Instead, he addressed today’s training: “Disperse and begin fusion. Pay attention if you don’t want to die…”

Tong Zhanyan breathed a sigh of relief and followed the group’s movements.

Spreading out to a certain distance, the group began the fusion process.

Spirit beasts possessed two forms: one indistinguishable from ordinary beasts yet far more intelligent, and another—a colossal state achieved through fusion with their master.

The former was achievable by anyone, while the latter demanded innate talent.

Though open to all applicants, Sidi Military Academy’s entrance exams ruthlessly weeded out the incompetent. Those who remained possessed formidable foundations.

Except for Tong Zhanyan.

In that brief moment, everyone in the class except Tong Zhanyan vanished, replaced by a horde of monstrous beasts—predatory birds and ferocious creatures towering two or three stories high.

A whistle pierced the air, accompanied by the Devil King’s command: “Five laps.”

A herd of beasts steadily made their way toward the outer perimeter beastification track.

The track stretched far ahead, and before reaching it, several individuals began disengaging from their fusion state.

This state was intensely draining on mental energy.

As if completely abandoned, Devil King ignored Tong Zhanyan for the entire afternoon.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t slack off, though—after all, it determined how long he’d survive.

Unfortunately, after staring at that chicken for an entire class period, he still hadn’t achieved the so-called fusion.

When class finally ended, and the Devil King left with obvious displeasure, Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran were already pale-faced and drenched in sweat.

At the cafeteria, Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran immediately found a spot to rest, leaving the rare task of queuing for dinner to Tong Zhanyan.

Once he returned with the food, Tong Zhanyan forced down his nausea and downed his portion in one gulp. Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran, however, sipped theirs slowly from the bags as they walked back.

There were no classes that night, and self-study was optional.

None of them attended. Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran returned to their room and collapsed into sleep. Tong Zhanyan read for a while before also retiring early.

Before sleeping, he checked the shipping updates. The package was already en route.

The next morning, Tong Zhanyan opened his eyes and immediately checked again. The package had moved closer. With luck, it might arrive by the end of the second class period.

The morning was free of the Devil King’s class, and the entire class breathed a sigh of relief.

All morning, Tong Zhanyan’s heart was tied to the shipping updates, opening his terminal to check at regular intervals.

The items did indeed arrive at the end of the second period, but the break was nowhere near long enough for him to carry them back and unpack them. The remaining two periods felt excruciatingly long.

Finally reaching lunch break, Tong Zhanyan immediately headed toward the security office with Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran.

There were four boxes in total. One contained a lamp, while the other three were each nearly waist-high and heavy as lead.

“What did you buy? How come it’s so heavy?” Tian Xinqing asked on the way.

“It’s a secret,” Tong Zhanyan replied, not ready to explain just yet.

He hadn’t known Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran for long, but they got along well. If they found out he’d spent his entire savings on this pile of junk and was trying to use it to secure a spot staying on campus, they’d definitely drag him back to get a refund.

The two looked thoroughly suspicious, but ultimately said nothing.

Tong Zhanyan was a man who knew his limits.

After helping carry the items upstairs and into Tong Zhanyan’s bedroom, the two headed back to the cafeteria.

Closing the door, Tong Zhanyan immediately pulled out a utility knife and began dismantling the boxes.

The lamp wasn’t needed right now, so he first tackled the heaviest box. Sure enough, it contained soil packed into two large sealed barrels.

The second box held a square cardboard box and fifteen used plastic flower pots stacked inside. Among them were over a dozen tubes of liquid fertilizer, neatly bagged as complimentary gifts.

Tong Zhanyan pulled out the cardboard box but didn’t open it immediately. Instead, he turned his attention to the last large crate.

Inside the final crate were four cardboard boxes stacked side by side.

After extracting all five boxes, Tong Zhanyan took a deep breath and continued unpacking.

Inside were tomato seedlings.

To prevent soil from spilling out during transport and to protect the seedlings, the boxes had been double-packed.

Tong Zhanyan took only two or three minutes to unpack the large box, but it took him a full ten-plus minutes to unpack all five seedlings.

All five were small tomato seedlings, and all were dwarf varieties.

To Tong Zhanyan, these tomatoes held far more ornamental value than edible worth. In the past, he wouldn’t have given them a second glance. But here, a single seed costs at least five or six thousand yuan.

The condition of the five seedlings was worse than he’d anticipated. Insufficient light and root rot had caused most of the leaves to turn yellow, while the main stems were weak and spindly from lack of nutrients.

The only relief for Tong Zhanyan was that the seedlings were already fairly developed. Four of them even showed flower buds, meaning they could potentially bear fruit within half a month and ripen over the next month.

With seeds this expensive, the resulting crop would naturally be even pricier. If all went well, just these five tomato seedlings could recoup his investment.

Provided they actually survived.

After all, the two worlds had some discrepancies.

Tong Zhanyan refused to dwell on his worries. After a brief rest, he retrieved his lighter and began poking holes in the flower pots.

For plants to thrive, the fundamentals—sunlight, air, water, nutrients, and soil—were all essential. When growing in pots, ventilation demanded special attention.

This ventilation applies not only to the above-ground parts but also to the root system buried in the soil.

A narrow, sealed space keeps the soil perpetually damp. Excessive moisture causes root rot, triggering a cascade of problems.

The person who sold him these clearly didn’t know any of this, using completely sealed, non-breathable plastic pots.

After spending some time drilling two rows of holes in the bottom of each pot and another two rows around the sides, Tong Zhanyan placed them all in a shaded, well-ventilated spot toward the back of the balcony and left them undisturbed.

Plants that had just endured rough handling needed neither water nor fertilizer at this stage—they required acclimatization.

Lined up against the corner, the seedlings appeared even more frail and sickly.

After pondering, Tong Zhanyan returned inside, retrieved a floating camera, powered it up, connected it to his livestream, then brought it back out to the balcony, aiming it at the five seedlings.

Gardening was a hot topic online right now. Even if the plants didn’t survive, running a successful livestream could still bring in decent income.

After buying the lights, he had less than five thousand yuan left in his pocket. Naturally, he had to seize every possible opportunity.

Unfortunately, the terminal and camera left by the original owner were both outdated models. To keep the livestream running continuously, the terminal had to stay in the dorm, meaning he couldn’t monitor it constantly.

Naturally, his newly launched stream had no viewers. After a quick setup, Tong Zhanyan placed the terminal on his desk and turned to tidy up the mess.

After his little project, the room was littered with cardboard boxes, tape, and soil. Thankfully, his roommate hadn’t checked in yet—otherwise, complaints were inevitable.