A huge thanks to Salt Rose of Topaz. Thank you for your constant support. Enjoy the bonus chapters!

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

“Master Xu?”

Snapping to attention, Shen Ye and Tang Xin scrambled to catch him before helping him sit down on a stool.

Master Xu’s face was flushed a deep liver-red, his brow furrowed tightly. His right hand clutched his chest fiercely, his expression one of extreme agony.

“Medicine! Heart-saving pills!” Shen Ye was the first to react.

Gu Yunyang felt a buzzing in his head. Instinctively, he reached into Old Xu’s coat pocket—knowing the elderly man carried heart-saving pills due to his chronic palpitations.

“Found them…”

“Water!” Shen Ye called out to Tang Xin while helping Old Xu steady his breathing.

Tang Xin hurried to fetch water.

Gu Yunyang seized the moment to pour out a pill.

Watching Gu Yunyang slip the medicine into Old Xu’s mouth, Tang Xin immediately gave him water.

“Old Xu?”

“Old Xu, are you okay?”

Shen Ye and the others were on the verge of tears.

Gu Yunyang wasn’t much better. This was the patriarch of their cultivation world. If he really suffered a fatal stroke from anger, he would be skinned alive.

“Cough cough…”

Old Xu hadn’t lost consciousness. After taking the medicine and drinking water, he quickly regained his strength. In his dazed state, he instinctively looked toward the terminal tossed aside on the table.

The livestream was still going.

Viewers in the chat were now scurrying around the eggplant patch next to the strawberries, rummaging through it with eager anticipation.

Seeing him, seeing his state, the blood that had just settled in Master Xu surged violently once more.

“Old Xu?” Shen Ye’s face twisted in dismay. How could he just regain his composure only to start rolling his eyes again?

Could he really be so enraged?

Gu Yunyang followed Old Xu’s gaze and saw the situation in the livestream. Realizing what was happening, he hurried forward and quickly shut it down.

“Water… drink some more water…” After turning it off, Gu Yunyang hurriedly helped Old Xu smooth his chest.

On camera.

Tong Zhanyan circled the eggplants once, then returned to the tool shed area with a hint of disappointment.

The eggplant’s branching and flowering potential were inferior to those of the cherry tomatoes. Technically, pinching wasn’t necessary, but considering seed viability and soil/fertilizer issues, he planned to manage this batch carefully.

Most plants weren’t yet at the stage requiring pinching.

“That scared the crap out of me! I thought he was going to…”

“Don’t jinx it.”

“Will those strawberries really survive? They only have four or five leaves left…”

“Do we really have to pinch them? I think leaving them would be fine.”

“Yeah, shouldn’t more leaves be better for fruit growth?”

Seeing Tong Zhanyan spare the eggplants, the crowd in the comment stream collectively breathed a sigh of relief.

They barely caught their breath before Tong Zhanyan, having finished inspecting the eggplants, headed straight for the cherry tomatoes.

“I have a bad feeling about this…”

“Seriously? Again?”

“This way they’ll bear fruit, this way they’ll bear fruit… I’ll chant it a hundred times a day.”

“Why does this still feel sketchy? Is that picture really not photoshopped?”

Some of the cherry tomatoes were indeed ready for pinching. As Tong Zhanyan moved around, he casually pinched off the ones that could be taken.

He also stripped the lower leaves from the cherry tomato plants from which he was pinching off side shoots.

After one round, he held a large handful of leaves and branches.

“Pfft, I’m spitting blood…”

“My poor little tomatoes.”

“Devil, he must be a devil.”

“They look so ugly after pinching…”

Tong Zhanyan didn’t waste a single leaf, tossing them all into a bucket.

As for the cucumbers, Tong Zhanyan left them untouched for now, planning to pinch them back when he set up the trellis.

After finishing these tasks, Tong Zhanyan glanced around. He dug out a slightly frayed small brush from the tool shed and walked over to the cherry radishes and bok choy he was saving for seeds.

Their flowers were fully open, ready for pollination.

The greenhouse had fans, but they couldn’t compare to natural breezes, and there were also insects outside to help.

With so many seedlings for seed saving this time, Tong Zhanyan took a while to finish pollinating all the flowers.

As he wrapped up, he didn’t forget to pat each flower cluster again to ensure nothing was missed.

Witnessing this scene, the audience—who had only just calmed down from the shock of the earlier leaf-pinching—felt their blood boil anew.

“???”

“Wait, you’re pollinating them, right? Why are you hitting them?”

“Why are you getting physical now?”

“Aren’t you afraid of knocking the flowers off? Flower buds are fragile, aren’t they…”

“Calm down, calm down. Look at those seedlings—the streamer growing them this well is proof enough.”

In the group chat.

“This batch of viewers is hopeless. They’re all over the place.”

“Exactly.”

“Hahaha…”

Watching the audience’s startled reactions in the chat, Yang Hong and his group couldn’t help but find it amusing.

Though they’d been startled when Senior Da Liu suddenly started handling the strawberries, they’d built up some resilience. After the initial shock and heartache, they quickly recovered.

Many of the current viewers had only recently joined the stream. Even though most had seen the screenshot of the previous batch of cherry tomatoes, and even though the exceptionally healthy seedlings were right before their eyes in the greenhouse, they still couldn’t help but doubt.

After all, the idea that damaging the seedlings would actually make them grow better was truly counterintuitive.

As for their own embarrassing pasts, the group tacitly agreed not to mention them.

While everyone debated, Tong Zhanyan had already grabbed a hoe and headed toward the plot opposite the tool shed—the patch by the wall where he’d previously grown bok choy. He planned to till about two square meters for breeding.

Besides composting, his chicken coop was also ready. Once the bok choy and cherry radish seeds were ripe, he intended to plant them immediately.

Land was already scarce; carving out another two square meters would make it even tighter.

But breeding was crucial too…

The cherry radishes had a total growth period of only about a month. He’d only loosened the soil once before planting them, so logically it should still be soft. Yet, as the hoe dug in, he could clearly feel resistance, and the soil he pulled up was mostly clumpy.

As he dug, Tong Zhanyan glanced at the composting soil piled along the greenhouse edge, wondering if it would be ready in time for sowing.

After turning the soil, Tong Zhanyan inspected the sweet potato.

It still hadn’t sprouted.

Nearly three weeks had passed since planting, and Tong Zhanyan had all but given up hope.

What a waste of his 170,000 credits—enough to cover several years of living expenses if spent on daily necessities.

After lamenting the loss, Tong Zhanyan watered the corn plant.

After that, Tong Zhanyan retrieved the flowerpot he’d used for the cherry tomatoes earlier and repotted the orange and tangerine saplings he’d planted.

These two were perennial trees. Even after over two months, they were only about twenty centimeters tall.

Tong Zhanyan rarely paid them much attention, only watering them when he remembered.

After repotting, Tong Zhanyan tossed them back into the corner.

“What are those? Trees?”

“They don’t look like crops.”

“Must be some kind of tree. I noticed them a month ago, and they’re still this tiny after a month. Only trees grow that slowly.”

“Why grow trees in a greenhouse?”

The comment section erupted with question marks.

Behind the screen, Old Xu—who had barely regained his composure—recognized those plants instantly.

“He actually has that stuff too,” Old Xu murmured in astonishment.

The seeds for those oranges and tangerines were from the previous batch. Because they grew so incredibly slowly, almost no one managed to keep them alive back then, and they disappeared from the market early on.

Even within the Planting Alliance, only he had a dozen or so left.

Back then, he himself had cultivated over a hundred trees.

Master Xu suddenly thought of Qing Jiyue, for he had given half the fruit from those dozen trees to him.

“Do you know this person’s real name?” Master Xu asked.

“This…” Gu Yunyang hesitated.

“Have someone investigate immediately,” Master Xu ordered.

Gu Yunyang hesitated, words caught in his throat.

Old Xu looked at him. “What is it?”

Gu Yunyang’s heartbeat quickened involuntarily. “What… what do you plan to do?”

Old Xu instantly grasped Gu Yunyang’s meaning.

This Senior Da Liu truly possessed genuine skill—the crops in his livestream were proof enough.

They had spent over fifty years failing to crack the cultivation barrier. Now, someone had finally pried open the door, offering them hope. The stakes involved…

Even Old Xu fell silent at that moment.

After a long pause, Old Xu spoke. “All I can say is, if he chooses our Cultivation Alliance, I’ll protect him with every ounce of strength left in these old bones.”

That was precisely what Gu Yunyang wanted to hear. Yet he also detected the resignation in Old Xu’s voice, and the excitement that had just begun to stir within him sank back down.

At this stage, it was no longer something any single person could decide.

“…” Gu Yunyang’s lips parted repeatedly, his naturally hanging hands clenching so tightly they ached.

“Send me the name of his livestream channel.” Old Xu rose to his feet.

“Right away.” Gu Yunyang began operating his terminal as he spoke.

“Old Wang probably doesn’t know yet…” Old Xu hurried toward the door, whether to study methods for pinching buds and leaves to prevent flower drop or to seek out “Old Wang” himself was unclear.

Gu Yunyang’s lips twitched. The next moment, he hurriedly sent a communication request to the First Branch.

“Old Wang” was the head of the First Branch, another patriarch of their cultivation alliance whose abilities and knowledge rivaled Old Xu’s. Due to years of immense pressure and advancing age, he had long suffered from respiratory issues.

Given Senior Da Liu’s reckless ways, Old Wang could end up in the hospital any minute without someone keeping an eye on him.

Minutes later, when Gu Yunyang ended the call and turned back, Shen Ye and Tang Xin were both looking at him with worried expressions.

Gu Yunyang took a deep breath, his words seeming directed at both of them yet also at himself: “Our Planting Alliance will protect him.”

At the School, in the dormitories.

After dinner, Su Yanran unusually skipped extra training, and Tian Xinqing stayed in the room too.

Neither read nor played on their terminals; instead, they faced each other in silence.

They had been watching Tong Zhanyan’s livestream. Lately, as his fanbase grew, the comment section frequently saw people trying to dig up Tong Zhanyan’s real background.

Because they knew Tong Zhanyan personally, they were especially sensitive to this, and it made them aware of the undercurrents stirring behind the scenes.

“Should we tell Qing Jiyue about the planting base? Tong Zhanyan seems reluctant for him to know.” After a long moment, Tian Xinqing spoke up.

“What difference does it make either way?”

Tian Xinqing thought about Tong Zhanyan’s livestream, which was already approaching a million viewers, and couldn’t help but smile bitterly. Tong Zhanyan sure knew how to stir things up.

They had originally thought Tong Zhanyan was just a bit better at farming than others.

“Hmm…” Tian Xinqing leaned back, then buried his face in his hands and rubbed them. His head was pounding.

“What about your family?” Su Yanran asked.

“My family isn’t something I can decide,” Tian Xinqing stared at the ceiling. “And even if I could convince my dad, given the current situation, how long do you think my family could protect him?”

Su Yanran remained silent.

He didn’t know the specifics of Tian Xinqing’s family situation, but he knew they couldn’t possibly stand up to forces like the Cultivation Alliance or the Four Great Families.

Tian Xinqing sat up. “Qing Jiyue seems decent. The Qing Family might be a good choice. I’ll talk to my dad about getting him some help…”

Su Yanran gave a wry smile. “Truth is, it doesn’t matter which one you pick. Whichever you choose, the others will be unhappy. That’s the real problem.”

Tian Xinqing scratched his head again. “But we have to choose one.”

This time, Su Yanran couldn’t find the words to respond.

“Knock knock.”

Just as Tian Xinqing was about to lie back down, a sudden knock sounded at the door.

The two exchanged a glance, their scalps tingling with unease.

Su Yanran got up to answer it.

Sure enough, it was Qing Jiyue standing outside.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

By the time Tong Zhanyan finished repotting the orange seedlings, the seeds he’d initially soaked had been in water for four hours.

He used disposable cups to plant them all, then covered them with plastic wrap.

Before leaving, Tong Zhanyan checked the previously decomposed soil. It wouldn’t be usable for a while yet, but the condition was decent.

Tong Zhanyan glanced at his terminal.

It was nearly eleven o’clock.

Green Shade had sent him another message.

This time, the other party cut straight to the chase, sincerely laying out the terms: a business partnership where he’d take 60% of the profits and Green Shade 40%.

Tong Zhanyan closed it without finishing.

The dorm lights were already off, though it wasn’t too late yet.

Considering Devil King’s class was tomorrow morning, Tong Zhanyan decided to head back to campus.

The overly spacious playground stood deserted, its empty windows against the darkened classroom buildings lending the scene a ghost story vibe.

Tong Zhanyan had initially felt uneasy walking at night, but frequent trips had made him accustomed to it.

Climbing the stairs, Tong Zhanyan opened his door as quietly as possible.

The door swung open, and he met a pair of eyes.

Qing Jiyue hadn’t slept; he sat on the edge of his bed, looking at Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan closed the door. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Tong Zhanyan walked toward his own bunk.

“Can we talk?”

Tong Zhanyan’s footsteps halted for a moment.

The next instant, he sighed silently and turned back. “Talk about what?”

Qing Jiyue had a pleasant personality, and Tong Zhanyan actually liked him. If possible, he’d rather not have to deal with Qing Jiyue in this matter.

“What do you want?” Qing Jiyue looked straight into Tong Zhanyan’s eyes.

Tong Zhanyan pulled out a stool and sat down. “I don’t want anything.”

Qing Jiyue’s brows furrowed slightly.

Tong Zhanyan said, “I’m just an ordinary person. I don’t come from a prominent family, nor do I have a Spirit Beast like yours. I don’t want to get involved in all that scheming. I just want to live my own life peacefully.”

He had already steeled himself mentally. He would do his best to navigate the situation, trying to keep those people in check against each other, though he knew it wouldn’t be easy.

The moonlight was bright, the night still.

Tong Zhanyan’s brows drew together, his eyes reflecting faint resignation and bitterness.

Tong Zhanyan had always been a man of strong convictions, someone who, once he made up his mind, possessed remarkable patience and perseverance. This was the first time Qing Jiyue had ever seen such an expression on his face.

It made Qing Jiyue unconsciously clench the hand resting on his lap.

He had originally planned to apply for a single dorm room, but then he unexpectedly saw the tomato plants Tong Zhanyan had planted on the balcony.

At that moment, he’d merely thought it might be okay to stay for now. Yet after that, he never once considered moving out. Because under Tong Zhanyan’s meticulous care, those tomato plants thrived remarkably well, even bearing quite a few fruits.

Back then, he’d had a feeling—a sense that while Tong Zhanyan’s methods were odd, everything just felt right.

Later, the batch of small tomatoes in the training room proved this point.

But at that time, Tong Zhanyan was really only at the level of being fairly good at growing them.

He’d been to the Planting Alliance; Old Xu could also grow plants to that standard.

Master Xu had long tried teaching others, yet few could replicate his results.

That level of skill couldn’t change anything.

What truly convinced him that Tong Zhanyan might alter everything was this time.

Each batch of cherry tomatoes grew better than the last, with multiple seed varieties showing high germination rates and vigorous growth…

If Tong Zhanyan cultivated seeds with low infection rates, and if low-infection fruits and vegetables could be harvested in large quantities, then perhaps more effective medicine could be developed. His father and grandfather might not have had to die.

Even if a complete cure wasn’t possible, buying more time would be beneficial.

After waiting a long while for Qing Jiyue to continue, Tong Zhanyan spoke up: “If you simply want more vegetables and fruits, I can promise that, given the conditions, I’ll try my best to grow more. I won’t shut down the livestream either. I’ll share everything I know with you.”

Qing Jiyue remained silent.

After waiting a while longer with no response, Tong Zhanyan got up to wash up.

When he returned after finishing his chores, Qing Jiyue remained seated exactly as before, not even a strand of hair on his shoulder having moved.

Tong Zhanyan headed toward his own bed. Training by day and farming by night had left him exhausted.

“Plant as much as you can… How much can you handle? Hundreds of acres?” Qing Jiyue’s voice suddenly reached him.

Tong Zhanyan continued making his bed. “I can.”

“What about seeds with low infection rates?”

Tong Zhanyan sat down beside the bed. “I can.”

Tong Zhanyan felt he’d said too much.

The more he spoke at times like this, the more disadvantageous it became for him. These words could all become swords turned against him in the future.

“All seeds?”

Because it was Qing Jiyue, Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but speak up. “Most of them, I suppose.”

He wasn’t arrogant enough to guarantee he could grow every crop to life. Farming was simple, yet not that simple.

Tong Zhanyan sat on the bed, preparing to lie down.

“Alright, I’ll help you.”

Tong Zhanyan’s motion to lie down halted. He looked up.

Across from him, Qing Jiyue stared straight at him, his eyes gleaming with a sharpness that even darkness couldn’t obscure. “You don’t want to choose? Then don’t choose. You don’t want to be bound? Then I’ll shield you from those who seek to bind you. You want to be yourself? Then I’ll build walls around you that no one can breach.”

Under the gaze of those eyes, amidst those resolute words, Tong Zhanyan’s mind went blank for an instant.

His heartbeat accelerated involuntarily, as if it were desperate to leap from his chest.

“I can do all this for you. Beyond that, could you do me one favor?” Qing Jiyue’s tone held an unprecedented pleading, making his voice crack with a hint of tears. “You know so much—could you help me figure something out? My father and my grandfather… they’re dying…”

He wasn’t afraid to shoulder responsibility, nor to stand at the front lines of battle. But he feared turning around one day to find he was the only one left.

Hearing that tremor, Tong Zhanyan’s hand gripping the blanket tightened involuntarily. Then, at some point, it slowly relaxed, as if releasing the blood that had stopped flowing within him.

Tong Zhanyan avoided Qing Jiyue’s intensely piercing gaze and lay down. “I’ll try.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Tong Zhanyan smiled bitterly.

Having witnessed the struggles of this world and its people, he didn’t resent being able to lend a hand. But many things weren’t simply a matter of will.

A movement came from across the room as Qing Jiyue also lay down on the bed.

Silence quickly settled over the room.

Tong Zhanyan’s eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.

His heart still pounded fiercely, his mind filled with the image of Qing Jiyue’s eyes staring straight at him.

Those eyes were resilient and sharp, as if no matter how dire the situation ahead—even if it meant shattering into pieces—he could still hack a bloody path through it for himself.

Feeling his heart accelerate once more, Tong Zhanyan closed his eyes and rolled onto his side.

Qing Jiyue had a fiancé, and he was a man.

Staying up late had left Tong Zhanyan feeling groggy when he stepped onto the field the next morning.

His dazed state made Devil King Wang’s expression shift strangely, as if he wanted to charge over and beat him senseless but was forcing himself to hold back.

When had Devil King Wang ever held back when he wanted to punish someone?

“Twenty kilometers,” the Devil King declared.

They usually ran ten kilometers. Today’s sudden doubling of the distance didn’t prompt a single complaint from the entire class—not even a flicker of discontent.

Turning, the group sprinted toward the track.

“Tong Zhanyan.”

Tong Zhanyan, about to follow, froze, his scalp tingling.

Had the Devil King decided to stop holding back and beat him directly?

Staring at the person clearly zoning out before him, Wang Yanzhou’s forehead veins bulged, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

He was too strict—so strict it bordered on harsh. Yuan Yuepeng and the others had told him this before, more than once.

He hadn’t changed.

He knew he wasn’t popular among the students. Even though they understood he meant well, their dislike for him was genuine.

Yet among everyone, only Tong Zhanyan—though he feared him and sometimes wished he could kill him—never showed hatred in his eyes.

That had led him to believe Tong Zhanyan was simply thick-skinned, unafraid of scalding water.

Yet Tong Zhanyan never slacked off in training.

Though his grades consistently ranked at the bottom of the class—he hadn’t even mastered fusion by the semester’s end—he truly never shirked his duties.

He actually rather liked Tong Zhanyan.

When he saw Tong Zhanyan give up, his feelings were complicated. Coming from the outer city himself, he knew exactly what life there was like.

That night, after deciding to resign, he spotted Tong Zhanyan at the school gate and couldn’t resist saying a few more words.

Then, turning his head, he saw Tong Zhanyan appear in the livestream.

Wang Yanzhou took a deep breath.

He grasped Tong Zhanyan’s plan almost instantly, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to strangle him. A military academy cadet going to the farm?

And he was pinching those strawberries, stripping them bare in minutes…

“Teacher Wang?” Tong Zhanyan looked utterly bewildered.

“Run five extra kilometers. Fail to complete it, and tomorrow’s distance doubles.” Wang Yanzhou took another deep breath. Apparently, his training regimen was too lenient, leaving Tong Zhanyan with energy to cause trouble elsewhere.

“Five kilometers…” Tong Zhanyan looked utterly devastated.

“Is there a problem?” Wang Yanzhou narrowed his eyes dangerously.

“No…” Tong Zhanyan staggered onto the track, already questioning his life before he even started running.

Wang Yanzhou pinched the bridge of his nose.

Even without paying much attention to cultivation, he could tell how well Tong Zhanyan’s crops were doing in his livestream.

Did Tong Zhanyan realize the trouble he’d caused by creating something like that?

After massaging his temples, Wang Yanzhou turned toward the academic affairs office. He needed to speak with Chu Yi immediately.

His students could die on the battlefield or pass away peacefully in their beds. But they absolutely could not die elsewhere—and certainly not under mysterious circumstances.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

At noon, when Tong Zhanyan was being escorted back to the dorm by Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran on either side, Qing Jiyue was packing his backpack, looking as if he intended to leave the school for a while.

“Are you going home?” Tian Xinqing asked.

“Did something happen?” Su Yanran wondered, having seen no news of trouble at the Qing Family’s end.

“Nothing, just going back to check on things.” Qing Jiyue slung his backpack over his shoulder and picked up his silver-white spear.

Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran said nothing more.

Qing Jiyue headed toward the door.

Just before stepping out, he looked past Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran toward Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan was looking right at him.

The moment their eyes met, last night’s scenes instantly flooded back, and Tong Zhanyan’s breath caught.

“I’m leaving.”

“Goodbye.” Tong Zhanyan waved.

Was Qing Jiyue serious?

Did he even know what he was doing?

Even as the future Qing Family Head, even if the entire Qing Family obeyed him, he was still just one person.

“I’ll go get food,” Tian Xinqing offered.

“If I fall asleep, just put it on the table,” Tong Zhanyan said, collapsing onto the bed without even bothering to shower. He simply couldn’t hold on any longer.

He truly couldn’t hold on. When he opened his eyes again, two hours had passed, and the class bell was about to ring.

Tong Zhanyan struggled to get up quickly.

That night, he didn’t go to the greenhouse.

For the next two days, Devil King’s classes consisted solely of running drills. After assigning tasks, he vanished, leaving many to speculate if something had happened on the front lines.

Tong Zhanyan felt a bit tense.

The sudden addition of five kilometers, the complicated looks directed at him—had the school discovered what he’d done?

Friday night.

Tong Zhanyan first returned to the dormitory before heading toward the school gate.

As he approached the exit, a group of upperclassmen emerged from the parcel collection room on the right.

Tong Zhanyan instantly recognized them as the group from the cafeteria that day.

“…Did you see those strawberries? They’re growing so fast—new leaves already sprouting after just a few days.”

“It really is incredible.”

“I see tons of people discussing it online.”

“I really want to meet that sixth-year senior. What kind of person is he?”

“Seems like a lot of people are trying to find out about him.”

Tong Zhanyan passed them by.

Night fell, and the streetlights by the school gate lit up.

Dai Shuda suddenly turned his head.

“What’s wrong?” The other two students beside him turned to look as well.

While first-years were going crazy with extra training during this period, third-years had just finished a grueling two-week training session and were enjoying a rare break. The school gate bustled with people coming and going.

“I think I just saw…” Dai Shuda felt he must have been seeing things. “Never mind, let’s go.”

How could Senior Da Liu be at their school?

“Come to think of it, why sixth year? Most schools only have four years, right?”

“Maybe he repeated a year?”

“Why would he repeat? And for two whole years? That’s just awful…”

Entering the room, he activated the light screen above the camera. Tong Zhanyan immediately spotted the question, nearly making him spit out a mouthful of blood.

“Today we’re… pinching back the leaves.” Tong Zhanyan walked toward the strawberry plants with a forced smile.

Two weeks after transplanting, several crops had fully entered the stage of differentiating branches and flower buds.

With so many plants this time, the seedlings varied in condition, making it difficult to synchronize timing. They could only pinch back more frequently as needed.

“Why do I feel like he’s pruning with extra vigor today? It’s like he’s wringing someone’s neck…”

“Isn’t he always like that?”

“No, today he seems especially resentful.”

“Honestly, you’d never guess he repeated a grade…”

“It might not be repeating. Could be someone surnamed Liu or something.”

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Planting Alliance Branch One.

Five minutes prior.

“You’re already following him. Click here to view…”

“Mhm, got it.”

Old Wang nodded with satisfaction as the familiar livestream window popped up before him.

The livestream scene remained unchanged from the past two days: nothing but crops covering the ground and piles of pots and buckets.

Yet even so, it remained an exceptionally pleasing sight, for every single crop was thriving.

“What is it? Anything else?” After staring at the crops for a moment, Old Wang tilted his head in confusion toward the person still beside him.

“Well…” Tao Zhengping hesitated, unsure how to explain.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to be as pathetic as that Xu fellow,” Old Wang chuckled. “So what if he pinches leaves? As long as he can grow the crops well, I can accept it.”

“Should I put the respirator here?”

“No need.” Old Wang frowned.

He’d never liked the thing—it constantly reminded him he was old.

Both his children had died from frenzy, not even forty when they passed. If he grew too old, what would happen to the crops? What about those infected with frenzy?

Tao Zhengping hesitated a moment before conceding, “Alright then. I’ll go handle things first and come back later.”

His cultivation room was right next door, so coming over wouldn’t take long. At worst, he’d just have to make more frequent trips.

Besides, that Senior Da Liu hadn’t shown up for days. A little delay wouldn’t hurt.

With that thought, Tao Zhengping left.

A figure suddenly materialized.

“Oh?” Old Wang instantly perked up.

“We’re pinching leaves today.”

Watching the person on the screen approach the strawberries, Old Wang took a deep breath and focused more intently.

A couple of days ago, Xu Cheng had suddenly sent him a communication request, then mysteriously told him about this livestream, insisting he must watch it.

He’d never been interested in livestreams, but Xu Cheng was being so secretive that he’d asked Tao Zhengping, the researcher he was mentoring, to help track it down and take a look.

The moment he saw it, he was stunned. The crops looked exceptionally healthy—so healthy that his first thought was growth hormone.

But he quickly regained his composure. If it were growth hormone, Xu Cheng would have been ranting and raving by now, not mysteriously inviting him to watch.

Zooming in, the person on screen fiddled with the strawberries in front of them before grabbing an outer, older leaf and pulling it off.

His technique was exceptionally skilled, without a hint of hesitation.

Old Wang took a deep breath.

Tao Zhengping had already explained leaf pinching to him and shown him a screenshot of a tomato with pinched leaves. He had also seen strawberries with pinched leaves in the livestream, but watching it now still made him frown.

Many leaves he considered still young had been removed.

Even if it was to stimulate growth, there was no need to be so aggressive…

In just two or three days, only about ten extra strawberry plants were ready for pinching, and the person on screen finished in no time.

“The small tomatoes can be pinched too…” The person on screen moved toward the small tomato plants.

Old Wang shifted his sitting position and took another deep breath.

As long as they grow well.

“For eggplants, leave branches based on their condition. If they’re thriving, leave more; if they’re struggling, two branches are enough. This batch of mine is growing just okay…”

Old Wang’s mouth opened slightly, feeling a bit breathless.

They hadn’t even bloomed yet, but they were already taller than his knees. The stems were nearly as thick as his little finger, and the branches were sprouting in clusters. This was average growth?

If this were average, then what about the ones in his greenhouse that were bearing fruit but still only knee-high?

“Snip, snip…”

Old Wang shifted his stance again.

Minutes later, the man in the frame paused. He walked toward the tool shed, tossing a handful of leafy flower buds into a bucket.

This time, however, he didn’t immediately cover the bucket. Instead, he lifted the lid to look inside.

There was…

Murky liquid, semi-translucent white vegetable chunks floating, lush green leaves…

Cherry radishes and bok choy?

Old Wang pulled the keyboard toward him and typed slowly, “Why are there so many cherry radishes and bok choy in the bucket?”

He didn’t surf the web much, but he often typed to keep records. He just didn’t know why his hands were trembling a bit as he typed today.

“You don’t know? Do you live deep in the mountains?”

“They said it was for composting. They chopped up a bunch of ripe cherry radishes and bok choy and tossed them into the barrel. It’s been days now, probably all gone bad…”

“Just thinking about it breaks my heart. Over a hundred of them! Cherry radishes as big as walnuts, chopped to bits. “

”And don’t forget the bok choy! Each head weighed at least forty grams—I’ve never seen such perfect bok choy…“

”Heartache +1″

Old Wang steadied his trembling hand and reached for the emergency button beside the terminal, pressing it down.

Tao Zhengping’s anxious voice immediately crackled through the terminal, “Old Wang? Are you okay? I’ll be right there.”

“I’m fine…”

Hearing his voice, Tao Zhengping visibly relaxed, his speech slowing. “Is there anything you need?”

“The respirator…” Old Wang paused. “Why don’t you bring it in so I can take a couple of breaths?”