For sale?

They’re classified as protected animals—shouldn’t they be under strict protection? Why are they willing to sell them just because I asked?

Just as Tong Zhanyan was puzzled, Qing Jiyue explained, “They didn’t want to sell them at first, but when I mentioned that you wanted them, they changed their minds. However, they’d like to discuss the details in person. Let’s go meet them.”

Tong Zhanyan hesitated. Lately, he’d been extremely cautious whenever he left the base, let alone when the other party specifically asked him to come over.

“They’d like to discuss the care of those bees and ants with you in person,” Qing Jiyue sensed Tong Zhanyan’s hesitation. “I can go with you.”

So it’s not that they have some ulterior motive against him, but rather they’re worried he won’t be able to care for those bees and ants properly?

Tong Zhanyan felt both exasperated and amused.

But that actually made sense—after all, they were now protected species.

“Alright, I’m free in the next few days,” Tong Zhanyan said.

“How about tomorrow?” Qing Jiyue asked.

“Sure.”

After setting the schedule and exchanging a few more words, Qing Jiyue went to make the arrangements.

The other party’s location was quite far from his, so a round trip in a single day wasn’t possible.

Tong Zhanyan got up to check on the fields and later gave Ning Langdong instructions on feeding the chickens and pigs, as well as which crops could be harvested to feed Yang Hong and the others.

Without Ning Langdong, he wouldn’t have been able to go.

The next day, Qing Jiyue arrived early to pick him up.

Car, plane, car—thanks to advanced technology, the process had been streamlined, and the journey was quite fast, but it was still past 1:00 PM by the time they arrived.

An old city district, in a rather remote corner—buildings and gates steeped in the passage of time, along with a sign for the “Paleontological Research Institute” so rusted it was barely legible…

Tong Zhanyan felt an urge to turn around and leave.

Was this definitely not some kind of scam operation?

Qing Jiyue had contacted the people inside shortly before they arrived.

This area was apparently rarely visited; as soon as they got out of the car, three people came to greet them.

All three were quite elderly; the youngest was probably in his fifties.

The trio was very enthusiastic, leading them inside while introducing the institute.

The situation was much as Tong Zhanyan had gathered from the website: they primarily focused on protecting species that had become scarce due to the Great Catastrophe.

To Tong Zhanyan’s pleasant surprise, in addition to bees and ants, they actually had several other beneficial insects, such as ladybugs, dung beetles, and dragonflies.

There were also quite a few pests.

The entire institute had fewer than two hundred people in total, and there were virtually no young people—only elderly individuals over fifty.

The institute’s financial straits were evident.

Never mind the dilapidated gates and buildings; even the chairs and equipment inside were clearly well-worn, and some wall corners were peeling.

They enthusiastically took Tong Zhanyan to see their cultivation room—a row of over forty glass-walled structures, each about ten square meters in size, with yellowed glass.

Inside the glass houses, the environment was designed to simulate the temperature and climate of ancient times as closely as possible, and there was a small, pitiful-looking collection of insects.

With strange beasts outside and frenzy within, most people simply didn’t have the energy or inclination to care for these insects, so maintaining them was quite a struggle.

They didn’t want Tong Zhanyan’s money; on the contrary, they were willing to give him some insects for free, as long as he allowed them to visit periodically to check on the situation and record data.

“These little guys used to be herbivores, but they were basically wiped out after the Great Cataclysm. It took us many years to collect these.”

“We’ve tried feeding them crops, but…”

“We’ve all seen your livestreams. If you’re willing to raise them, that would be ideal.”

“We understand the rules. Once they’re inside your facility, you’re in charge—we won’t interfere.”

“We just want some data to see if we can be of any help.”

It was clear the group was genuinely delighted he’d come. The institute’s director—an elderly man nearing seventy—had a face and neck flushed a deep, liver-like red.

Under his gaze, Tong Zhanyan felt a bit uneasy for a moment.

To most people, protecting these creatures when they themselves were barely surviving was a joke, and the institute was indeed struggling to stay afloat.

But even so, they persisted.

Since collecting data wouldn’t hurt him, Tong Zhanyan agreed readily.

However, after getting the full picture, Tong Zhanyan hesitated about whether to keep them.

Even with the institute’s best efforts to protect them, the infection rates among the bees and ants had already exceeded safe levels due to food shortages.

The infection rate for ants ranged from 55% to 60%, while that for bees was between 60% and 65%.

Once the infection rate in living organisms exceeds 80%, there is a probability that they will mutate directly into monstrous beasts. They were still far from a complete mutation, but they were already dangerous—a threat to crops.

Generally, organisms with a high infection rate won’t cause cross-contamination unless ingested directly. The research institute staff assured him they wouldn’t contaminate the crops, but Tong Zhanyan still had some reservations.

Especially with the bees—if he raised them, they would inevitably come into contact with the crops, and specifically with the flowers.

If they were just ordinary crops, it wouldn’t matter, but some of those crops contained reduced-infection-rate strains.

Yang Hong and the others were still waiting to eat them.

That evening, Tong Zhanyan and Qing Jiyue found a nearby hotel to stay at.

Throughout the night, Tong Zhanyan kept mulling over the matter.

The next day, he gave his reply: he would raise both the bees and the ants, but he needed to go back first to make some arrangements.

Putting them directly into the base was too risky, so he planned to test them first; if it worked, he’d release them; if not, he’d abandon the idea.

Coincidentally, the cherry radishes and bok choy he’d been pulling up to feed the pigs and chickens had already matured and would soon bloom.

Cherry radishes and bok choy don’t bear fruit, but they do produce seeds.

Tong Zhanyan planned to test the seeds when the time came.

The ants, however, were a bit more of a hassle.

If he put them directly into the ground, he’d likely never find them again.

Tong Zhanyan planned to build a greenhouse and plant some more crops, observing them for a month or two.

After all, he had plenty of cherry radish and bok choy seeds, and since both had fast growth cycles, a little over a month would be enough for a full round of testing.

He hadn’t slept well last night, and Tong Zhanyan was dozing off the whole way back.

By evening, when he finally arrived at the base, he headed straight for the second floor to catch up on some sleep.

Qing Jiyue looked at the Spirit Beast he’d just secretly summoned, and the Beast looked back at him.

Qing Jiyue silently went to the back.

He slept until he woke up naturally. Early the next morning, Tong Zhanyan contacted Mr. Bai to ask about the greenhouse.

Mr. Bai agreed to look into it.

While waiting, Tong Zhanyan opened the Paleontology Research Institute’s website—which looked decidedly outdated—scrolled all the way to the bottom, found the donation button, and transferred three million credits.

Mr. Bai replied quickly—he’d found someone.

Tong Zhanyan immediately scheduled an on-site survey for that afternoon.

If possible, he hoped to get it up and running as soon as possible.

A group of five or six people arrived. Some took measurements, some discussed details with Tong Zhanyan, and others—clearly there just for him—stood beside him for a long while after entering, too excited to speak.

In this world, a greenhouse is essentially a giant box; the underground section is isolated from the surrounding soil, which is why a groundwater system is essential.

Since the base didn’t need to worry about soil contamination, Tong Zhanyan decided to skip the groundwater system for the strawberry greenhouse altogether, opting instead to simply build a glass structure on top.

Of course, the climate control system, lighting rigs, and ventilation system were still necessary.

Aside from the strawberries, for the ant testing greenhouse, Tong Zhanyan still opted for a foundation, but considering it would be dismantled later, he also skipped the underground water system.

Cherry radishes, bok choy, and other vegetables are hardy; growing them for just one cycle shouldn’t be a problem.

The estimate came back quickly; since omitting the underground water system made it much cheaper, but the two combined still came to nearly three million.

Tong Zhanyan made the down payment that very day.

As for the beehives, Tong Zhanyan didn’t have the contractors come over; instead, he bought some poles and plastic sheeting online and planned to build a hive directly around the cherry radishes and bok choy he was currently harvesting to feed the pigs and chickens.

The next day, the contracting company arrived with over a hundred workers to start digging the pits.

Tong Zhanyan personally supervised the work.

As for the soil in the strawberry greenhouse, Tong Zhanyan planned to replace all of it with humus.

For the other greenhouse where he was testing the ants, he mixed in only a small amount of humus at first, just enough to ensure the seedlings would survive.

With Ning Langdong and the others around, although he didn’t have an endless supply of humus, he had more than enough.

With so many people, plus the help of the Spirit Beasts, the pits were dug in just one day.

The rest of the materials took two days to arrive, as they had to be shipped from the company.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t sit idle; while waiting, he soaked the strawberry seeds.

After the greenhouse materials arrived, it took about a week to assemble them.

During that time, Tong Zhanyan planted the strawberry seeds in pots.

He wasn’t in a hurry with the cherry radishes and bok choy; they were still far from flowering, and there were plenty left. He planned to pull some more to feed the pigs and chickens and use them for compost.

In addition, he also needed to select a portion for marking and early infection rate testing, to facilitate comparison with later stages.

After planting the strawberries, Tong Zhanyan applied fertilizer to the other crops.

With the seedlings from the previous batch of cherry tomatoes and cucumbers, plus the chicken manure, he now had over forty barrels of fertilizer—an unprecedented abundance compared to the past.

However, he now had an unprecedented amount of land as well.

That fertilizer still wasn’t enough.

So fertilizing still had to be done manually, and he had to measure out the exact amount for each plant.

Eight mu of land—two people simply couldn’t handle it all.

Tong Zhanyan went straight to call Yang Hong and the others for help.

When he arrived, he happened to catch the newcomers administering the medication for the first time.

The second group of people Qing Jiyue had arranged consisted of ten people in total: five to consume the crops and five to test the agents, with specific roles determined by drawing lots.

They were vials of yellow liquid, each about the size and length of a little finger, which simply needed to be injected into the body.

The effects of the agents wouldn’t be immediate, so after watching for a while, Tong Zhanyan took Yang Hong and the others and left.

With Yang Hong and the others helping out, efficiency improved significantly, but it still took two days.

A week later, by the time the greenhouse was assembled, the strawberries had already sprouted.

Tong Zhanyan waited another week—until the cherry radishes, and bok choy in the other plot were nearly ready for harvest and the plants in this plot began to produce flower stalks in large numbers—before erecting the plastic greenhouse.

The supplies had arrived long ago.

Each plot of cherry radishes and bok choy was about 100 square meters, and covering them wasn’t easy, as the plastic sheeting was quite heavy.

Tong Zhanyan and Ning Langdong spent most of the day struggling with it, and they barely managed to put together a crooked, transparent structure.

Tong Zhanyan was fine with it—as long as it worked.

Tong Zhanyan ran electrical wires inside and set up two fans.

Without air circulation, the crops would suffocate.

After finishing up here and while waiting for the plants to bloom, Tong Zhanyan turned his attention to the greenhouse with the sealed bottom.

Since the greenhouse has a roof, it blocks out the light from the base.

He had bought lights when he was growing crops in the rented greenhouse before, and had taken them with him when he left; now they came in handy.

After spending some time with Ning Langdong to install the lights, Tong Zhanyan prepared the soil and planted cherry radishes and bok choy.

That night, he bought some more lights to install in the greenhouse where he was growing strawberries.

He had built both of these greenhouses quite large—each was a full 600 square meters—so they required more lights.

By the time he finished setting up the greenhouses, the cherry radishes and bok choy in the plastic-covered structure had begun to flower one after another.

Tong Zhanyan selected a portion of them for marking and identification, then contacted the Conservation Research Institute.

Those people were watching his livestream; while the crowd in the chat room was bewildered, not knowing what he intended to do, they had already prepared the bees and ants to be delivered.

As soon as Tong Zhanyan contacted them, they immediately sent the supplies over.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t know how to raise bees or ants, so the researchers placed the bees and ants into the greenhouse and the plastic-covered shelter themselves.

The ant nest was buried directly into the ground.

The bees were housed in a wooden hive, and Tong Zhanyan provided a stool.

The numbers of both were far greater than he had expected, exceeding two hundred in each case.

After setting everything up, the group didn’t leave right away. Instead, they took samples of the soil and crops, and after repeatedly thanking him at length, they finally departed.

They figured out almost immediately what the sponsorship was all about.

Tong Zhanyan had been a huge help.

With that money, they could build a larger breeding facility. Their current facility was over twenty years old, and much of the equipment had been repaired time and time again.

Tong Zhanyan walked them to the gate.

Seeing the bees, the live-stream viewers—who had been curious about that plastic-covered structure for some time—finally understood.

“Why are the insects and crops kept together?”

“Are they trying to raise insects?”

“……After raising chickens and pigs, is the streamer planning to raise insects now?”

“Those are bees.”

“Bees?”

“What?”

“They’re beneficial insects that feed on nectar, produce honey, and pollinate crops.”

“Pollinate?”

“That means we can rely on them for pollination in the future, so we won’t need people to do it anymore.”

“Wait, rely on them for pollination? What about us?”

“If we have them, will pollination stop being a lottery prize in the future?”

“No way! I was actually hoping for a big harvest this time so more people could join the lottery…”

“Are we really no match for a bunch of bugs? Host, just look at us.”

…

The ants, having just been brought to a new place, hid in their nest and wouldn’t come out, while the bees reacted much more vigorously—as soon as their protective film was removed, they flew everywhere.

After Tong Zhanyan tossed some vegetable scraps meant for chickens to the ants, he left both groups alone and quietly walked away.

The research institute had previously tried feeding them crops with an infection rate exceeding 50%, and the people who came over had also brought some synthetic food, so Tong Zhanyan wasn’t worried they’d starve.

Half a month had passed; the seedlings in the field had long since gotten past the acclimatization phase, and now, in their growth phase, they were changing visibly day by day, gradually filling the bare ground with greenery.

This stage really needed fertilizer.

When Tong Zhanyan went to the small building in the back to call Yang Hong and the others, he took the opportunity to ask about the progress of the chemical agent tests.

It had only been a short time, so he couldn’t be too certain yet whether it was effective, but overall, the situation wasn’t ideal.

Of the ten subjects, one of the five that had been fed crops had entered a state of frenzy during the first two days after arrival, but had been fine since then.

However, among the five that had been given the chemical but not fed crops, three had entered a state of frenzy during this period, and one had remained in that state for an entire day.

Tong Zhanyan looked toward the cage where that subject was kept.

When it was just Yang Hong and the other four, the five cages were placed side by side in the open space to the left of the small building; once more people arrived, the cages were arranged in three neat rows.

That person was housed in the outermost row.

The cages were covered with cloth, and there was plenty of space between them, but Tong Zhanyan could still see scratch marks through the iron bars.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t go over; after exchanging a few more words, he led Yang Hong and the others back.

Eight mu of land—even when trying to conserve as much as possible, the liquid fertilizer still poured out like a burst dam. After applying the fertilizer, Tong Zhanyan was left with five empty buckets.

That broke his heart.

Once he’d gotten over the heartache, he immediately contacted Boss Bai and Qing Jiyue to buy some tangerines.

Qing Jiyue agreed to ask around, but Boss Bai flatly told him to forget it.

Tong Zhanyan hadn’t hidden the fact that the fertilizer was made from rotting tangerines and oranges—its potency far surpassed that of fertilizer made from other materials.

So over the past three or four months, seven or eight people—not counting Tong Zhanyan himself—had approached him, trying to get him to help buy some.

Even if someone actually had some, there was no way they’d sell at a time like this.

Hearing this, Tong Zhanyan nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.

Was this what they called shooting oneself in the foot?

Feeling frustrated, Tong Zhanyan had no choice but to go check on his own batch of orange saplings.

Since the roots had been pruned during planting, it had taken nearly twenty days for them to finally recover.

It would take at least three years for them to grow to maturity.

The more Tong Zhanyan looked, the more he felt like spitting blood, so he simply walked away to avoid the sight.

If only he could jump forward three years in an instant.

As he walked, Tong Zhanyan suddenly stopped in his tracks. If he couldn’t buy oranges, he could buy an orange tree.

It would take at least three more years for these saplings to bear fruit, but if he bought a two- or three-year-old orange tree and tended to it properly, it might even bear fruit in six months to a year.

Tong Zhanyan immediately pulled out his terminal and contacted Qing Jiyue and Boss Bai.

Crops are hard to grow to begin with, and this one is a perennial that basically bears fruit only once a year. Even knowing that the peel makes excellent fertilizer, there should still be people willing to sell them.

Qing Jiyue and Boss Bai both agreed to help ask around.

That night, the lights he’d ordered earlier were delivered.

The next day, he and Ning Langdong spent most of the morning installing them.

In the evening, Tong Zhanyan checked on the ants and bees.

Only a small colony of ants had been delivered, and Tong Zhanyan didn’t see any near the nest entrance, though the handful of vegetable scraps he’d tossed on the ground earlier was now reduced to just a few scattered pieces.

After watching for a while, Tong Zhanyan grabbed some more vegetable scraps and tossed them nearby.

The cherry radishes and bok choy in the adjacent plot had already sprouted.

The ants were easy to check on, but the bees were a different story.

Over the past few days, he’d seen the bees circling the flowers more than once, but whether they were actually feeding on nectar was hard to say.

Bees can survive for a month without eating or drinking.

Since it wasn’t visible from the outside, Tong Zhanyan had to change into a plastic protective suit and, with Ning Langdong’s help, go inside.

The greenhouse was about 100 square meters—a considerable space for him, but not for the bees.

As soon as he entered, quite a few bees came toward him.

Tong Zhanyan moved to the front of the hive and opened the lid.

Not many bees had been delivered; only a small portion were inside the hive. Tong Zhanyan tried to determine if there was much honey, but no matter how closely he looked, he couldn’t spot any difference.

Seeing that the bees were about to be thoroughly provoked, Tong Zhanyan had no choice but to leave immediately.

Perhaps because the infection rate was so high, the bees were quite aggressive.

On the third day, Tong Zhanyan and Ning Langdong went to school together.

Tian Xinqing, Su Yanran, and the others had just finished their second wilderness survival training session.

After not seeing each other for a while, both of them looked noticeably more muscular and tanned.

They had quite a lot to say about Ning Langdong’s decision to switch majors, especially Tian Xinqing, who seemed visibly tempted.

He had always been resistant to the idea of attending the Sidi Military Academy.

Tong Zhanyan simply watched in silence.

With Ning Langdong on board, Tong Zhanyan would accept Tian Xinqing if he was willing to come, but this was no small matter; Tian Xinqing had to think it through carefully himself.

Su Yanran could see what Tian Xinqing was thinking, but he also had his father to consider, so there were even more factors to weigh.

Since he had to feed the pigs and chickens at night, Tong Zhanyan headed back early.

The second batch of chickens he’d bought had long since molted, and now looked no different from the first batch; he estimated they’d start laying eggs soon.

There were fewer hens in the second batch, but altogether there were still about twenty.

Combined, the two batches totaled about forty-five hens.

Even if they laid only one egg every two or three days due to poor nutrition, this number should still allow him to collect about ten eggs a day.

That would basically cover his daily food expenses.

Nearly a month had passed, and whether the two piglets had gradually grown accustomed to him or simply given up, they hardly squealed at him anymore.

Over the course of the month, they’d also grown noticeably larger.

What delighted Tong Zhanyan most was the thin layer of liquid manure in the manure pit—a mixture of the water he’d used to wash the pigsty and urine.

Although it wasn’t fully decomposed yet and was unusable, just having it made Tong Zhanyan happy.

That night, Tong Zhanyan received a call from Green Shade for the first time in a long while.

They had finally agreed on a new reward.

Once the next batch of seeds was ready and the Alliance began selling them externally, they would give Tong Zhanyan a set of seeds with a 20% infection rate.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t have much regard for Green Shade, but there was no reason to refuse free seeds.

A week later, Tong Zhanyan transplanted the strawberry seedlings.

There weren’t many, so he and Ning Langdong finished the job in a single morning.

In the afternoon, the two of them installed lights in the greenhouse.

The lights had arrived long ago.

That night, Tong Zhanyan secretly gave the corn and pumpkins an extra dose of fertilizer.

Nearly a month had passed, and the corn was already nearly waist-high. With its thick stalks and large leaves, it stood out strikingly from a distance.

This was the third time they’d planted corn; after harvesting, it was already suitable for feeding chickens and pigs.

Aside from the corn, the pumpkins had also begun to vine outwards.

Although this was only the second time he’d grown pumpkins, since the seeds and flesh were separate, he’d still be able to harvest some from this batch.

Five days later, Tong Zhanyan called Yang Hong and the others over to fertilize the entire field once more.

Meanwhile, a very small number of the earliest-planted cherry tomatoes were beginning to show buds on their branches, and a few cucumbers had started to sprout vines.

Tong Zhanyan logged into the Green Shade backend for the first time in a while and began thinking about setting up trellises for the plants.

He planned to set up trellises not just for the cucumbers, but for the string beans as well.

It was a bit early to set up trellises at this stage, but he had planted too many this time around. He needed to spread them out as much as possible; otherwise, crowding them together would exhaust the plants.

Before that, he’d have to buy more trellises.

He’d bought a lot last time and still had some unused ones, but this batch was far larger than the last, and he’d also need them for the string beans and cherry tomatoes.

Tong Zhanyan had his trellises custom-made.

After confirming with the supplier that they could still make them, Tong Zhanyan placed his order.

While placing the order, he also bought four hundred boxes of various sizes.

He actually had plenty of boxes, but some crops required specialized ones—for example, cherry tomatoes, which couldn’t be crushed, so he needed special shallow boxes.

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t be bothered to calculate which crops needed which boxes or whether he had enough, so he simply bought a few extra of each.

After all, they wouldn’t go bad.

The boxes were in stock, and the supplier began shipping them out the very next day.

Since the racks had to be custom-made, they weren’t shipped until four days later.

As soon as the racks were shipped, Tong Zhanyan immediately launched a giveaway.

Three days later, the racks arrived.

Early on the fourth day, the giveaway winners were already at the door.

During free time—feeding the chickens, watching the pigs—most of the routine was the same as before. The difference was that this group took a particular interest in the ants and bees.

While watching the bees, Tong Zhanyan wondered if it was just his imagination, but they seemed to be looking at them as if they were enemies.

Since there were many racks to assemble this time, Tong Zhanyan selected thirty people.

They were divided into groups of three.

At first, they were overly nervous, constantly worrying about this and that, but after Tong Zhanyan praised them a few times, the group’s movements gradually became more efficient.

Seeing that the group was finally getting the hang of it, Tong Zhanyan was just about to go back to his own work when a growl—not particularly loud but filled with intense fury—echoed from another small building behind them.

Everyone’s attention was instantly drawn to it.

“Is someone fighting?”

“…Doesn’t that sound like frenzy?”

“It sounds like it’s inside the base?”

“Inside the base?”

The group looked at Tong Zhanyan with concern.

Those in frenzy have no reason; destruction is their instinct. If the aggressor came over here, they could run or even fight, but the crops would suffer.

Tong Zhanyan also looked toward the back door.

The distance between them was considerable; Tong Zhanyan hadn’t heard a single sound from that direction before. Had something gone wrong?

Tong Zhanyan stepped aside to contact Qing Jiyue.

A moment later, he returned. “There’s a fight outside. Don’t worry about it.”

The group exchanged glances.

The sound had clearly come from inside the base.

Seeing that Tong Zhanyan didn’t want to elaborate, the group said nothing more. They continued working while occasionally glancing back.

They would never let these crops come to harm.

The thing they feared never happened, even after all the racks were set up and darkness fell.

The noise hadn’t been heard since then either.

After distributing the gifts, Tong Zhanyan escorted everyone to the entrance. Once he saw the group leave, he immediately headed for the back door.

When he arrived, the area was in an uproar.

More precisely, a colossal beast in a fused state, confined within a cage, was relentlessly ramming against the bars, trying to break free.

Qing Jiyue and his group weren’t standing by idly; they were each going about their business while maintaining an extra measure of vigilance.

This made the scene look quite eerie.

Hearing the commotion and spotting Tong Zhanyan, the group finally stopped what they were doing.

“Why are you here?” Qing Jiyue approached.

“What’s going on with this?” Tong Zhanyan looked at the massive cage covered in black cloth, which was shaking violently from the impacts.

“The formula we used earlier didn’t work,” Qing Jiyue said.

Tong Zhanyan was somewhat surprised, though not entirely taken aback. “What about the other five?”

Qing Jiyue perked up slightly. “Apart from a few instances of losing control during the first few days, afterward it was mostly just emotional outbursts. The situation has clearly improved.”

“Those plants should be effective. I don’t know if they can cure it, but at least they can suppress it. ”

Tong Zhanyan breathed a slight sigh of relief. As long as it actually works, that’s good enough.

“Roar—”

A furious roar echoed from the cage once more.

It was the roar of a pure beast, devoid of any human rationality; just hearing it sent a chill down one’s spine.

“So what about him…” Tong Zhanyan looked over.

“We can only wait for him to wake up on his own.”

Tong Zhanyan opened his mouth to speak, but ultimately didn’t press the matter further.

Whether he’d wake up or not, no one knew.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t stay there long.

That night, Tong Zhanyan lay awake for a long time.

He had intended to answer questions about cultivation, but when he logged into the livestream, he found the chat filled with speculation about the roar he’d heard earlier that day.

Someone had apparently leaked the fact that the roar had come from inside the base.

So the comments ranged from people saying it was his family, to guessing it was his lover, to speculating that he was conducting some kind of illegal research.

Among all those speculations, quite a few linked the roar to Yang Hong and his group.

Yang Hong and his group came by often, and every time they came from the back.

Since the matter was hard to explain, Tong Zhanyan simply shut down his terminal and went to sleep.

The trellises were set up early, and problems soon followed.

Many of the cucumbers and string beans that had vines sprouting from the back needed to be trained again; otherwise, the less obedient ones would grow in the wrong places.

This task was actually quite easy—just a daily inspection was needed, and he could check on the other seedlings while he was at it.

As the trellises were completed, the number of cherry tomatoes sprouting side shoots and flower buds increased at a visible pace.

They were planted first to begin with, have the best seed viability, and are growing in the loosest, most fertile soil.

Many viewers in the livestream have seen this scene more than once; they’re practically waiting for the sky to drop a prize.

Because of this, the online viewership—which had dropped after the harvest—has started to rise again.

They have jobs and lives to manage; they might miss the sowing, seedling care, transplanting, and growth phases, but they would never miss the harvest.

And this time, it’s eight acres—a full eight acres.

That also marked the official milestone of the livestream’s fan count surpassing ten million.

The livestream was abuzz with excitement.

Over 300,000 people were online, with countless comments flooding in.

“Congratulations, streamer.”

“Screenshot this for posterity.”

“Wishing I win the next giveaway.”

“Thank you for being here.”

“It’s been just over a year since you started streaming, right? Nine million followers in a year…”

“That’s low. If you hadn’t caused a stir a few times in the early days, you’d definitely have more than that now.”

“Why bring up that old scandal from so many years ago?”

…

Compared to everyone’s impatience, Tong Zhanyan wasn’t in a hurry at all; he had to wait for the branches and flower buds to fully develop.

Before that, the plants with the ants and bees were almost ready to bear fruit.

As for the ants, the cherry radish, radishes, and bok choy still needed another week to ripen, so there was no rush.

As for the bees, most of the cherry radishes and bok choy had already finished blooming, so plans had to be made regardless of the harvest.

The early-blooming varieties had already set seeds.

After touring the fields, Tong Zhanyan changed into a plastic smock and entered the greenhouse with a sampling tube.

The moment he stepped inside, the bees swarmed toward him.

Tong Zhanyan ignored them and collected samples one by one.

The analyzer could process fifty samples at a time. After filling one tray, Tong Zhanyan handed it to Ning Langdong and continued working.

By the time Tong Zhanyan came out after collecting the second tray, Ning Langdong had already finished analyzing the first one.

“No widespread spikes have appeared, and the ones I marked haven’t changed either,” Ning Langdong said.

Tong Zhanyan handed him the other tray and went straight to check the results.

He had previously marked and pre-tested about a hundred plants; this tray contained over thirty.

Tong Zhanyan compared the infection rates one by one with the previous data and confirmed that there was indeed no increase in infection rates.

The infection rate is fixed at the moment of harvest; if it isn’t present now, it won’t appear even if they plant them again.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t rush to celebrate. After reviewing the results, he went back into the plastic greenhouse and took samples from the remaining marked plants.

An hour later, the test results for all the marked plants came back, confirming that none of them showed an increased infection rate. Only then did Tong Zhanyan breathe a huge sigh of relief.

The next moment, another problem began to give him a headache.

Those bees looked pretty aggressive.

If he just let them out like this, wouldn’t they sting people?

Tong Zhanyan didn’t have much time to hesitate, because the remaining flowers were about to wither.

The cherry radishes and bok choy in the adjacent plot were already starting to flower, but unless he built an enormous greenhouse to cover both areas and then dismantled the current one, there was no way to transfer the bees over there.

The day after the inspection was completed, Tong Zhanyan stubbornly tore down the current shelter.

No longer confined, the bees immediately scattered in all directions.

Apart from those guarding the hive, none of the bees paid any attention to him or Ning Langdong.

The two spent some time putting the plastic sheeting and poles away in the warehouse. By the time they came back out, there weren’t many bees left in front of the hive.

Tong Zhanyan left the hive alone for the time being, planning to let them adjust first. Besides, he still needed to figure out where to place it later.

With the bee situation resolved, Tong Zhanyan was no longer in a rush regarding the ants; he only went over to feed them every other day.

A few days later, seeing that many of the cherry tomatoes were beginning to bloom, Tong Zhanyan had to start pruning the flowers and leaves.

Since he could manage the early stages, Tong Zhanyan decided to ask Yang Hong and the others for help first.

They were eating his food, staying in his place, and complaining about being bored; he’d feel guilty if he didn’t put them to work.

The group took the offer well.

There were so many people in the livestream who wanted to come but couldn’t.

Out in the fields, Tong Zhanyan was teaching Yang Hong and the others what to do when his terminal rang.

Qing Jiyue was contacting him.

Tong Zhanyan stepped aside to answer it. “What’s up?”

They had just met a short while ago.

“The Planting Alliance has decided to unlock the next batch of seeds,” Qing Jiyue said.

“So?” Tong Zhanyan asked, puzzled.

They’d been talking about unlocking the next batch of seeds for a while now; it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

“The Planting Alliance asked me to check with you—what kind of seeds do you want?”

What kind of seeds did he want?

He could have whatever he wanted—

Tong Zhanyan suddenly realized—was the Cultivation Alliance asking for his input before unsealing the new seeds?

Tong Zhanyan’s heart skipped a beat.

His crops might indeed be better than others’, but asking him to decide on the next batch of seeds?

“Would you like to meet with them? If so, I can have them come over to discuss this with you in person.” Qing Jiyue said.

He didn’t know anything about farming; even if he were to relay the message, he could only copy and paste. Since this matter was so important, it would be best to meet and discuss it in person.

Of course, that was assuming Tong Zhanyan was willing. If he wasn’t, Qing Jiyue could simply continue relaying the message.

After a moment’s thought, Tong Zhanyan gave his answer: “Sure.”

But have them come here?

They’re the Planting Alliance—shouldn’t he be the one being asked to go to them at a time like this?

As if reading his mind, Qing Jiyue said, “I think they’d be very happy to meet you.”

Recalling the images of Old Wang and Old Xu in his memory, Qing Jiyue’s expression grew strange.

Should he have the doctors prepare emergency medical supplies in advance?