Once they figured out what was going on, Ning Langdong and his group immediately dropped what they were doing and ran toward the pigsty.

After regaining his composure, Tong Zhanyan followed them toward the pigsty while calmly opening his terminal to contact the people at the farm.

Taking it to a hospital was out of the question, but the farm should have a veterinarian capable of assisting with the birth.

The farm did indeed have one, and they were on their way immediately.

Any animal birth carries a certain degree of risk, and it’s certainly not a pleasant experience. From a distance, Tong Zhanyan could already hear the pig’s cries.

Because the sow kept squealing, the pigs in the neighboring pens were getting restless as well.

The group crowded into the aisle, blocking it completely.

They’d never seen a pig give birth before, let alone one they’d raised together from a young age.

“What should we do?”

“Should we go in and help?”

“How? Do you know how?”

The camera followed the crowd inside, now looking down on everything from above.

Tong Zhanyan grabbed someone at random and told him to wait by the front door, then squeezed his way inside himself.

The sow was indeed about to give birth—in fact, she was already in labor; the piglets’ heads were already visible from behind.

Perhaps because it was her first time and she was in pain, the sow was extremely agitated, squealing and pacing back and forth.

Tong Zhanyan shooed most of the people out of the aisle. “Don’t scare her.”

The crowd was filled with anxiety, but they could see there were simply too many people, so they obediently headed for the exit.

Two or three minutes later, perhaps exhausted, the sow found a corner and lay down. As her position shifted, the piglet stirred, as if it had been crushed.

Su Yanran, who was still in the aisle, gasped and turned pale.

Tong Zhanyan glanced at the time, calculating how long it would take for the farm staff to arrive.

If the amniotic fluid had broken but the piglet still couldn’t be delivered, there was a risk of suffocation—and it could even endanger the mother.

After lying down, the sow turned her head and tried to push with her snout; the pressure on her abdomen actually caused the piglet to emerge a little further.

“That’s it, push…” Su Yanran leaned over the pig pen and pushed along with her.

The sow tried several times without success, then attempted to get back up, but her belly was too big, and she failed after several attempts.

However, after all that struggling, the little piglet finally slipped out smoothly.

The twenty pigs in the pen were almost all colorless Longwhite pigs—the sow was one, and so was the little piglet.

After giving birth, the sow glanced back and then began nudging the piglet with her snout. Her movements were anything but gentle; it was as if she had no idea what the thing was.

Just as Tong Zhanyan was about to call someone in to pick up the piglet—which had already been rolled around several times by the sow—his terminal buzzed.

Tong Zhanyan checked the front gate’s surveillance feed and immediately opened the main gate.

A group of people jogged onto their ATVs and raced toward him at top speed.

Inside the pen, the sow had already walked away.

A few minutes later, the farm staff arrived.

There were four of them in total, and they brought two boxes containing tranquilizer guns and medication.

Upon entering and seeing the wet, bright red piglet—about the size of a mouse—on the ground in the pen, the four of them shuddered in shock.

“We have to get it out quickly; they’ll bite the piglet to death.”

With that, two of them began climbing up the half-wall of the pen.

As soon as they climbed up, the sow, as if sensing danger, glared at them with extreme hostility and let out a threatening grunt.

“I’ll distract her.”

The two worked in perfect sync: one moved away from the piglet in the opposite direction, while the other approached it.

The sow paid no attention to the one distracting her. Seeing the other trying to get close to the piglet, her temper flared, and she charged violently toward that side of the wall, slamming into it with all her might.

The wall shook from the impact.

The pigs in the neighboring pen were startled and quickly darted to the opposite corner.

The man standing on the wall, trying to retrieve the piglet, was also startled.

Not content with just ramming the wall, the sow braced herself against it with her front legs and stood up, ready to bite.

“You two, get down first,” Tong Zhanyan quickly interjected.

Tong Zhanyan usually didn’t meddle in matters he didn’t understand, but the sow hadn’t been this aggressive just moments ago; it was clearly because she’d been provoked.

The two men also sensed something was wrong and hurriedly climbed down.

“How long has it been since she gave birth?” one of the other two men who had come over asked.

“About five minutes,” Su Yanran replied quickly.

“Five minutes?”

“Are you sure?”

The four men from the farm looked at Tong Zhanyan and his group with utter astonishment.

“We’re sure,” Tong Zhanyan nodded.

The four exchanged glances, their surprise growing.

“What’s wrong?” Tong Zhanyan asked, puzzled.

“We don’t even dare let the sows give birth on their own, because as soon as the piglets are born, they’ll kill them,” one of them said.

“They’re naturally temperamental, and combined with the pain, their aggression is stronger than ever at this moment,” another added.

Tong Zhanyan looked into the pig pen.

After scaring off the intruder, the sow let out two more grunts in their direction, then lowered her head to nudge the piglet before resuming her pacing.

She was clearly in a bad mood, but showed no intention of attacking the piglet—in fact, she seemed to be protecting it.

“Let’s leave it at that for now,” Tong Zhanyan said. “If it doesn’t work out, we’ll try to save it later.”

The expressions of the four people at the farm were all quite complex.

The pigs they raised themselves—even the castrated ones—were all temperamental; it was common for the farmhands to get bitten.

Of the twenty pigs here at Tong Zhanyan’s place, only the uncastrated male and female breeding stock were aggressive, and even they only fought at a normal level.

Even during farrowing—which typically has a high mortality rate—the sows were merely exceptionally aggressive.

“So we just wait like this?” Su Yanran was anxious; the pig looked like it was in terrible pain.

“It would be best if it could give birth on its own,” Tong Zhanyan said, glancing at the four people from the farm.

One of them replied, “If all else fails, we’ll knock it out. We brought medication.”

Su Yanran breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Just as they were speaking, the sow lay down again.

This time, she didn’t even try to turn her head to look; after lying down, she just kept squealing.

Two minutes later, the second piglet emerged.

After giving birth, the sow paused for a moment before getting back to her feet.

She approached the piglets. Under the tense gaze of the group, she sniffed them, then nudged one over to the eldest and paid it no further attention.

She paced back and forth, letting out anxious grunts, and a few minutes later, she lay down again.

The third piglet came out much more smoothly.

Perhaps because she now had experience, the sow didn’t get up after giving birth as she had before, but simply lay motionless on the ground.

Soon, the fourth one emerged.

“Did you get an ultrasound earlier? How many were there?” asked a man from the farm.

“No, we didn’t,” said Tong Zhanyan.

The farm worker immediately turned back to rummage through a box; they had brought a scanner. “A litter usually has four or five piglets—this should be about right.”

Once the scanner was found, the man moved forward.

As soon as he approached, the sow lifted her head to look at him.

He could only quickly scan her before hastily stepping out of her line of sight, then moved to the side to examine the scan.

Once she was sure it was safe, the sow turned her head to sniff the two piglets. After a moment’s hesitation, she tentatively licked them twice.

She had little experience with this; newborn piglets aren’t much bigger than adult mice, and she nearly swept one into her mouth.

Seeing this, the other four people in the aisle immediately tensed up, ready to rush into the pen to save the piglets at any moment.

Seeing them like that, Su Yanran, who was already nervous, turned pale with anxiety.

After licking them twice, the sow lay down again.

“Hm?” the person holding the scanner asked.

“What’s wrong? ”

“It looks like… there are five?”

The other three farmhands immediately went over to look at the scan.

“You must be mistaken…”

“Let me see.”

Sows usually have only four or five piglets per litter; there were already four here—how could there possibly be five?

Just as the four were examining the scan, the sow began pushing again.

“Scan it again.” One of the farm workers took the scanner and, timing it with the sow’s labor, quickly scanned her.

After the scan, the other three gathered around.

Su Yanran did the same.

“There really are four more…”

Once confirmed, the four farm workers all looked at Tong Zhanyan with mixed emotions.

Their own sows usually had only four or five piglets per litter, yet Tong Zhanyan’s had nine—and this was her very first litter…

Tong Zhanyan, however, wasn’t particularly surprised.

In his previous world, certain breeds could produce up to fifteen piglets per litter, while common breeds typically had around ten.

The pigs at the farm were clearly the ones with the problem.

There was movement in the pen again, and Tong Zhanyan immediately looked over.

The fifth piglet had already emerged.

After giving birth, the sow lifted her head to glance around before lying back down and continuing to push.

Seeing this, the people in the aisle fell silent.

The sixth and seventh piglets followed quickly.

After giving birth to them, the sow got up, stretched a bit, and then went back to licking the piglets.

Newborn piglets need to be licked—first, to remove the mucus from their bodies, and second, so the sow can leave her scent on them to establish the mother-offspring bond.

Even in Tong Zhanyan’s previous world, sows that had just given birth were somewhat aggressive; anything lacking their own scent would make them feel threatened.

The third point, and the most important one, is that it stimulates the piglets’ blood circulation and excretion.

With the experience from before, the sow’s movements were much smoother this time.

After licking all seven piglets that had already been born, the sow quickly lay down again.

By the time the last two piglets were born, she had almost no strength left, and even her cries were hoarse.

Nevertheless, she struggled to her feet and licked the remaining two.

“Should we help them out?”

The four farmhands looked directly at Tong Zhanyan.

Their experience clearly wasn’t enough, so Tong Zhanyan had to make the decision himself.

Tong Zhanyan looked at the sow, then at the piglets—whose eyes were still closed and whose skin was still a deep red—and shook his head. “Let’s leave it at that.”

One of the four farmhands seemed to want to say something but held back, ultimately saying nothing.

After watching for a while longer, the group went outside.

The onlookers, led by Gu Yunyang, didn’t leave; unable to see it in person, they watched via the livestream.

By now, they all knew the birthing was over and that a total of nine piglets had been born.

The livestream chat became even livelier as a result.

“I think it’s because of those crops. The other pigs here aren’t aggressive.”

“So the reason those poultry and livestock are so fierce is that they’ve entered frenzy mode, too?”

“It’s very likely. It’s just that they don’t have Spirit Beasts, so their frenzy mode is slightly different from ours?”

“More importantly, don’t you think the newborn piglets are pretty cute?”

“They are pretty cute, just like mice.”

“You in the front, you’d better keep quiet.”

……

After leaving the pigsty, the four people from the farm briefly discussed post-birth care with Tong Zhanyan.

Sows that have just given birth should not be fed. First, they lack the strength to eat; second, their bodies are weak at this stage, and their digestive function is impaired, so feeding them can easily lead to indigestion.

However, four to six hours after giving birth, it is appropriate to provide some water, as the birthing process depletes a significant amount of bodily fluids.

For the next two days, a liquid diet should be the mainstay, and it is best to feed small amounts frequently.

After two days, food intake can be gradually increased.

After one week, once regular feeding has resumed, add more nutritious food based on the number and condition of the piglets to ensure the sow’s milk supply keeps up.

After listening, Tong Zhanyan began thinking about how to supplement their nutrition, while Su Yanran pulled the four of them aside to ask several more questions.

Since Tong Zhanyan had entrusted him with the care of the chickens and pigs, he had to take full responsibility.

After finishing his questions, Su Yanran escorted the four of them to the door.

Tong Zhanyan went back to the pigsty to check on the piglets before returning to the small house.

Later that evening, after Su Yanran returned, Tong Zhanyan called him over for a private conversation.

“Eggshell powder?” Su Yanran asked in surprise.

Tong Zhanyan replied, “Yes. Grind it as fine as possible, then mix it into their feed. About three tablespoons each time should suffice.”

“Also, feed them twenty eggs daily, and add more pumpkin and corn.”

“Remember not to feed them this way at first; wait a week before starting.”

Eggshell powder is rich in calcium. It’s not just for crops—pigs can eat it, and so can people, actually.

Pigs that have just given birth need easily digestible, high-energy, high-protein food, but he didn’t have any of that on hand, so he had to make do with what he had.

He had even considered slaughtering a couple of chickens to make soup, but since the pig had never tasted anything rich in its entire life—eggs aside—suddenly feeding it something so fatty might actually cause indigestion.

Su Yanran’s expression turned somewhat peculiar.

“What’s wrong?”

Su Yanran didn’t know what to say for a moment.

The crops were one thing, and while he was surprised by the eggshell powder, he could understand it. But eggs? Twenty a day?

The base currently had three hundred chickens, with about one hundred and fifty laying hens. With one egg laid every two days, that came to seventy or eighty eggs daily.

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t eat them all by himself, so he took them to the mess hall in the back for the others to eat.

With eighty people in Yang Hong’s group and five of them, that worked out to just one egg every two days per person.

Even so, the viewers in the livestream would express deep distress every time they saw this.

Now Tong Zhanyan wanted to feed them to the pigs—twenty a day, no less…

Su Yanran suddenly realized something: they were truly worse off than those pigs.

Although he’d long since grown tired of hearing that very sentiment in the livestream chat.

Complex feelings aside, Su Yanran didn’t really have any objections—after all, that sow had just given birth to nine piglets in one go.

Tong Zhanyan’s base had only twenty pigs in total before this; now their numbers had doubled.

Pigs aren’t cheap; even piglets cost at least two or three million each.

This was a much better deal.

Plus, that sow could keep producing more.

Thinking this, Su Yanran suddenly couldn’t wait to give her a special treat.

But he managed to hold back.

Tong Zhanyan had said they could only feed them liquid food in the early stages.

After giving those instructions, Tong Zhanyan went over to the pigpen to check that the piglets were doing well, then hurried off to attend to other matters.

By the time he finished marveling at the sight, Ning Langdong and the others had already returned to the field to plant the sweet potatoes.

Tong Zhanyan led his team back to the sweet potato patch to finish the cuttings as quickly as possible.

Every part of the sweet potato is valuable; not only are the tubers edible, but the vines and leaves are as well.

The vines and leaves, in particular, grow continuously, making them an excellent feed for pigs.

Two days later, the sweet potato cuttings were finished.

The next day, Tong Zhanyan led several dozen people to the greenhouse, where the wheat had already ripened.

This experiment was another failure; the infection rate remained unchanged.

Tong Zhanyan led a group of people in using shovels to knock the plants over, cutting the wheat ears and severing the stalks. After digging out the roots, they loaded the soil into buckets one by one.

It took nearly fifty people a full three days to finish the job.

Last time, Qing Jiyue managed it in just one afternoon.

Once everything was cleared away, Tong Zhanyan began filling the area with soil the very next day.

Two days later, when the soil was finally back in place, the piglets—now a week old—began to open their eyes.

Newborn piglets are truly adorable—tiny in size, with a delicate pink hue and eyes that are both clear and jet-black.

This made everyone want to go take a look.

With over 350 people at the base, even if ten people went at a time, it would take thirty-five rounds.

Fearing the sow might be startled and react with stress, Su Yanran strictly enforced a limit: each person could visit no more than once every three days.

This made the pigsty area quite bustling.

The seedling preparation was already finished, and since transplanting wasn’t urgent for another day or two, Tong Zhanyan let them do as they pleased.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Tong Zhanyan started growing seedlings in the greenhouse.

He wasn’t growing wheat seedlings, but corn.

This time, he planned to try mixed planting, but mixed planting isn’t something you can just do on a whim.

Wheat roots grow deep and are numerous; a single plant can cover about ten square meters of soil, making ordinary crops no match for it.

The only crop that stands a chance is corn, which also has deep, relatively strong roots.

However, if there are too many wheat plants with extensive root systems, even if the corn manages to survive, it will inevitably be infected. Therefore, he planned to fill the entire greenhouse with corn and then interplant eight wheat plants among them.

Using 600 square meters of corn to surround and suppress eight wheat plants.

After transplanting the corn, there were still some weak or inferior seedlings left over, but the students took them all.

Fortunately, there were still several thousand pounds of corn in the warehouse; at most, it would just take a little time.

Once he was done, Tong Zhanyan went over to check on the pigsty.

Mainly to check on their feed, to ensure it was sufficient.

Su Yanran was doing a decent job.

After checking on the piglets, Tong Zhanyan had the group rest for two days before officially organizing the transplant.

There were still quite a few crops left in the fields, some of which were growing quite well, but Tong Zhanyan ordered them all to be pulled up.

After more than a year of fertilization, most of the soil—except for the newly cleared plots—had become quite loose and fertile. Even without further fertilization, those crops would still grow well.

But leaving them in the ground would prevent the tillers from entering the fields, and the seedlings for the next crop were waiting for the compost from those plants.

Only through such efficient rotation could he accumulate as much of an advantage as possible in the shortest amount of time.

With 200 mu of land—100 mu of purple vetch, 10 mu each of pumpkin, corn, sweet potato, and rapeseed, and another 10 mu combined for green manure and cloud-variety radishes and cabbages—the remaining area was actually only about 50 mu.

With over three hundred people transplanting fifty mu of land, the task was relatively light compared to before.

In the fields, a group of people chatted and laughed.

Tong Zhanyan was listening while he worked when his terminal rang.

It was the Devil King contacting him.

He hadn’t returned since his last trip to the front lines. After bringing in the fourth-year students for temporary support, he’d gone to help the Qing Family, and then the fourth-year class had graduated…

Tong Zhanyan answered the call. “Teacher Wang?”

His first year had been so miserable that, seeing Devil King’s face up close, Tong Zhanyan instinctively felt the urge to run away.

“The Qing Family head is showing signs of frenzy again,” Devil King cut straight to the chase.

Tong Zhanyan froze for a moment, then furrowed his brow.

Qing Suifeng and Chu Yi hadn’t returned since leaving the base; by his calculations, they’d stopped consuming crops for over two months.

The frenzy infection itself tends to be triggered by prolonged combat and high-pressure environments, and they were currently on a fiercely contested battlefield.

Tong Zhanyan thought for a moment, then quickly made up his mind. “I’ll send some crops to the front lines as soon as possible.”

The Devil King nodded and was about to end the communication.

These matters were originally handled by Qing Jiyue, but he was currently away.

“How are you holding up?” Tong Zhanyan asked.

The Devil King hadn’t returned since his last departure either, though his condition was milder than the other two’s to begin with.

Wang Yanzhou paused, surprised by the concern. “I’m fine.”

Tong Zhanyan added a word of caution, “Be careful.”

“Mm.”

After ending the call, Tong Zhanyan thought it over and contacted the R&D team to commission a new large pot and a matching five-tier steamer.

Then he went online to buy a bunch of food-grade sealable bags, plastic bottles, and a stack of trays for drying.

The front lines were in complete chaos right now, and Chu Yi was currently outside the protective shield—ordinary food simply wouldn’t do.

“What’s going on?” Ning Langdong and the others had already noticed him.

Tong Zhanyan gave a brief explanation.

That night, Tong Zhanyan first picked some cherry tomatoes and cucumbers—which were more durable for storage, transport, and consumption—and sent them to the back door, intending to deliver a portion of them to the top first.

Two days later, the airtight bags, jars, and trays Tong Zhanyan had purchased arrived.

He prepared about 300 pounds of corn, washed it thoroughly, dried it in the sun, then ground it into coarse grains and packed it into jars.

This way, if conditions allowed, Qing Suifeng and the others could cook it like millet.

Once that was done, the pot Tong Zhanyan had ordered also arrived.

He had custom-ordered the pot earlier, so the steamer wasn’t a problem.

As soon as the items arrived, Tong Zhanyan immediately took a group of people to the warehouse.

He selected about 500 pounds of evenly sized sweet potatoes, had the group wash them thoroughly, cut them into finger-width strips, and then placed them in the steamer.

Thirty minutes later, the sweet potatoes were fully cooked.

Tong Zhanyan transferred them to trays and spread them out using drying cloths.

Finally, he set up a fan to blow air over them, accelerating the evaporation of moisture.

During this process, he turned them over every two hours.

The sweet potato chips made this way could be eaten immediately and would keep for a long time.

Three days later, the ready-to-eat sweet potato chips were complete.

Tong Zhanyan packed them into bags and delivered them to the back door along with the corn and millet.

The 800 jin of provisions were enough not only for Qing Suifeng and Chu Yi, but also for Yang Hong, the Devil King, Tang Shijin, and over a dozen others.

After delivering the supplies, Tong Zhanyan reached out to Qing Suifeng to inform him about the provisions and, while he was at it, asked about Qing Jiyue.

Qing Jiyue had been away for over half a month.

There was no signal outside the protective shield, so terminals couldn’t be used, but they maintained regular contact via radio.

The last time they’d communicated was three days ago, and everything was fine.

Tong Zhanyan breathed a sigh of relief.

After finishing up here, Tong Zhanyan transplanted the corn seedlings; they were already over ten centimeters tall.

There wasn’t much land this time, so the transplanting would be nearly complete in a week.

Once the last few seedlings were transplanted, Gu Yunyang and his group immediately snapped up all the remaining weak and stunted seedlings.

Meanwhile, the crops on their own land were entering the harvesting stage.

They had transplanted later than he had, and without fertilizer, the growth cycle had naturally been prolonged.

Tong Zhanyan went to take a look; the overall condition of the crops was quite good, even better than when Ning Langdong, Tian Xinqing, and Su Yanran first planted them.

After all, they had six months of experience.

Tong Zhanyan told the group to take all the harvested crops with them.

He didn’t need these items, and besides, the group had been working tirelessly with him from dawn till dusk every day since school started—they’d earned a break.

With about ten days left between transplanting and pruning the flowers and leaves, Tong Zhanyan decided to give the group another ten-day break.

From the start of the semester until now, they’d only known busy and extremely busy periods; there had been very few times when they could completely stop and rest.

Suddenly having a vacation, the group immediately broke into smiles; some wanted to go home to visit, while others discussed where to go for fun.

After that, Tong Zhanyan gave Ning Langdong and his four colleagues a break as well.

Since the five of them had to assist Tong Zhanyan in managing the base, they were even busier than the others. It was a rare chance to rest, so they were all quite happy.

Master Xu and Master Wang left that very afternoon, while Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran booked tickets for the next morning; they were all planning to go home for a visit.

Su Yanran’s home was in the outer city, and he hadn’t been back in a long time.

Tian Xinqing hadn’t even gone back since the last school break.

Ning Langdong didn’t leave.

His mother was right by the back gate, and he was worried that Tong Zhanyan wouldn’t be able to handle everything on his own.

Tong Zhanyan was helpless, but his presence did indeed make things a lot easier.

With twenty large pigs, just cooking their feed required two huge pots—not to mention the pile of chickens, ducks, geese, fish, and shrimp.

On the night of the holiday, Tong Zhanyan made it rain all night long.

The day after the rain, the entire base was a muddy mess, so Tong Zhanyan decided to give himself two days off as well.

For those two days, he stayed in the small house, doing absolutely nothing.

Having grown accustomed to being busy, he found it rather strange to suddenly stop.

Two days later, while keeping an eye on Qing Jiyue’s group—who should be returning soon—he transplanted the corn into the greenhouse.

He still didn’t rush to plant the wheat, because of the difference in growth cycles; if he planted the corn now, it definitely wouldn’t be able to compete with the wheat.

After the corn, Tong Zhanyan dug out the seeds he’d unlocked later—ones better suited for hot weather—and sowed them along with the watermelons.

He also planted the pear seeds he’d bought earlier but hadn’t gotten around to sowing yet.

Unlike oranges, pears couldn’t be used to make fertilizer, and since they also took several years to bear fruit, Tong Zhanyan wasn’t in a hurry.

However, looking at them, Tong Zhanyan was reminded of something else: as conditions improved, he could actually start considering growing things other than crops.

Such as sugarcane.

Currently, he only had salt and chili peppers, but sugarcane could be used to make brown sugar.

Other examples included fruits like bananas, loquats, and grapes.

That night, Tong Zhanyan took out the seed list again.

Ten days might sound like a long time, but when it came to a vacation, it felt surprisingly short.

Tong Zhanyan hadn’t yet decided on the seeds when Tian Xinqing, Su Yanran, Old Xu, and Old Wang returned one after another.

As soon as Old Xu and Old Wang returned, they told him the first batch of books had been printed and asked if he wanted them sent to the school for distribution or delivered to the base.

Tong Zhanyan instructed them to send them directly to the base, since most of the students spent their time there anyway.

With that settled, just as Old Xu was about to make the arrangements, Su Yanran came racing over in her mobility scooter.

Upon returning, Su Yanran immediately went to check on the chickens and pigs under her care.

Everything else was fine, but several fish had flipped over.

The group rushed over immediately.

Before leaving, Su Yanran went to the warehouse to fetch a few extra-long support poles.

On the lake’s surface, two fish lay belly-up, bobbing up and down with the waterfall’s current.

“Didn’t you notice anything when you were feeding them earlier?” Su Yanran tried to use the poles to pull the two fish ashore.

“No.” Ning Langdong looked rather grim, as he’d been the one feeding the fish these past few days.

A few minutes later, the fish were hauled onto the shore.

Over two months had passed, and the fish had grown considerably.

“Is this… an earthworm-snake?” Old Xu frowned deeply, for both fish bore circular holes where they’d been gnawed, and it appeared their entire bellies had been hollowed out.

“Can that thing actually swim?” Tong Zhanyan asked, looking over.

“It certainly can’t do it for long, but for a short time, who knows? Mutant creatures have incredibly strong vitality.”

Tong Zhanyan suddenly thought of the wheat.

“Then what do we do?” Su Yanran asked anxiously.

Ning Langdong and the others fell silent. They couldn’t do anything about it on shore, and there was no way to catch it in the water either.

“It’s fine. We’ll just buy a few carp and put them in later,” Tong Zhanyan said.

The group turned to look at him.

“Carp eat insects,” Tong Zhanyan said, gazing at the lake’s surface. “If that doesn’t work, we’ll put in some catfish.”

Both carp and catfish are omnivorous; they eat aquatic plants as well as insects. Relatively speaking, carp are less aggressive, while catfish are more so—they even eat small fish.

Unexpectedly, the matter was resolved just like that. As Ning Langdong and the others breathed a sigh of relief, they couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions.

“Is this what you call an ecosystem?” Ning Langdong asked.

Tong Zhanyan hadn’t expected to hear those two words; he was a bit surprised, but then smiled and nodded. “That’s right.”

The ecosystem isn’t just about keeping a few bees to help with pollination—it’s a vast cycle. Only when that cycle is in motion will everything move in a better direction.

All five of them breathed a sigh of relief.

Seeing how eager they were to learn, Tong Zhanyan added, “They also eat shrimp.”

The smiles on the five faces slowly froze.

Tong Zhanyan was at a loss for words, “So just putting in carp isn’t enough; we also need to add some other creatures that can serve as food.”

As he spoke, Tong Zhanyan contacted the fish farm and asked them to check on the carp supply.

They replied quickly: they had carp.

“What about crabs and snails?”

This time, the other party paused before replying, “What are those?”

Tong Zhanyan was taken aback by the question.

A moment later, he asked them to send a list of seafood currently available on the market.

The list arrived quickly, but it didn’t include crabs or snails.

Tong Zhanyan searched online.

The information online was pitifully scarce, and the few entries he found were just people expressing surprise after seeing them in some academic papers.

Tong Zhanyan immediately realized that these two “clever” creatures had effectively driven themselves to extinction.

Tong Zhanyan felt helpless. He had originally planned to use these two species to feed the carp, but now that they were gone, the shrimp would become the bottom of the food chain.

Shrimp don’t reproduce nearly as well as snails. If they were the only ones left at the bottom of the food chain, it was only a matter of time before they were eaten to extinction.

Tong Zhanyan felt a headache coming on.

Thinking it over, he dug up the contact information for the paleontology team. There was one more thing that could serve as food for the carp—mosquitoes.

Mosquitoes reproduce at an incredible rate, and since their larvae live in water, they’re the perfect fish food.

The paleontology team had been trying to sell him this idea for a while, but he’d always refused without hesitation—because deep down, he believed these creatures should be wiped off the face of the earth.

Little did he know that before long, he’d be the one asking for them.

He opened the chat window and quickly typed out the reason for his message.

Hearing that Tong Zhanyan had finally come around and was willing to take the mosquitoes, he could sense their joy even through the screen.

They’ll deliver them tomorrow.

Tong Zhanyan was filled with resistance, but he could only say thank you.

After confirming the details, Tong Zhanyan turned to contact the farm to tell them he wanted twenty carp.

Just as he was about to do so, he asked one more question: “Do you have crabs and snails over there?”

“No.” The people from the paleontology department clearly knew what crabs and snails were.

Tong Zhanyan was disappointed.

“But we have a rough idea where to find them.”

Tong Zhanyan, who was about to contact the farm, paused. He hurriedly asked, “Can you help me get some?”

“That’s a bit difficult. We only have a rough idea of which area they’ve been spotted in, but we’re not certain they’re actually there.”

Tong Zhanyan was speechless.

After a moment’s thought, he said, “I can sponsor you with some event funding.”

“We’ll discuss it.”

After a pause, the person across from him added, “We’ll deliver the mosquitoes first thing tomorrow morning.”

Tong Zhanyan’s mouth twitched. Could he return them?