After mulling it over, Tong Zhanyan settled the crabs into the quarantine tank and then went online to buy a bunch of nets and iron rods to serve as supports.

Fearing they might fight again, Tong Zhanyan specifically bought two sets, planning to keep them separate later.

In addition to those, Tong Zhanyan bought a batch of plastic sheeting; the next plot of land was a full 300 mu larger.

After finishing his shopping, Tong Zhanyan took the opportunity to draw lots, intending to plant the purple vetch as soon as possible.

The nets and iron rods were delivered to his doorstep the very next day.

Since the crabs were still in quarantine, Tong Zhanyan wasn’t in a hurry.

He hadn’t fed them anything either.

Freshwater crabs are different from chickens and pigs; provided there are no environmental issues, they can survive for one to two months without food.

Moreover, while crabs technically do eat plant leaves, they aren’t the same as chickens or pigs—feeding them indiscriminately carries significant risks.

The aquatic plant seeds Tong Zhanyan had previously unsealed also contained algae, so he planned to release them directly into the stream to feed on the algae once the quarantine period was over.

The day after the nets and poles were delivered, the people selected in the lottery arrived.

One hundred people, for three days.

Just like last time, Tong Zhanyan went with Ning Langdong to pick them up. After giving them a tour of the area, he assigned them their tasks.

The soil had already been tilled, and decomposed leaves, plant ash, and eggshell powder had all been mixed in; all they needed to do was sow the seeds.

Clover, alfalfa, arrowroot, and radish could be broadcast-sown directly; since this was virgin land, he didn’t waste time digging furrows or marking out sections.

After demonstrating the process twice, Tong Zhanyan selected twenty people to sow seeds at the front, while the remaining eighty spread soil from behind.

Tong Zhanyan himself was also spreading soil from the rear, keeping a close eye on the others as he worked. The soil layer shouldn’t be too thick or too thin—it actually requires some skill.

It was a rare opportunity to be here, so everyone was quite excited at first, chatting and laughing.

But the work was simply too monotonous. Combined with the vast expanse of land—which was nowhere near as easy as it looked on screen—the group gradually fell silent within less than three hours, focusing solely on their labor.

As noon approached, the moment Tong Zhanyan called a break after timing the work, the group deflated instantly, like a burst balloon.

They’d actually wanted to stop much earlier, but hadn’t dared to speak up.

It wasn’t because of the cameras nearby—fearing ridicule from the live stream viewers—but because of Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan managed such a massive base all by himself; even with Ning Langdong and the others helping out, there were still countless tasks to handle every day.

They hadn’t realized how demanding it was when they were just watching from their screens, but once it was their turn to pitch in, they discovered it was far more exhausting than they’d ever imagined.

And Tong Zhanyan toiled like this day in and day out.

Lunch was eaten in the cafeteria.

Only those infected with the frenzy virus ate the crops; the uninfected still relied on nutrient solution.

Watching the food up close, smelling the aroma in the air, and seeing the others eating so heartily, the group of lottery winners looked on with undisguised hatred.

For a long time, they had wanted to strangle Tong Zhanyan; now, they just wanted to strangle those eating the crops.

After Tong Zhanyan distributed the nutrient solution to everyone, he gave them another hour to rest.

Some dozed off with their heads on the table, while others went outside to look around.

Tong Zhanyan paid a visit to Qing Jiyue.

Half a month after his return, Qing Jiyue’s complexion had visibly improved, and he had devoted more energy to his experiments.

When Tong Zhanyan found him, he was behind the mountain, in the area where those who had entered a state of complete frenzy were kept in isolation.

The two from the second group to wake up had long since been able to maintain human form, and Qing Jiyue had already moved them to the dining hall—just as Yang Hong and the others were leaving.

After them, another group began to wake up one after another.

This time, there were six of them.

The first group to wake up had been infected for only half a year, while the second group had been infected for about a year.

This group had all been infected for one to two years.

When Tong Zhanyan arrived, the doctor was talking to one of them.

“Don’t worry, just take it slow… It took some time for the others who woke up earlier to recover as well…”

Tong Zhanyan stood beside Qing Jiyue. “How’s it going?”

Qing Jiyue was in good spirits. “We can now confirm that for those with a deep infection lasting less than six months, as long as they continuously consume crops with reduced infection rates for two months, they can regain consciousness, and within three months, they can regain their human form.”

“For those infected between six months and a year, regaining consciousness takes three months, and fully regaining human form takes four months. For those infected between one and two years, regaining consciousness takes four months…”

Tong Zhanyan looked at the other cages. If the dosage only needed to be increased by one month every six months, then by that calculation, the few who had been severely infected and in a state of frenzy for two to three years should have woken up recently.

“One is already in the process of recovering,” Qing Jiyue said.

“When did that happen?” Tong Zhanyan asked in surprise; he hadn’t heard about it before.

“Just in the last few days. Since we haven’t really established communication yet, we’re not entirely certain, so I didn’t tell you,” Qing Jiyue explained.

Tong Zhanyan nodded, then turned his gaze toward the cage holding Qing Jiyue’s grandfather.

Qing Jiyue’s grandfather was among the first batch admitted, but since his infection had lasted over a decade, there had been no signs of change so far.

If the rules applied to him as well, that would mean over a year and a half of continuous consumption.

That sounded like a long time, but when he thought about it, it wasn’t that long—he’d been brought into the base for over half a year already.

“For those with longer infection durations, I’ve divided them into two groups. My grandfather, Ning Langdong’s mother, and the others who came in earliest are still eating the standard crops with reduced infection rates, while the few who came in later are eating crops with infection rates under 20%.”

If the crops with reduced infection rates are effective, then those with infection rates under 20%—where the rate is still decreasing—must be even more effective.

Qing Jiyue truly wanted his grandfather to recover quickly, but this was crucial experimental data that would be of great help to future generations.

Just as the two were speaking, today’s routine checkup had concluded, and the doctors packed up and left.

Tong Zhanyan and Qing Jiyue also headed back to the cafeteria.

The people who had previously told Tong Zhanyan they were leaving had already departed, and those who had been living in the cages took over their former rooms.

Tong Zhanyan’s prison-style single room was currently empty.

Tong Zhanyan glanced at the time; the prize draw was scheduled for tonight.

An hour passed quickly.

Tong Zhanyan led the hundred people back to the fields.

Qing Jiyue had nothing to do that afternoon, so he came over a little later to help out.

The group that had come for the raffle had long known that Qing Jiyue was at the base, but they’d never had the chance to meet his face-to-face.

Seeing him suddenly appear—and even come over to work alongside them—everyone couldn’t help but take a second look.

Qing Jiyue ignored their presence, scampering happily right behind Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan had done most of the farm work before, though he wasn’t very skilled at it, so he simply followed Tong Zhanyan’s lead.

Tong Zhanyan actually enjoyed having him tag along; he’d have to turn around and check on him every so often.

The field was too vast; by the time the sun had completely set and the streetlights came on, they had only managed to finish sowing the seeds of the purple milkvetch, and the people covering them with soil hadn’t even finished covering half of them yet.

Everyone had originally planned to keep working a little longer, since at this rate they might not finish the entire job in three days, but Tong Zhanyan refused.

There were still two days left; if they wore themselves out on the very first day, how would they manage the next two?

That night, after Tong Zhanyan had arranged for everyone to finish their meal and seen them off at the gate, he was just about to head back to rest when he spotted a figure standing in front of the small building.

Qing Jiyue approached, carrying a familiar little bag in his hand.

Tong Zhanyan stepped closer, took it, and looked inside—it was salt.

“Thank you.” Tong Zhanyan’s supply of salt was indeed running low; Qing Jiyue had clearly been keeping track of it for him all along.

“Mm.” Qing Jiyue nodded.

With the lottery winners gone and Ning Langdong and the others at the back door, Tong Zhanyan’s little house suddenly fell silent.

That made Qing Jiyue feel a bit uneasy.

“I’ll head back then—”

“Want to go see the crabs?” Tong Zhanyan walked toward the house, rare as it was to have a chance to be alone together.

Qing Jiyue paused, the words on the tip of his tongue.

“In two days, I’ll be releasing them into the stream.” Tong Zhanyan set the salt on the table, grabbed a flashlight, and headed back outside toward the open area to the left of the warehouse, near the small building.

There were too many people around the small building during the day, which could easily startle the fish, shrimp, and crabs, so Tong Zhanyan had set up the water tanks over there.

The warehouse was on the right side of the small building. Tong Zhanyan used to keep the composting barrels on the right side of the warehouse, but now those barrels had all been moved over to the septic tank area.

Qing Jiyue followed him.

After a few days, the crabs looked much livelier than when they’d first arrived.

Fearing they might feel insecure, Tong Zhanyan had even built a shelter out of pebbles in one corner of the tank.

Once night fell, perhaps feeling safe, the crabs were exploring every corner of the tank. Hearing a noise, they were startled and quickly hid behind the stones.

The stream crab, whose leg had been snapped off earlier, moved slowly; when the two looked over, it was wobbling along.

Qing Jiyue had lived near the front lines since childhood, so he was long accustomed to all manner of strange and exotic creatures, but the moment he saw it, he couldn’t help but feel astonished.

Those crabs looked very strange; at least, in all his years, this was the first time he’d ever seen a creature walk sideways.

Their two claws looked pretty intimidating, too.

“After I clean out the crab’s gills and the crab heart, I coat them in flour, deep-fry them until golden brown, then stir-fry them with some ginger and chili peppers to bring out the flavor. The larger ones can be cut in half and stir-fried, or steamed and served with dipping sauce.” Tong Zhanyan was practically drooling as he spoke.

Qing Jiyue couldn’t imagine just how delicious that would be, but he could instantly picture the expressions on the faces of the ancient creatures when they heard those words. “They’d cry.”

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but chuckle.

A smile tugged at Qing Jiyue’s lips as well. He looked down again at the crabs in the box.

They were peering nervously at them through the cracks.

The crabs’ eyes were oddly shaped, too.

As Qing Jiyue was examining them, he realized Tong Zhanyan hadn’t spoken in a while. He looked up.

Tong Zhanyan was quietly looking at him.

There were no streetlights nearby; only the light from the flashlight in Tong Zhanyan’s hand illuminated the area. He aimed the flashlight at the box, and their faces were bathed in the reflected glow from inside.

Against that backdrop, Tong Zhanyan’s smiling eyes seemed exceptionally deep.

Qing Jiyue’s heart skipped a beat.

The atmosphere felt a bit strange.

Tong Zhanyan took half a step toward Qing Jiyue, his head moving toward Qing Jiyue’s.

The moment his arm brushed against the one resting on the box, every muscle in Qing Jiyue’s body tensed instantly, and his mind went blank.

By the time he came to his senses, he had already moved aside in fright.

The distance between them widened instantly.

Qing Jiyue’s breath caught; he immediately looked up.

Tong Zhanyan hadn’t expected him to pull away and visibly froze for a moment.

Qing Jiyue felt a momentary panic.

The next moment, he forced himself to ignore the tingling sensation that felt like an electric shock coursing through every cell in his body and stepped back to his original spot.

Then he turned his head, slowly moved closer to Tong Zhanyan, and gently brushed against the corner of Tong Zhanyan’s lips.

After doing this, Qing Jiyue looked at Tong Zhanyan with a blank mind. Tong Zhanyan, don’t get the wrong idea.

He was just startled.

Watching Qing Jiyue pull away and then return, feeling the faint warmth of that slight touch on his lips, Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

He looked over.

Qing Jiyue’s face—including his ears and neck—was bright red. He stared at him blankly, as if trying hard to figure out why he was laughing.

“I just think you’re cute,” Tong Zhanyan said.

Qing Jiyue’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, and the next moment, he looked away.

“Kissing isn’t like that…” Before Qing Jiyue could fully look away, Tong Zhanyan took another step forward and kissed him.

This time, Tong Zhanyan didn’t give Qing Jiyue a chance to escape; he pulled him directly into his arms and held him tightly.

The moment their lips touched, Qing Jiyue’s body visibly trembled, and his muscles tensed.

Tong Zhanyan immediately held him even tighter as he kissed him.

He didn’t rush to take the city; instead, he traced every detail, using this to discover more of Qing Jiyue’s side that he had never seen before.

Qing Jiyue sensed Tong Zhanyan’s deliberate intent. He tried to do something, but with every stroke Tong Zhanyan made, his body and mind trembled anew. It felt as though a fire were burning from the soles of his feet to the top of his skull, leaving him at a loss for how to respond.

Qing Jiyue felt as though all the blood in his body was rushing to his brain, leaving him oxygen-deprived.

He tried to breathe, but the air around him felt as though it were on fire, so scorching that he couldn’t draw it in at all.

He tried to tell Tong Zhanyan that he was suffocating, but when he looked up, he met Tong Zhanyan’s dark eyes—eyes that seemed poised to devour him.

When the kiss ended, Qing Jiyue’s ears were filled with the sound of his own heartbeat and heavy breathing.

The sound was like a thunderclap, terrifyingly loud.

Qing Jiyue tried to control it, but he simply couldn’t.

At some point, the two of them had retreated to the wall of the warehouse.

The flashlight lay on the ground.

The light cast a slanting beam onto the left wall, and the reflected glow illuminated the surrounding area.

Tong Zhanyan paused briefly, then planted another kiss on the corner of Qing Jiyue’s mouth before bending down to pick up the flashlight.

Qing Jiyue smoothed out his clothes and, finally, surreptitiously wiped the corner of his mouth; his lips were burning hot.

The base was quiet after dark, making it perfect for a stroll.

Tong Zhanyan led the way toward the corn and pumpkin fields, with Qing Jiyue silently following behind.

After walking a short distance, seeing that it was getting late, Tong Zhanyan led the way back.

Qing Jiyue followed behind.

Tong Zhanyan watched his scooter disappear around the corner before heading upstairs.

Just before bed, Tong Zhanyan had a vague feeling that he’d forgotten something, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The next day, Tong Zhanyan went about his usual busy routine, but the looks he received from Tian Xinqing and the others were clearly suggestive.

Seeing their expressions, Tong Zhanyan finally remembered what he’d forgotten: the camera.

Tong Zhanyan immediately opened the livestream to check.

The camera hadn’t captured the moment directly, but it had recorded the fact that the two of them had stayed there for a long time last night, and the atmosphere was clearly off when they came out.

As a result, the livestream had been buzzing all night.

Tian Xinqing was in charge of managing the live stream, and quite a few people in the back channel would pop in from time to time to take a peek, so naturally, those in the back channel had discovered what was going on.

Once he figured out what was happening, Tong Zhanyan wore a bright smile on his face, but behind the scenes, he couldn’t help but grit his teeth. From now on, he wouldn’t allow the camera to come anywhere near his little house.

With that in mind, Tong Zhanyan led the group that had come for the raffle out to the fields.

The farm work still needed to be done.

At the live stream.

“But Senior, haven’t you forgotten something?”

“The camera?”

“The prize draw! The prize draw!”

“Oh, that. It’s no big deal. If it’s a little late, so be it.”

“I can tell you’re just jealous—jealous that the winners get to go to the base.”

“…Since when did catching the frenzy virus become something to be jealous of? Though I do admit I’m a little jealous.”

…

It wasn’t until noon that Tong Zhanyan remembered the raffle. While leading the others to lunch, he casually announced the winners.

Once the list was out, Tong Zhanyan glanced at it once and left it be; Ning Langdong and Qing Jiyue would handle the rest.

The entire afternoon, and then the next day as well, the sowing was finally completed.

That night, after Tong Zhanyan saw off the people who had come for the raffle, he arranged for a steady, fine rain.

The 300 mu of land was too vast for the sprinklers to cover, but fortunately, the crops in the other fields had mostly passed the pollination stage.

The next day, the rain stopped.

Tong Zhanyan put on his rain boots and took a walk over there. After adding some soil to the spots where it was lacking, he called a few people and led them, along with the crabs, iron rods, and nets, to the stream.

He didn’t rush to cover the area with plastic sheeting; the humidity was still too high, and the seeds could easily suffocate.

Last night’s rain wasn’t heavy, but it fell for a long time, making the stream even more turbulent than usual.

The stream remained crystal clear.

The banks were overgrown with a mix of weeds and aquatic plants; their leaves were covered in sparkling droplets of water, and as soon as someone walked through, their shoes were instantly soaked.

Tong Zhanyan chose the lakeside as the spot for raising crabs.

Cao Yu and the others continued to feed the fish regularly; the grass leaves the fish didn’t eat would drift downstream to become food for the crabs.

Moreover, thanks to the fish and shrimp waste in the lake, the aquatic plants in this area grow better than elsewhere, making it even more suitable for raising crabs.

Setting up the net took some time.

Although the stream isn’t particularly wide or deep, it still has a certain depth and width, so it wasn’t easy to completely encircle it.

Especially underwater, they had to carefully use stones to weigh down the net.

The crabs didn’t need to be transferred to another body of water; once the net was set, Tong Zhanyan simply tossed them into the grass along the stream bank.

There were only four crabs in total, and even the two larger river crabs had shells no wider than three fingers; they vanished almost instantly once they were in the grass.

The group watched for a while longer before heading off.

After finishing with the crabs, Tong Zhanyan called Ning Langdong and the others in the afternoon to help pull the plastic sheeting.

It had rained the night before, so there wasn’t much work to be done in the fields.

Once they were done, three hundred acres of the five hundred had been planted.

The remaining two hundred acres were still in the harvesting stage.

The next day, the people selected for the lottery arrived at the gate.

Their conditions were all quite severe; some couldn’t even make the trip on their own, so Tong Zhanyan didn’t go over to provoke them.

He turned his attention back to the greenhouses.

More than a week had passed, and the wheat had now outgrown both him and the corn planted earlier, standing out strikingly among the cornfields.

Their condition didn’t seem to have been affected either; they still looked just as infuriating as ever.

Tong Zhanyan sighed, resignedly put on his protective suit and shoe covers, and prepared to take another round of samples.

With over two hundred samples, Tong Zhanyan had to make several trips back and forth.

The testing itself was quick; the results for all samples were ready in twenty minutes.

Tong Zhanyan transcribed the results into his notebook in order, making comparisons along the way.

The situation was exactly as he had observed: those wheat plants, single-handedly, had rendered the dozens or even hundreds of surrounding corn plants completely helpless.

Especially the rows of corn closest to them—the infection rate had already reached around 70%.

An infection rate over 50% indicates toxicity; over 80% leads directly to mutation.

He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but Tong Zhanyan couldn’t shake the feeling that the corn surrounding the wheat was already starting to look off.

While there was little progress with the wheat, significant progress was being made with the cabbage white butterflies next door. After a large number entered the pupation stage, they began emerging from their chrysalises en masse.

When Tong Zhanyan looked over, the entire greenhouse was filled with white butterflies fluttering about.

If one ignored the strawberries below, which had been chewed to a pulp, the scene was actually quite beautiful.

Unfortunately, the state of those strawberries was simply too pitiful to ignore.

After circling the greenhouse once, Tong Zhanyan decided not to disturb them and turned back toward the small building.

Two days later, the person who had been deeply infected for over two years—and had previously shown faint signs of regaining consciousness—was confirmed to have fully regained consciousness.

Ning Langdong and the others rushed over immediately to see the commotion.

The Qing Family and Tian Xinqing’s side issued an announcement right away.

The base was bustling with activity both inside and out.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t join the crowd; instead, he conducted a test on the wheat and corn.

The results came back quickly: the infection rate in the rows closest to the greenhouse exceeded 80%; in the middle rows, it was over 60%; and even the outermost rows were already around 40%.

In another week, the wheat would be ready to harvest, yet its infection rate remained at 80%—not a single point lower.

This experiment was undoubtedly a failure.

Tong Zhanyan felt as though he could see bread, steamed buns, and noodles waving goodbye to him.

As for the rice Qing Jiyue had brought back, there had been no progress with the wheat; he hadn’t even started planting it yet.

But judging by the looks of it, there’s probably no hope left.

That night, Tong Zhanyan took a chicken over to Qing Jiyue, seeking comfort.

Once they got a taste of the fresh meat, as soon as Tong Zhanyan had served himself and Qing Jiyue and stepped away, a crowd rushed forward.

There wasn’t enough chicken soup or meat to go around, and those who were a bit slower to react didn’t even get a glimpse of the pot.

As for the group that had just returned from the lottery, since Tong Zhanyan’s arrival had disrupted their routine, they were left merely smelling the aroma.

The only one who resolutely refused the chicken meat and soup was Su Yanran.

Tian Xinqing also sat down inside the house.

Having managed to grab some soup, his face was beaming with a radiant smile.

The next day, just as Tong Zhanyan was preparing to check on the fields where the purple vetch were planted—they should have sprouted by now—Tian Xinqing came looking for him.

Tong Zhanyan initially thought it was about something related to the livestream, but Tian Xinqing led him to the woods behind the base on the right.

There, in the trees, was a beehive the size of two basketballs.

A hive of that size couldn’t have been built in just a day or two; clearly, it had been there all along, though they hadn’t noticed it.

“The people in the livestream spotted it,” Tian Xinqing said. “They said they saw bees flying this way every day and told us to come take a look, so I came.”

Tong Zhanyan was momentarily at a loss for words.

They, who went back and forth at the base every day, hadn’t noticed it, yet the people in the livestream had spotted it through a screen…

Were they looking through a magnifying glass or something?

Still, this was a good thing.

With three hives, the next time they split the colony, that would mean six hives, bringing the total population straight up to fifty thousand.

With fifty thousand bees, he could try to phase out manual pollination next time.

Manually pollinating five hundred mu of land—even if plants like the purple vetch only required a light tap—was practically impossible.

That night, Tong Zhanyan reached out to the paleontology team to check on their progress and mentioned the bees while he was at it.

Tong Zhanyan wasn’t in a hurry about the crabs and snails, but he hoped the paleontology team could send someone to scan and inspect the bees.

It had been several months since the last brood, and if all went well, they should be producing again, which would determine whether he could stop relying on artificial pollination next time.

They still hadn’t found the snails, but they had found another crab.

Upon hearing that another beehive had been discovered, the paleontology team was even more excited than Tong Zhanyan.

The fact that Tong Zhanyan had managed to keep them alive and get them to reproduce so quickly was already a huge surprise and delight; this was a surprise on top of that.

They came over as soon as possible.

Two days later, they arrived at the entrance.

They brought the newly found crab along with them.

Upon entering, they handed the crab to Tong Zhanyan and headed straight for the newly discovered beehive.

By the time Tong Zhanyan had settled the crab and approached, they had already finished scanning it.

“They’re already producing. With the previous colony and this new one, this hive must have at least six or seven thousand bees now, and they’re all in pretty good shape.”

“It looks like there were two queen bees among the bees we brought over initially; they split off after arriving at the base.”

After checking this area, the group headed to the mountains and the orange grove.

Just as Tong Zhanyan had anticipated, the queens in these two hives were also in the midst of laying eggs—though one had started earlier and the other had just begun.

The bee populations in these two hives—especially the original one—were already quite substantial. Now, with the newly discovered hive and the new brood added, the total had surged past forty thousand.

Forty thousand—a number the Paleontology team had previously dared not even imagine.

Now that it was all laid out before them, even though they’d anticipated it, the group was so overwhelmed they couldn’t speak for a long while.

Tong Zhanyan was quite pleased as well; after all, the off-site pollination was within reach.

Before leaving, the group went to take another look at the cabbage white butterflies.

They had already seen those butterflies in the livestream.

The butterflies were beautiful; it was the first time most viewers had seen them, and many were captivated, though the majority still felt more sorry for the strawberries.

The paleontology team, however, was different; they had to hold back hard not to clap and cheer.

Even though they were trying hard to hold back, the smiles on their faces were still incredibly bright.

Old Xu and Old Wang couldn’t stand the sight of them. Upon hearing they were coming over, they immediately turned and walked far away.

Tong Zhanyan still had no plans to release the cabbage white butterflies into the base; after all, once they emerged from their chrysalises, they would be ready to lay eggs immediately.

Letting them out now would be like releasing a tiger back into the wild.

With those strawberries in the greenhouse, Tong Zhanyan didn’t have much to worry about.

After seeing the paleontologists off, Tong Zhanyan looked over at the wheat in the neighboring greenhouse with a headache.

After twenty days, the corn had barely passed the flowering stage, yet it was already ready for harvest.

Most of the corn had infection rates exceeding 50%; keeping them was pointless.

Tong Zhanyan turned back to the small building to fetch a hose, intending to conduct one final inspection before harvesting the wheat and pulling up all the corn.

The inspection results came back quickly. The infection rates for the rows closest to the wheat hadn’t changed—after all, the wheat’s infection rate was only 80%.

The infection rate in the middle rows had already exceeded 70%.

To Tong Zhanyan’s surprise, the outer rows—which had previously been around 40%—showed virtually no change.

After making his final records one by one, Tong Zhanyan turned to look at the last batch of wheat he had tested.

The moment he got a clear view, his movements froze.

Of the eight wheat plants whose infection rates had previously been locked at 80%, one now showed an infection rate of just 78%.

Tong Zhanyan’s heart began to race. He hurried toward the greenhouse to take another sample.

Ten minutes later, the same test results appeared before him.

The infection rate of that wheat plant had indeed decreased.

In that moment, Tong Zhanyan was so excited he nearly jumped for joy; it was as if he could see the noodles and steamed buns that had just slipped through his fingers now gathering together and heading back toward him.

Overcome with excitement, Tong Zhanyan hurried back to the greenhouse. This time, he focused on inspecting the corn surrounding the wheat plant with a reduced infection rate.

With so much corn to examine, it took Tong Zhanyan a full two hours to finish.

The corn surrounding that particular wheat plant showed no difference in infection rate in the innermost row compared to the corn around the other wheat plants, but starting from the middle rows, the infection rate was noticeably lower than that of the corn surrounding the other wheat plants.

While the other corn had been completely overwhelmed, this corn had managed to hold its ground—though the victory had been hard-fought.

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t wait any longer and hurried back to the greenhouse to harvest the wheat and then plant new crops.

Frustrated that the others weren’t working fast enough, Tong Zhanyan called Qing Jiyue over directly.

Qing Jiyue’s ability was indeed very useful; the greenhouse was emptied in just one afternoon, and it was filled up again in half a morning.

While Qing Jiyue was busy, Tong Zhanyan wasn’t idle either; he planted the corn.

Once the work was done, Tong Zhanyan finally calmed down a bit.

Growing seedlings takes time, and even he couldn’t skip that process.

Once he had calmed down, Tong Zhanyan took a stroll through the fields where the purple vetch was growing, then went to check on the crabs before focusing his attention on the watermelon patch.

As the other crops in the fields entered the full harvest phase, the water spinach, winter melon, mustard greens, okra, loofah, and sweet melon he had planted earlier had also reached maturity.

This was his first time growing them, so the yield wasn’t large, but with so many varieties, the seeds from this batch would be enough to plant one or two mu of land.

The current batch of watermelons was also quite substantial; the next batch alone would be enough to plant at least seven or eight mu.

That meant he’d have to clear more land here as well.

Clearing land was easy now that he had a tiller, but while the large tiller was straightforward, the small one was a hassle. If he were to do it alone, it would take him at least two or three days.

Tong Zhanyan thought it over briefly, then decided to open his terminal and prepare for another small-scale raffle.

Ning Langdong and the others were so busy they didn’t have a moment to spare; they simply didn’t have time to pay him any mind.

The fields were overflowing with cherry radishes, bok choy, and other vegetables.

Just as Tong Zhanyan was editing the raffle details, Tian Xinqing hurried over from a distance.

Tong Zhanyan quickly posted the giveaway announcement and then looked over.

“Guess what we found?” Tian Xinqing asked loudly without stopping the car.

“What?”

“An ant hill.” Tian Xinqing pulled over. “The second ant hill.”

Tong Zhanyan’s heart, which had been in his throat, dropped back into his chest, and he felt both amused and exasperated.

It was just an ant hill—he’d thought something serious had happened, given Tian Xinqing’s dramatic reaction.

“Aren’t you going to take a look?” Tian Xinqing asked.

“No, thanks.” Tong Zhanyan declined.

Tian Xinqing hadn’t expected Tong Zhanyan to be so cold; for a moment, he was at a loss.

But this wasn’t the first time Tong Zhanyan had acted this way, so he quickly regained his composure.

Tian Xinqing turned the car around and headed back.

Watching him leave, Tong Zhanyan looked back at the watermelons.

He walked over and began picking the ripest ones to take back and feed to Tian Xinqing and the others.

Only after the flesh was gone did he get to the seeds.

After about forty minutes, the truck was full, and Tong Zhanyan headed back.

In the field, Tong Zhanyan could see from a distance that Tian Xinqing and the others were gathered together, discussing something with very serious and solemn expressions.

Tong Zhanyan parked the car in front of the small building and walked over. “What’s going on?”

“Check the livestream,” Tian Xinqing said, frowning.

Tong Zhanyan paused, opened his device, and entered the livestream through the shortcut.

The livestream was pitch black.

More accurately, the entire Green Shade was pitch black.

Tong Zhanyan realized what was happening almost immediately. He switched tabs and opened a search app.

Sure enough, every app that required an internet connection was unusable.

“It’s fine. It’s probably just a network issue. It’ll be back up in a little while,” Tong Zhanyan reassured them.

The group turned to look at him, confusion in their eyes.

“A network issue?”

“Does the internet ever go down?”

Tong Zhanyan was at a loss for words—wasn’t an internet outage a pretty common occurrence?

Upon reflection, he felt relieved.

The internet here wasn’t like the one in his previous world, where every household had its own cable; it was a public network covering every corner within the protective shield.

Judging by Tian Xinqing and the others’ reactions, they’d likely never experienced an internet outage in their entire lives.

“It’s just a possible malfunction…” Tong Zhanyan tried to explain, though he was also puzzled—it had been working fine just a moment ago, so why had it suddenly failed?

Had they been attacked?

By whom?