With doubts swirling in his mind, Tong Zhanyan quickly activated the base’s defense system to check the surrounding surveillance feeds.

When the software opened, and he saw nothing but a black screen, Tong Zhanyan realized that the base’s defense system also relied on the internet to function.

Tong Zhanyan was speechless, then immediately furrowed his brow.

Could this be another attack targeting him?

Such a massive operation—the other side had clearly gone to great lengths.

Tong Zhanyan paused to think, then gave his orders: “Tian Xinqing, call everyone back, and have them all head to the back gate.”

Tian Xinqing looked confused at first, but quickly grasped Tong Zhanyan’s meaning. His expression changed instantly, and he immediately rallied the group of people still standing there in a daze, instructing them to spread out and gather everyone.

Tong Zhanyan hopped into his vehicle and headed toward the back gate, determined to reach Qing Jiyue as quickly as possible.

If the base was under attack, he would undoubtedly be the primary target; if he ran around aimlessly, everyone would be in danger.

The vehicle hadn’t gone far when Tong Zhanyan spotted Qing Jiyue. Realizing something was wrong, Qing Jiyue immediately headed toward the small building.

The two met up and headed toward the back gate together.

“What’s going on?” Tong Zhanyan asked on the way.

“I’ve already sent someone to check outside. The area around the base is all like this,” Qing Jiyue said, his expression grave. “Stay with me.”

“Okay.” Tong Zhanyan didn’t try to be stubborn.

The group of guards at the small house usually spent their days helping with farming and living a leisurely life; you’d never guess they’d come from the front lines.

But now they were completely different. Defenses had long been set up along the river by the back gate.

Many were fully armed, preparing to head to the Qing Family’s contact point far away to relay the news immediately, to avoid being trapped and left to die here if something truly went wrong.

It was the first time in their lives they’d encountered a situation where terminals inside the protective shield were unusable, which was quite frustrating.

However, since there had never been a network outside the shield and many of them had been there before, they adapted quickly enough.

After watching the group leave, Tong Zhanyan followed Qing Jiyue into the mess hall to wait and see how things unfolded.

In less than ten minutes, everyone in the base had gathered at the back door.

Qing Jiyue issued unified orders: everyone was divided into two shifts to take turns guarding the riverbank, with instructions to sound the alarm with a beast’s roar the moment anything happened.

Those without combat capabilities were instructed to prioritize avoiding injury, while those with combat capabilities were told to spread out.

A group of guards and half of those selected by lottery had come from the front lines; they were more accustomed to this kind of situation and sprang into action immediately.

Gu Yunyang and his group of students, however, were encountering this for the first time and were a step slower to react.

Yet their faces showed no panic, only uncontrollable rage.

During the last attack, they could only watch from afar, but this time was different. If those bastards came, they would make sure they never returned.

After half the group left, the rest entered the dining hall.

Time dragged on as everyone held their breath, waiting for that beastly roar.

An hour passed, and there was still no sound from outside.

Two hours passed, and still there was no sound from outside.

Three hours passed, and as the sky began to darken, half of the group that had gone outside returned.

They brought back news that left everyone somewhat bewildered.

They had originally thought the base was under attack and that the internet outage was limited to the base area, but in reality, the entire city had lost internet access.

Outside, chaos had already erupted.

“Could it really just be a technical glitch?” someone speculated.

“But everything was fine before.”

“There’s a first time for everything…”

The group began to discuss the matter.

In the cafeteria, Qing Jiyue looked at Tong Zhanyan. “It’s getting late. You should get some rest first.”

Tong Zhanyan glanced at the sky, now completely dark, then looked toward the rear entrance. He didn’t refuse.

Several hours had passed since the incident began, yet the enemy hadn’t made a move. It was likely they intended to wear them down first; pushing themselves too hard would only play into their hands.

The cafeteria was packed with people—not exactly a place to rest.

“Come to my room.” Qing Jiyue headed toward the door; his quarters were on the back side.

Tong Zhanyan followed.

Aside from the original small building, there were now three dormitory buildings on the back side suitable for living.

Qing Jiyue lived in one of the top-floor rooms of the first building constructed.

With half the people stationed by the river, the small building was now quite quiet.

This was Tong Zhanyan’s first time entering Qing Jiyue’s room.

Upon entering, Tong Zhanyan immediately looked around.

The layout of the rooms was uniform—two bedrooms and a living room—and the furniture had all been purchased by him.

Qing Jiyue had been living there for over a year, and the room still bore many traces of him—such as the bookshelves overflowing with books, the silver-white spear leaning against the wall, and the photograph on the bedside table in the bedroom.

In the photograph, a woman with a gentle smile and soft features was holding a child about four years old.

As the photo was taken, he was looking down at the child in his arms.

Tong Zhanyan recognized the child as Qing Jiyue at a glance.

He looked quite different as a child compared to now. Today, his features were sharp and angular, while as a child, he had short arms and legs, with a fair, soft, and plump appearance.

He tried hard to keep a straight face and act mature, but his bright, expressive eyes were full of liveliness—a clear sign he had grown up in a loving environment.

After leading Tong Zhanyan into the bedroom, Qing Jiyue was about to tuck him in when he noticed his gaze.

“She is…” Tong Zhanyan asked, looking in that direction.

He had never heard Qing Jiyue mention his mother, but as the future Qing Family Head, the subject of everyone’s expectations, the details of Qing Jiyue’s family life were practically common knowledge.

Qing Jiyue’s mother had died when he was four, killed by a beast, a casualty of the breached defenses.

“Mm.” Qing Jiyue lowered his gaze.

Tong Zhanyan sat down beside the bed.

Qing Jiyue headed toward the door. “I’ll be in the living room.”

Tong Zhanyan called out to him. “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Qing Jiyue hesitated for a moment.

He didn’t know when the attack had begun, but dragging it out would only play into the enemy’s hands.

In that brief moment, Tong Zhanyan had already lain down on the bed.

Not knowing what the situation was, he had only taken off his shoes and outer clothes.

Qing Jiyue stared at the half of the bed Tong Zhanyan had deliberately left empty for a moment, then silently closed the door and walked over.

The bed was quite wide, but with two men over six feet tall lying down, it was inevitably a bit cramped.

The moment Qing Jiyue lay down, he caught the scent on Tong Zhanyan’s body; his muscles tensed as he instinctively glanced over.

Tong Zhanyan was looking at him.

As if seeing through his tension, Tong Zhanyan’s eyes were deep and piercing.

“Can you tell me about her?” Tong Zhanyan asked.

Qing Jiyue’s taut nerves slowly relaxed.

He looked up at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts on how to describe the woman he remembered little of yet felt so deeply, “She died… to save me.”

Tong Zhanyan didn’t interrupt; he simply listened and watched in silence.

“The front lines have always been unstable. My house was right next to the shield transfer device… My father wasn’t home that day. The night before, a nearby area had been attacked, so he went to check it out…”

“Suddenly, things got chaotic outside. Right after that, the guards assigned to protect us rushed in, intending to take us to the underground shelter.”

“I was learning to write. When she realized something was wrong, she scooped me up and ran out the door with them. We’d barely stepped outside when the house collapsed, and over a dozen monsters charged toward us…”

“We kept running. People kept falling, but the monsters only gathered in greater numbers because of our fierce resistance… …We were supposed to go to the shelter, but there were too many monsters chasing us. If we went there, we’d only endanger others, so we had no choice but to run somewhere else…”

“After the people protecting us were all killed, my mother started fighting. She was a combatant too—she was really skilled… but there were just too many monsters. Way too many.”

“She was soon covered in wounds… she told me to run.”

“I was terrified and ran for my life… But I couldn’t outrun them. Those monsters were too huge; a single step of theirs was worth half a day’s run for me… she fought desperately to block those monsters…”

Qing Jiyue doesn’t really remember much of what happened after that. He only remembers the sky ablaze with fire, the ever-present stench of blood, the constant roars of the beasts, and how every time he looked back, he saw more wounds on his mother’s body.

Eventually, he managed to escape; the beasts stopped chasing him.

But he couldn’t find his mother anywhere.

He was still young back then, but having been born and raised on the front lines, he already had a vague understanding of death.

He knew that when people died, they would lie motionless on the ground, or simply be devoured and never found again.

They would never come home.

That terrified him, even more than before.

He was afraid his mother would lie motionless on the ground, never hugging him or talking to him again, or that she would be eaten…

By then, he had already successfully summoned a Spirit Beast, but at that time, his Spirit Beast was just as tiny as he was.

But he summoned it anyway, then mustered all his courage to go back and look for his mother.

He didn’t see his mother; there was only a pool of blood and blood-soaked clothes on the ground, with a few strange beasts still licking at them.

He had seen others being devoured before; he knew what that meant. He was terrified, and furious…

By the time his father rushed back, he had nearly torn down every building in the area, including the protective shield conversion device. He had gone berserk.

It took them a long time to get him to recognize his father and sedate him.

“After I woke up, I kept demanding to see my mother… I had just summoned my Spirit Beast at that time, and it was unstable. On top of that, I hadn’t learned to control my power yet, so things were quite chaotic for a long time.”

“Later, my father brought in Chu Yi. His Spirit Beast was also a psychic type; it could release a neurotoxin that instantly rendered all living creatures within range unconscious.”

“My father wanted him to teach me how to control my power, but I wouldn’t cooperate. I just wanted my mother back…”

Qing Jiyue paused. “Chu Yi took me outside the protective barrier, then tossed me into a nest of strange beasts, telling me to go wild.”

Tong Zhanyan’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

Qing Jiyue was only four years old at the time.

Tong Zhanyan suddenly recalled Qing Jiyue’s earlier description of Chu Yi: “Crazy.”

He had been quite surprised that Qing Jiyue would use such a word to describe someone, since he wasn’t the type to curse.

If he was really provoked, he usually just lashed out.

Now that he understood what was going on, Tong Zhanyan had only one thought: from now on, Chu Yi wouldn’t get a single grain of food from him.

Chu Yi was indeed a lunatic—and a seriously ill one at that.

After venting his anger, Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity.

Throughout the entire account, Qing Jiyue’s tone remained calm, pausing only occasionally.

But Tong Zhanyan felt that didn’t mean he had let go; he simply understood deeply that no matter how much he threw a tantrum, his mother would never return.

He had thrown enough tantrums, so he fell silent.

“I’m sorry…” Tong Zhanyan regretted bringing up the subject.

He’d only wanted to understand Qing Jiyue better, and since over a decade had passed, he’d assumed…

Qing Jiyue stared at the ceiling for a moment before saying, “It’s no one’s fault. If there is any fault, it lies with those beasts.”

His father had said those words to him after that, too.

His parents had always had a good relationship. Back then, aside from him, his father must have been suffering deeply as well. But as a father and the Qing Family Head, he had no choice but to suppress his pain.

Tong Zhanyan shifted closer to Qing Jiyue, pulling him into his arms.

It had all been too long ago; words of comfort felt too hollow. All he could do was hold him tightly.

He had always thought Qing Jiyue was remarkable—he never slacked off in training even when no one was supervising him, he was capable and willing to go to the front lines, and despite his youth, he already possessed a high level of awareness.

Now that feeling was even more profound.

Having gone through what they had, if it were him, he might not have had the courage to go back.

Yang Hong and the others felt the same way.

Qing Jiyue buried his head in Tong Zhanyan’s chest. He closed his eyes and quietly breathed in the scent of Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan’s scent held a kind of magic, as if it could soothe everything, calming his heart along with it.

Feeling that tranquility, Qing Jiyue drifted off to sleep without realizing it.

Tong Zhanyan sensed it but didn’t disturb him; he simply closed his eyes as well.

The base was vast, cut off from the clamor of the outside world, and exceptionally quiet after dark.

In such a quiet environment, sleep came easily.

A good night’s sleep.

The next day, Tong Zhanyan woke up feeling a bit dazed.

What about the attack?

It was already fully light outside.

Tong Zhanyan lay in bed for a while longer before getting up.

The room was empty; his toiletries were laid out on the table, along with a note stating that Qing Jiyue was downstairs.

After washing up, Tong Zhanyan went downstairs.

The others were waking up one by one, and since it was breakfast time, the dining hall was bustling.

Tong Zhanyan quickly found Qing Jiyue outside the cafeteria. He was checking his terminal while talking to someone, looking a bit peculiar.

“Tong Zhanyan.” Just as Tong Zhanyan was about to approach, Tian Xinqing spotted him.

Tong Zhanyan looked over.

Upon hearing his name, the crowd inside and outside the cafeteria—which had been bustling—all stopped and turned to look.

Their expressions were equally strange.

Tong Zhanyan was baffled. “What’s going on?”

Tian Xinqing didn’t answer immediately, but instead looked at Tong Zhanyan with a deeply complex expression.

“Ning Langdong?” Tong Zhanyan glanced at Ning Langdong and the others nearby.

“…It seems the people from the Qing Family have figured out what happened.” Ning Langdong paused. “It wasn’t an attack.”

“Then what was it?” Tong Zhanyan asked in surprise, growing even more puzzled by the strange looks from Tian Xinqing and the others.

Their gazes were clearly directed at him.

What was wrong with him?

“They went out to ask around… A lot of people said that before the internet went down, they were participating in a giveaway. It was running smoothly at first, but then it suddenly started lagging, and right after that, the screen went black,” Tian Xinqing said.

A giveaway?

Tong Zhanyan froze for a moment. Could they be referring to the giveaway in his livestream?

He had indeed just announced a new giveaway shortly before the incident, but he’d only intended to find a few people to help with the farming—it couldn’t be that, could it?

Tian Xinqing’s expression was extremely complex. “Did you set something up wrong?”

“What did I set up wrong?” Tong Zhanyan didn’t understand.

“Like the number of participants, or… the eligibility requirements.”

The sudden internet outage threw not only the people inside the base into chaos, but those outside as well.

After the initial shock, a crowd began streaming downstairs, trying to figure out what had happened.

As they talked, they realized the problem: before the outage, they had all been doing the same thing—participating in the giveaway.

“According to the intel we’ve gathered, the number of participants in that raffle had already exceeded 16 million before the internet went down, and it was still skyrocketing…” Tian Xinqing said.

Tong Zhanyan’s livestream already had 40 million followers.

Given that there were only a few tens of millions of people within their protective shield, that figure covered nearly everyone.

And even though those followers had to work during the day and wouldn’t be glued to the livestream 24/7, they’d still check in once or twice a week.

Knowing this, ever since he began assisting Tong Zhanyan with managing the livestream, he had always limited prize draws to specific tiers of fans.

It wasn’t that he was worried about overwhelming the network—he hadn’t even considered that possibility back then—but he simply felt the odds of winning were too low otherwise.

He had also considered what would happen if he didn’t set any odds at all.

Given Tong Zhanyan’s current status and influence in the public eye, he believed the number of participants in a giveaway would surpass 200,000 within ten minutes, and definitely reach a million within twenty minutes.

If it went on for over half an hour, it would easily hit four or five million.

Four or five million in half an hour—Tian Xinqing thought that was already a bold estimate, but over 16 million in forty minutes?

The moment they heard that number, a group of people at the base who had previously been puzzled as to why the internet had gone down suddenly understood.

Who could keep a straight face?

Tong Zhanyan strained to recall exactly how he had set it up at the time, but no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t remember.

All he remembered was that he was busy when Tian Xinqing rushed over and told him they’d discovered a new ant nest…

Unable to recall, Tong Zhanyan felt a chill run down his spine, and a pang of guilt washed over him.

He’d thought they were under attack again and had been on edge for ages…

Seeing Tong Zhanyan’s guilty expression, the crowd of onlookers nearby couldn’t help but smile wryly.

So it really was because of the giveaway?

“I didn’t know it would turn out like this…” Tong Zhanyan said, caught between laughter and tears.

And normally, shouldn’t it have just ended with Green Shade blowing up? How did it end up burning down the public network server, too?

Thinking it over, Tong Zhanyan suddenly realized.

This wasn’t just a matter of clicking a button on the Green Shade interface.

His live stream usually maintained an audience of around a million viewers. Once the giveaway was announced and people realized any account could enter, they immediately sent messages and friend requests to every friend and relative they knew.

Word spreads like wildfire, and with everyone who heard the news logging into Green Shade at the exact same time…

“You didn’t know this would happen—it’s not your fault,” Qing Jiyue said as he approached.

He had already heard about the incident, and the look in his eyes as he looked at Tong Zhanyan was rather peculiar.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t dwell on Qing Jiyue’s protective behavior; he gave a wry smile. “So what do we do now?”

“They must already be working on repairs. This is no small matter,” Qing Jiyue said.

“What about the front lines…” Tong Zhanyan was worried. If the front lines collapsed because the network was down…

“The front lines have radios.” Qing Jiyue explained, “Although they usually only work once we’re outside the protective shield, every outpost is equipped with them. It shouldn’t be a problem for a short-term emergency.”

Tong Zhanyan let out a sigh of relief, but his brow furrowed again almost immediately.

“Don’t worry about the hospital either,” Qing Jiyue said. “The power system and the network system are separate. While it might cause some inconvenience, it won’t be a major issue.”

Tong Zhanyan finally relaxed completely.

Glancing around, he found himself increasingly at a loss for words.

Since when had a single minor mistake of his come to affect the entire world?

It made him feel as if he were dreaming.

Qing Jiyue misunderstood, and he murmured, “Those who participated in the raffle share the blame.”

Tong Zhanyan found it amusing; Qing Jiyue’s mind had truly wandered off to the farthest reaches.

Still, Tong Zhanyan rather enjoyed it, and he couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth curl upward.

Beside them, Ning Langdong and his group couldn’t quite bear to watch; they struggled to suppress the exasperated expressions on their faces.

They discussed matters regarding the fields as they made their way back to the cafeteria.

They would have preferred to return to the fields immediately—the crops were due for harvest—but after some thought, they decided to continue their shifts guarding the base.

Although this was an accident, it was hard to say whether someone might try to take advantage of the chaos in its wake.

It was supposed to be the busy farming season, but suddenly they had time to rest, and everyone was in good spirits.

Amid the lively atmosphere, the group began preparing breakfast.

Only those infected with the frenzy virus ate crops at the base; the uninfected still relied on nutrient solution. Consequently, the base had stockpiled a supply of nutrient solution, so there was no need to go out and buy it at this critical moment.

Half an hour later, Tong Zhanyan and Qing Jiyue carried their breakfast back to Qing Jiyue’s room.

Qing Jiyue was drinking a nutrient solution.

Tong Zhanyan watched as he downed it in two gulps.

“You shouldn’t eat that stuff or crops anymore. I’ve always felt that frenzy is linked to consuming only nutrient solution,” Tong Zhanyan said.

Qing Jiyue glanced at the now-empty nutrient solution bag in his hand. Tong Zhanyan had always been quite resistant to nutrient solution. “I’d rather not.”

Tong Zhanyan was puzzled. “Why?”

“There are too many people at the base.”

Tong Zhanyan’s base now housed over a hundred people, even without counting Gu Yunyang’s group of students. Some had contracted the frenzy, while others hadn’t.

In communal living, making exceptions isn’t appropriate.

“You’re not an outsider,” Tong Zhanyan said.

Qing Jiyue’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, but he remained firm. “Later.”

Ning Langdong and the others were still consuming the nutrient solution; he didn’t want to put Tong Zhanyan in a difficult position.

Tong Zhanyan wanted to say something else, but the words died on his lips.

Ultimately, it all came down to the scarcity of crops.

For those infected with frenzy, eating them was a matter of treatment and survival; for the uninfected, consuming them daily was simply a waste.

This wasn’t something he could resolve with a few words.

As he pondered this, Tong Zhanyan suddenly felt an urge to return to the fields. Once this batch of purple vetch had grown, he could clear the remaining five hundred or so acres of land at the base for the next crop.

By then, he could focus on the issue of yield.

As long as the yield increased, the problem would naturally ease considerably.

Until then…

Tong Zhanyan looked at the books by Qing Jiyue on the bookshelf.

Having learned from the lessons of the Great Cataclysm, physical books were quite common now.

Qing Jiyue’s room was filled with books on first aid and combat, as well as those on treating those in a state of frenzy.

Tong Zhanyan picked up a book at random and flipped through it; Qing Jiyue had studied it very carefully and even taken notes.

Tong Zhanyan asked, “Do you have that teaching manual compiled by Old Xu and the others?”

“Yes.” Qing Jiyue walked over to the bookshelf nearby and pulled out a book.

After taking it and glancing through it, Tong Zhanyan said, “Let me borrow the desk.”

Qing Jiyue stepped aside.

Tong Zhanyan sat down at the desk and opened a new local document on the terminal.

He’d been too busy with the fields to pay much attention to this before, but now that he had the chance, he planned to prepare two sets of exam papers.

Once Gu Yunyang and the others finished studying, they’d hurry back to tend their own crops.

With more people planting, the yield would naturally increase.

A little over an hour later, just as Gu Yunyang and the others were having a great time, they heard the dreaded news that there would be a test.

They were all adults now, and they’d done pretty well on the last test, but their fear of exams hadn’t faded because of that.

Especially those who hadn’t done well last time—their faces went pale the moment they heard the news.

“Considering the last exam was too easy, I’ve deliberately made this one a bit harder,” Tong Zhanyan added. “But for you guys, passing shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Their faces paled even further.

“But without the internet, we can’t print the exam papers,” someone remarked.

Smiles immediately spread across their faces.

“No problem, you can copy them by hand,” Tong Zhanyan said with a smile.

The smiles vanished from their faces.

“But we don’t have pens or paper either,” another person said; the situation had come so suddenly that they were completely unprepared.

Smiles reappeared on their faces.

“No problem, Qing Jiyue has plenty of those,” Tong Zhanyan said with a twinkle in his eye.

Beside them, Qing Jiyue silently walked in carrying a large stack of notebooks.

The group immediately lost their smiles.

“But there are still some people guarding the base…” someone said.

The group looked at him expectantly.

“It’s okay. They can take the test again after their shift ends,” Tong Zhanyan said.

The group lost all trace of a smile.

A moment later, the cafeteria was cleared.

Ning Langdong, Tian Xinqing, and Su Yanran, along with Old Xu and Old Wang, were heading out when Tong Zhanyan, still grinning, intercepted them and handed each of them a set of pen and paper.

Ning Langdong and the others were going to be assisting him with management from now on; knowing more could never hurt.

As for Old Xu and Old Wang, whether they stay to help out or return to the Planting Alliance, having more knowledge is always a good thing.

The five exchanged glances.

They had been at this base far longer than anyone else; they had always been the ones assigning tasks to others and guiding them on many matters.

If they didn’t do well on the exam—if they scored significantly lower than everyone else…

The five of them felt a knot in their stomachs.

With that knot in their stomachs, the five could only sit down with wry smiles.

The exam officially began.

The cafeteria was completely silent, broken only by Tong Zhanyan’s periodic reading of the questions and the scratching of pencils on paper.

Since the questions were handwritten, the exam time was extended to one hour.

An hour later, Tong Zhanyan collected all the answer sheets.

He didn’t leave the cafeteria but began grading the papers right there.

Seeing this, the others—who had just breathed a sigh of relief at the end of the exam—didn’t dare linger in the cafeteria for even a moment and hurried out one after another.

With half the group guarding the base, it took Tong Zhanyan less than an hour to finish grading the remaining papers.

With some time left before lunch, Tong Zhanyan had planned to go over the papers, but a group of students volunteered to go relieve the guards so they could take the exam.

They shouldn’t be the only ones to bear the burden.

This time, Tong Zhanyan didn’t refuse; going over the same set of papers twice was quite tiring.

Then, half an hour later, the group who had been on duty—and were just feeling relieved—were called back.

An hour later, Tong Zhanyan received another batch of exam papers.

While he graded the papers, the others had lunch.

Tong Zhanyan sent Ning Langdong to the small building, where the watermelons he had picked the previous afternoon were still stored.

Half an hour later, the watermelons arrived.

But the group wasn’t really in the mood to eat.

Except for those who had come for the raffle.

Since it didn’t affect them personally, they’d been busy watching the spectacle the whole time.

When it was time to eat in the cafeteria, Tong Zhanyan went back to Qing Jiyue’s room to grade.

An hour later, he finally finished his work, and a lunch plate and a single serving of watermelon appeared before him.

Tong Zhanyan looked up and saw that Qing Jiyue had returned at some point.

Tong Zhanyan picked up a slice of watermelon.

Some watermelons had a high infection rate, while others had a low one. The one he was eating had a low infection rate; it lacked that bitter aftertaste and was exceptionally sweet.

Tong Zhanyan held the watermelon slice up to Qing Jiyue’s lips.

“I’ve already eaten,” Qing Jiyue said.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t pull his hand back.

Qing Jiyue had no choice but to take a bite.

“Sweet, isn’t it?”

“Mm…”

Qing Jiyue glanced at the exam papers. Was Tong Zhanyan in a good mood?

After eating his fill, Tong Zhanyan didn’t go downstairs. He took a nap and then began drafting new exam papers.

Having waited a long time for Tong Zhanyan, Gu Yunyang, and the others—who had eaten their lunch downstairs without even tasting it—grew increasingly restless.

That night, just as Tong Zhanyan was getting ready for bed, his terminal suddenly rang.

Qing Jiyue’s device rang at the same time.

Tong Zhanyan opened it to check, and sure enough, the device was now connected to the internet.

The downstairs area, which had been quiet, instantly became bustling.

Although an internet outage was unusual, they had all grown accustomed to life without the internet.

Tong Zhanyan immediately logged into the Green Grass backend.

He had intended to shut down the previous giveaway. As long as there was an internet connection, even if he didn’t connect his camera or go live, the comment section—and the giveaway feature—would still function.

The internet had only just been restored, and he didn’t know how stable it was yet. If it wasn’t stable enough and the connection dropped again, he feared the number of people wanting to kill him would grow even more.

Once he logged in, Tong Zhanyan discovered that the giveaway had already been shut down and canceled.

The people at Green Shade were even more afraid than he was.

Just as Tong Zhanyan exhaled in relief, he received a message from Tian Xinqing asking if he wanted to turn on the camera now.

Without a second thought, Tong Zhanyan declined, saying they’d deal with it tomorrow.

If he turned on the camera now, who knew how chaotic things would get?

He switched to the live stream’s homepage to take a look.

Sure enough, the comment section below the stream was already buzzing with discussion.

Tong Zhanyan shut down his device and prepared for bed.

As he turned around, he noticed that Qing Jiyue had already gone to the living room to contact Qing Suifeng.

Even though he suspected nothing was wrong, Qing Jiyue couldn’t rest easy until he’d confirmed it.

Tong Zhanyan listened for a while; when it didn’t sound like anything was wrong, he decided to just lie down.

He had originally planned to lie down and wait for Qing Jiyue, but by the time he fell asleep, Qing Jiyue still hadn’t finished.

The next day, when Tong Zhanyan woke up, Qing Jiyue had already gone downstairs.

After Tong Zhanyan went downstairs, he found Qing Jiyue and asked him about the situation on the front lines.

Once he was sure nothing had gone wrong, he checked the livestream.

The camera was back online, the stream had resumed, and things were already bustling.

“This is the first time I’ve realized the internet can actually go down.”

“That gave me a scare—I thought something serious had happened.”

“It was different for me. I spent a full three hours at home trying to figure out why my device suddenly stopped working…”

“Me too. I was ready to buy a new one, but when I came downstairs, I realized everyone was in the same boat.”

“Over ten million people! I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“So does that mean the previous giveaway is canceled? It’s such a rare chance to participate.”

“Me too. So many people camp out in the livestream every day—they’ve logged nearly ten thousand hours online and have such high follower ranks. I have to work, so I really don’t have time, but I’d love to check it out.”

……

After confirming the livestream was running smoothly, Tong Zhanyan turned his attention to the crops.

While they were busy, the crops in the fields continued to grow at their own pace.

Most of the purple vetch had already sprouted, though the shoots were still very small and delicate.

The corn in the seedling trays had also begun to sprout.

Because the seeds were highly viable, even though they were planted later, their sprouts looked just as good as those of the purple vetch.

The corn, pumpkins, and rapeseed in the fields were one step closer to harvest.

By the time Tong Zhanyan finished his rounds, Ning Langdong and the others had already started a new round of harvesting. Many crops become soft once fully ripe, which makes them difficult to transport.

Tong Zhanyan went to help as well.

Just as he was busy, the group from the Paleontology Department contacted him—Crab and Snail might not be able to continue their search.

During the past day or two of no internet connection, they had encountered something incredibly terrifying.

There were monsters in the mountains. They could speak; their voices were incredibly loud, yet their forms were nowhere to be seen.

Tong Zhanyan’s first thought was of those strange beasts they’d encountered before—the ones that imitated humans by wearing clothes and speaking. If it were that creature, then the paleontology team was in grave danger.

Tong Zhanyan immediately asked for details and their exact location, to see if he could get Qing Jiyue to send people over.

Upon hearing this, the paleontology team told him in utter terror that the monsters had said, “ Peas and corn.”