Listening to Tong Zhanyan’s words and seeing the smile on his face, Ning Langdong froze for a moment.

Then, he couldn’t help but laugh.

That was so typical of Tong Zhanyan.

Back then, too, no one believed he could keep those little tomatoes alive, no one believed he could fill the farm, and no one believed he could drive down the prices.

But he had achieved it all.

If he could do it before, he would certainly be able to do it again.

“Go home.” After seeing the group off, Tong Zhanyan closed the door and headed toward his scooter.

Instead of wasting time thinking about that, I’d be better off thinking about what to eat tonight.

Tian Xinqing and his group had also finished work.

In front of the small building, under the cover of night, the group chatted and laughed in small clusters. Those heading back to school went their way, and those heading to the back gate went theirs.

The group who’d won the raffle and were now in a frenzy of excitement discussed what they’d eat that night, their faces glowing with excitement.

They used to have nothing to eat, but now they could choose what to eat; every day felt like a holiday to them.

Tong Zhanyan watched them and found it amusing; they’d simply never tasted anything decent before.

Hot pot, fried chicken, spicy skewers, snail noodles, braised fish, braised meats…

Any one of these would drive them wild with delight.

As he laughed, Tong Zhanyan found himself unable to keep smiling.

With an infection rate under 20%, the number of crops he could eat was growing, but he’d missed the window for rapeseed. It had grown from seeds with a high infection rate, and even the harvest this time had an infection rate of around 30%.

If he wanted to eat it, he’d have to plant another round even after the current crop in the field ripened.

In other words, he wasn’t even as well-off as those people—after all, he hadn’t even gotten to eat rapeseed yet.

As he mulled this over, the boiled stringbeans and steamed eggs he ate that night tasted increasingly bland.

The next day, Tong Zhanyan dug out all the seeds that had been unlocked early in the morning.

Garlic, Sichuan pepper, mint, sesame, cilantro, perilla, star anise, cinnamon…

Most of the seeds released this time were seasonings and spices, and since they were starter seeds, the infection rate was very low; as long as he could get them to sprout, he’d be able to eat them.

Sichuan pepper, star anise, and cinnamon have long growth cycles, so he couldn’t count on them in the short term, but garlic, perilla, mint, sesame, and cilantro could be harvested in two or three months.

He sold off a portion of the seeds; with not much left, Tong Zhanyan planted them all into seedling trays.

After watering them and covering them with plastic sheeting, Tong Zhanyan walked around them several times before finally bringing himself to leave.

He went to check on the wheat.

When it comes to food, wheat is absolutely essential.

A week had passed, and they had grown significantly taller, with half of them already in bloom.

Tong Zhanyan applied fertilizer to the corn and other crops.

Finally, Tong Zhanyan gathered his thoughts and focused his attention on the 500 mu of newly cleared land.

Clearing the land was easy now that he had a tiller, but the subsequent sowing had become a major challenge.

Tong Zhanyan wasn’t about to make things hard on himself; he simply held another lottery, selecting 200 people for a two-day session.

Previously, Tong Zhanyan had never selected more than 100 people in a single draw—this was the first time he’d chosen 200, which sent the entire live stream audience into a frenzy.

“It’s been over two years—a full two years. Surely it’s my turn this time, right?”

“If I don’t get picked this time, I’m going to cry at the base gate.”

“Please, let me win.”

“Seriously, praying to win is no better than praying that Senior will change his mind and start charging for tours.”

“I agree, but I still feel so frustrated—it’s been over two years!”

……

Three days later, the crowd gathered at the entrance.

With 200 winners from this draw, plus the base’s existing 300-plus residents, the total population of the base reached an unprecedented 500-plus people.

The entire base was filled with the sound of voices.

With over 200 people, Tong Zhanyan and Ning Langdong alone couldn’t manage the crowd, so Tong Zhanyan called in Old Xu and Old Wang as well.

As for the harvesting, Tian Xinqing and the others had done it countless times; even without supervision, they wouldn’t make a mistake.

After an hour of free time, Tong Zhanyan led a group of people out to the fields.

The soil had already been turned over, and since this was virgin land, there was no need to dig ditches. Thirty people scattered seeds at the front, while the remaining 170 covered them with soil from behind.

Thanks to the significant difference in numbers on both sides, the progress was just right.

Clover, alfalfa, arrowroot, and turnips all have strong seed-setting capabilities; the seeds harvested from the 300 mu of land were more than enough to cover 500 mu.

This time, Tong Zhanyan didn’t use peanuts or soybeans for clearing the land.

He planned to plant peanuts and soybeans on other plots later, as ordinary crops.

Especially with soybeans, he had to bring the infection rate down as quickly as possible so he could have soy sauce to eat.

By a little past 4:00 p.m. the next day, the last bit of land had been sown.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t waste the remaining time; he led them to pull up the red clover from which seeds had already been harvested and grind them into pulp.

Tong Zhanyan hadn’t mentioned this task when he announced the prize draw, so it came as a pleasant surprise to the group—especially since many flowers in the flower fields were still in full bloom, which made them even more excited.

After taking half an hour to calm down, the group finally got down to work in earnest.

Thanks to their large numbers, by nightfall, over a hundred acres of the three-hundred-acre plot had already been cleared.

That was an unexpected surprise for Tong Zhanyan as well.

After seeing them off, Tong Zhanyan sorted through the remaining seeds that night.

Because the seeds had such strong germination rates, there were quite a few left over; altogether, they could easily plant another hundred or so acres.

Tong Zhanyan set aside seeds for about twenty acres and packed up the rest to hand over to Boss Bai.

The next day, Mr. Bai arrived early in the morning.

Tong Zhanyan took the opportunity to ask him about the previous batch of seeds.

“They sold even better than the crops. They were gone the moment we delivered them. If we hadn’t deliberately distributed them widely, people in many areas probably wouldn’t have even seen them,” Mr. Bai said.

Tong Zhanyan nodded. “That’s good.”

Mr. Bai loaded the seeds into his truck and prepared to leave.

Tong Zhanyan remembered that Mr. Bai also grew crops. “How’s your greenhouse coming along?”

Mr. Bai was also passionate about farming, but since he was primarily in charge of the business side of things, he didn’t have much time to tend to the crops here.

Mr. Bai’s expression suddenly turned strange.

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

“Lately, I’ve been…” Boss Bai trailed off, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Since he didn’t want to talk about it, Tong Zhanyan didn’t press him, only adding, “If you need any seeds, just come straight to me.”

He had never been stingy with Ning Langdong, Gu Yunyang, and the others, and Boss Bai was considered part of the inner circle.

“Thank you…” Mr. Bai’s expression grew even more complex, tinged with a touch of melancholy.

After watching him leave, Tong Zhanyan went back to set aside enough seeds for about ten mu of land, planning to give them to Gu Yunyang and the others later.

These seeds could fix nitrogen and improve the soil; previously, there hadn’t been any surplus, so there was nothing he could do.

Now that there was a surplus, naturally, they wouldn’t be left out.

During the noon break, upon receiving the seeds, Gu Yunyang and his group were so delighted by this unexpected surprise that they practically skipped and jumped with joy; the more impatient ones even dashed straight toward the back gate.

Like Tong Zhanyan, they were learning to farm from scratch, so they understood the importance of fertilizer all the better.

They had all seen with their own eyes that the first crops planted by Tong Zhanyan on the land cleared with purple vetch were indeed better than those grown using only plant ash and eggshell powder.

In the afternoon, Tong Zhanyan scattered the remaining seeds in a circle around the grove by the river.

He also scattered some at the foot of several mountains.

As long as they didn’t grow on his land, Tong Zhanyan actually quite liked those trees and grasses; after all, they were almost nowhere to be seen outside this base.

There were other varieties adapted to the pollution, but they just weren’t the same.

As the fertilizer in his base increased, those trees and grasses looked better than they had at the beginning, but they were still far from the quality he’d known in his previous world.

After sowing the seeds, Tong Zhanyan arranged for a light, steady rain that night, which also watered the newly cleared land.

The next day, Ning Langdong and his group pitched in together, spending the entire day covering the area with plastic sheeting.

Tong Zhanyan always kept plastic sheeting in stock in his warehouse; he didn’t throw away used sheets that were still in decent condition and would occasionally reuse them.

This time, the area was so vast that they emptied the entire warehouse.

After covering the fields, most of Ning Langdong’s group returned to continue sowing and harvesting, while Tong Zhanyan led twenty people to continue pulling out the purple vetch.

A week later, when Tong Zhanyan’s team buried the debris in the soil and covered it with newly purchased plastic sheeting, the wheat was already ready for harvest.

With the experience from the previous two rounds, this time Tong Zhanyan focused solely on testing those eight wheat plants.

The test results came back quickly: three remained unchanged at 75%, while of the remaining five, two were 73%, two were 71%, and one was 68%.

The moment he saw that 68%, Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

With the experience from the previous two rounds, he already knew the infection rate would drop this time, but he had expected it to be around 70%.

A difference of just 2% between 68% and 70% might seem small, but it made all the difference. After all, once the infection rate reached the low 60s, it wasn’t far from falling below 60%.

And theoretically, while 59% was still toxic, it was already safe to eat.

Tong Zhanyan immediately shared this good news with Qing Jiyue and asked for his help.

Qing Jiyue’s ability was truly incredibly useful.

Half an hour later, Qing Jiyue arrived.

Led to the greenhouse, Qing Jiyue couldn’t help but glance back at the corn and wheat growing inside.

Tong Zhanyan’s mind was completely focused on getting back to planting as soon as possible.

Watching Tong Zhanyan like that, Qing Jiyue had a fleeting moment where he wanted to ask him: if a cat, the crops, and himself were all falling into the water, who would Tong Zhanyan save first?

He couldn’t help but feel that his standing in Tong Zhanyan’s heart was a bit precarious.

A slight pang of sadness tugged at his heart, but Qing Jiyue obediently helped clear out the greenhouse and brought in fresh soil.

When he finished and turned around, Tong Zhanyan was already gone.

He looked toward the small house, and sure enough, Tong Zhanyan was already busy sowing seeds.

It would still take some time for the corn seedlings to grow.

Qing Jiyue felt more and more like he was just a tool.

When he was done, he didn’t go to the small house. Instead, he turned around, got on his scooter, and headed straight for the back gate.

After all, his task was complete, and Tong Zhanyan didn’t need him right now.

After riding a short distance, he turned back.

A moment later, he brought over a small stool, sat down beside Tong Zhanyan, and helped him sow the seeds and cover them with soil.

Cats, crops—he was already third after both. If he didn’t step up his game, he might even lose that third-place spot.

“School has been back in session for over a month now,” Qing Jiyue said, breaking the silence.

Tong Zhanyan spent his days from dawn till dusk on farm work, so hearing this news suddenly caught him off guard.

He’d almost forgotten that he was still a student.

“Chu Yi asked you to swing by the school if you have time,” Qing Jiyue said.

Thinking of school, Tong Zhanyan felt a pang of nostalgia. “Sure.”

Qing Jiyue looked down and went back to his work.

Tong Zhanyan glanced at the person sitting beside him, feeling quite cheerful. “We’re in our third year now.”

As a sixth-year senior, he’d be in his eighth year this year.

“Mm.”

“Come to think of it, I’ve never been to the area outside the school, and I’ve never participated in a single live-action training exercise.”

“You want to go?” Qing Jiyue asked, looking at him.

“A little,” Tong Zhanyan said. “Ning Langdong and the others have all been there. I’m pretty curious about what it’s like.”

His Spirit Beast was also of the psychic type, and its abilities seemed quite useful. If he hadn’t chosen cultivation back then but had persisted with training instead, he might be on a completely different path right now.

Qing Jiyue stared quietly at Tong Zhanyan for a moment before lowering his gaze. “When I have time, I’ll go with you.”

In a way, this base was also a shackle; because of it, Tong Zhanyan couldn’t go anywhere.

Qing Jiyue paused, then added, “Wherever you want to go or whatever you want to do, just tell me. I’ll go with you.”

Tong Zhanyan looked at him; Qing Jiyue seemed a bit strange.

Though he didn’t understand what was going on, Tong Zhanyan spoke with a serious expression, “Qing Jiyue.”

Qing Jiyue looked up.

“The base has been fully developed. In a little while, I should start to have more free time. When that happens, let’s go explore together—just the two of us.”

Qing Jiyue visibly froze for a moment, but the next instant, his features relaxed, and his movements became noticeably lighter. “Okay.”

Tong Zhanyan silently breathed a sigh of relief, while simultaneously trying to figure out exactly what had just happened.

He couldn’t quite make sense of it, but Tong Zhanyan’s mood remained cheerful nonetheless.

He had been endlessly busy before because the base had nothing to begin with, and building something from scratch is always hard work.

But now that all the land has been cleared and the basic infrastructure is gradually improving, things will slowly get better from here on out.

Especially when it comes to fertilizer.

Previously, he had relied on the previous crop to nourish the next. But now that all 1,000-plus mu of land at the base had been cleared, once a single crop cycle was completed—and with no further land to clear for the next batch—there would certainly be a surplus of fertilizer.

At that point, the surplus fertilizer could better nourish the crops in the fields, and the soil itself would become richer as a result.

With just a couple more crop cycles, it won’t be long before the entire base is transformed into “green manure fields.”

Once that happens, the need for strict flower and leaf pruning will diminish.

His current practice of pruning flowers and leaves is largely driven by fertilizer shortages, beyond what is strictly necessary for management.

In his previous world, where fertilizer was plentiful, most farmers wouldn’t bother pruning at all, as the crops would regulate themselves.

They aren’t foolish enough to keep blooming until they exhaust themselves.

Aside from fertilizer, the second major challenge—pollination—is something Tong Zhanyan plans to try to handle on his own with this batch.

Beyond fertilizer and pollination, there are sowing, fertilizing, weeding, and harvesting.

Once fertilizer supplies are sufficient, he can also consider using a sprinkler system directly.

With ample fertilizer, the process of transplanting certain crops can be skipped, making sowing much easier.

In that case, aside from certain peak farming seasons, they should have plenty of free time the rest of the year.

The greenhouse covered only about one mu of land, and with Qing Jiyue’s help, the seeds were sown in less than half a day.

Envisioning that bright future, Tong Zhanyan finished his own tasks and joined Ning Langdong and the others.

Including the plot where the purple vetch is currently decomposing, the total area actually used for crops now amounts to five hundred mu.

This time, he planned to plant twenty mu each of rapeseed, corn, pumpkin, and sweet potato, totaling eighty mu.

That sounds like a lot, but on the basis of five hundred mu, it doesn’t even account for one-fifth of the total.

The watermelons had already been planted, taking up ten mu.

All told, there were still over four hundred and ten mu of land remaining.

Converted into crops, that meant at least one or two million jin—a figure that was thrilling just to hear. But when it came to the actual planting, it was a daunting task.

Ning Langdong and his team had been sowing seeds ever since Tong Zhanyan began clearing the land.

Now, Tong Zhanyan had already gone through a full cycle of work, yet they still hadn’t finished sowing.

What was even more of a headache was that while they hadn’t finished sowing here, the seedlings from the first batch had already grown to over ten centimeters—nearly ready for transplanting.

Tong Zhanyan drew lots to assign teams, then led two hundred people into the fields.

Two hundred people—even if they weren’t seasoned workers—their efficiency was nothing to scoff at.

Two days later, all the seeds were in the seedling trays.

Ning Langdong and his team took a day off.

Tong Zhanyan took the opportunity to rotate the crew.

The next day, the group began transplanting and relocating the seedlings.

As the cultivated area expanded, in addition to corn, pumpkins, and sweet potatoes, Tong Zhanyan skipped the transplanting process for crops like chili peppers, yardlong beans, and bitter melons—which had already been grown through multiple cycles and had established seed viability.

That alone cut the workload in half.

Rotating crews every three days—two hundred people at a time—by the time Tong Zhanyan reached his fourth rotation, all the crops had been planted in the fields.

While Ning Langdong and the others took a day off, Tong Zhanyan hurried to transplant the corn into the greenhouse.

Perhaps having seen him finish his work in the livestream, the team from the Paleontology Department contacted him that night.

Their search operations were nearly complete, and they would be sending over the crabs and other specimens they’d found in the past couple of days.

Two days later, they arrived at the door.

With the experience gained earlier, the subsequent search was much simpler, so the number of specimens delivered this time was quite substantial.

There were a total of twenty-two crabs of two species, forty-two snails, six four-tone cuckoos, and seven gray magpies.

Tong Zhanyan released the four-tone cuckoos and gray magpies, and quarantined the rest.

The paleontology team hurried over to check on the bees and ants.

The cabbage white butterflies were of particular concern. They had been in excellent condition while confined in the greenhouse, but after being released into the open space, they had scattered and become scarce.

This made them a bit worried—they hoped nothing had gone wrong.

Tong Zhanyan found it amusing; if cabbage white butterflies were that prone to trouble, the people in his previous world wouldn’t have had such a headache with them.

But explaining this to them would be pointless, so he just let them be.

This time, Tong Zhanyan didn’t follow the others; instead, he joined Ning Langdong and the others to remove the plastic sheeting covering the purple vetch and other plants they’d sown earlier.

They had already sprouted.

In the evening, as the group dragged the plastic sheeting back to the cottage, Tong Zhanyan took a detour to the riverbank.

The red clover he’d scattered in the woods had also sprouted, though without soil or plastic sheeting, the growth was sparse, with the tallest shoots barely reaching four or five centimeters.

The paleontology team was waiting at the cottage entrance.

The cabbage white butterflies were clearly doing well; everyone had smiles on their faces.

Old Xu and Old Wang couldn’t stand seeing them smile—when they smiled, it never meant anything good—so they put down their things and walked away.

Tong Zhanyan went over.

Things were indeed looking good.

The next batch of cabbage white butterflies is estimated to increase five or sixfold. They hadn’t found any lacewings, parasitic flies, or scarab beetles, but after asking Gu Yunyang and the others, they confirmed that they usually see them.

As for the dung beetles, Ning Langdong and the others had previously discovered two nests near the septic tank; the group scanned the area and found that the numbers had increased.

Ants and bees were the first to be introduced to the base; now, with every production cycle, their numbers at least double, and the colonies have grown quite substantial.

The bees, which Tong Zhanyan was most concerned about, have now been confirmed to number over 50,000.

They also checked on the crabs, but aside from the snails, they didn’t find any of the others.

The area Tong Zhanyan had allocated to them was quite large, and part of it was still underwater, making it difficult to search even if they wanted to.

This was especially true for the flying species, the four-tone cuckoo and the gray magpie.

The mosquitoes were too small, so they didn’t find those either.

After reporting the situation, the group didn’t leave immediately. Instead, they looked at Tong Zhanyan with eager anticipation, hoping to pitch him the remaining ancient creatures from their base.

They could tell Tong Zhanyan didn’t like the red spider, so they didn’t mention it this time. However, aside from that, they still had plenty of others.

Like cockroaches.

Tong Zhanyan almost cursed.

After seeing them off, Tong Zhanyan began seriously considering the possibility of bringing over the remaining specimens from the ancient creature base.

There were still some beneficial ancient creatures left, such as dragonflies.

Pests are certainly annoying, but they can also serve as food; for instance, lacewings and scarab beetles feed on red spiders.

From an ecological perspective, these creatures aren’t inherently good or bad—they simply serve different purposes.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t rush to make a decision; instead, he arranged for a rain shower first, as the purple vetch had just emerged from its seed pods and needed irrigation.

That night, as the rain fell and Tong Zhanyan was fast asleep, there was a knock at the door.

It was Su Yanran.

The sow was about to give birth.

He had originally tried to contact Tong Zhanyan via the terminal, but the sound of the rain was likely too loud for Tong Zhanyan to hear.

Tong Zhanyan hurriedly got dressed and followed him downstairs. “How long has this been going on?”

“I figured it would be around this time. I’ve been keeping an eye on her. I checked once before bed, and she was fine, but when I set an alarm to check just now, she was already pacing. I’d guess it’s been at least an hour or two…”

Once downstairs, Tong Zhanyan dug out his raincoat, put it on, and headed toward the pigsty in the rain.

A few minutes later, as soon as he entered the pigsty, he heard the sow’s squeals.

Tong Zhanyan looked inside the pen; the sow was already lying down.

Tong Zhanyan quickly opened his terminal and contacted the staff at the breeding farm.

Forget about breeding—even giving birth carries certain risks. Don’t try to handle it yourself without professional knowledge.

It was past 2 a.m., and the staff at the breeding farm were asleep. It would take them some time to get here after being woken up.

After making the call, Tong Zhanyan looked back into the pig pen.

The head of the first piglet was already visible.

The sow, having gained some experience, was no longer as restless as before and lay quietly on the ground.

Su Yanran frowned. “I want to learn pig farming.”

Tong Zhanyan glanced at him.

“Always relying on others isn’t a solution, and they’re too far away. If something really happens, it’ll be too late by the time they get here.” Su Yanran looked at Tong Zhanyan earnestly.

Tong Zhanyan took another look at the sow in the pigpen, then nodded. “Alright.”

The only question was whether there were any courses available on livestock farming.

Besides, he had little faith in this world’s farming techniques.

Just as the second piglet emerged, Tong Zhanyan’s terminal finally rang. He hurried to the front gate to pick up the visitor.

The rain hadn’t stopped at the base; only the streetlights were faintly visible.

The utility vehicle had a roof, which saved a lot of trouble.

The temperature inside the protective shield was always maintained between 15 and 25 degrees, but after the rain, it had dropped, making it a bit chilly.

Tong Zhanyan had already warned the few people at the farm when he contacted them, but they were still dressed a bit too lightly.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much of a draft inside the pigsty.

After entering, they scanned the area first.

There were even more piglets this time than last—a full eleven of them—which left the group wide-eyed.

After the initial surprise, the group waited patiently.

The sow was even less aggressive than last time, so they didn’t feel it was their place to intervene.

Eleven piglets—even with the birth going relatively smoothly—took a full three hours.

By the time the last afterbirth was expelled, nearly four hours had passed.

By then, the sow had already licked all the piglets clean.

The newborn piglets hadn’t opened their eyes yet, but they were already suckling instinctively. The sow didn’t seem as unfamiliar as last time; after licking them clean, he lay down to one side.

It was a rather heartwarming sight.

Tong Zhanyan walked the farmhands to the gate and took the opportunity to ask them about their studies.

There really is a school for livestock farming—a four-year program, just like the Sidi Military Academy—but the tuition isn’t cheap, and admission isn’t open to just anyone.

After all, livestock is only slightly cheaper than crops; it’s practically a luxury item.

Su Yanran was studying for the sake of the base, and naturally, Tong Zhanyan was footing the bill.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t mind the expense, but four years by the time Su Yanran finished his studies, who knew how many litters those pigs would have produced.

After giving it some thought, Tong Zhanyan asked the farm staff if Su Yanran could train there instead.

Theoretical knowledge wasn’t a priority; what mattered most was practical application and hands-on experience.

The idea of a “luxury single room” with ten square meters per chicken—if Su Yanran were to master that level of detail, it would give him a headache.

The group didn’t give him an immediate answer, saying only that they’d discuss it among themselves.

After returning, Tong Zhanyan brought the matter up with Su Yanran.

Su Yanran had no objections.

Anyone with eyes could see that the pigs and chickens at Tong Zhanyan’s base were completely different from those raised by others.

Half an hour later, the rain stopped. When a group of people who had woken up at dawn came over to help feed the pigs and chickens, they discovered that a sow had given birth.

The group tiptoed forward cautiously to take a look.

Since a sow that had just given birth shouldn’t eat too much, Su Yanran only gave her some water.

Tong Zhanyan watched for a while longer before returning to the small house.

At noon, the farm contacted Tong Zhanyan to say that Su Yanran could come over to learn, and the tuition would be waived; they also wanted to buy more chicken, duck, and goose eggs from him.

The chicks hatched from the eggs they’d previously purchased from Tong Zhanyan had a significantly lower infection rate than others; the lowest recorded rate was only around 15%.

That was already considered very low in the farming industry, and such birds would be carefully protected as breeding stock.

Tong Zhanyan readily agreed; he had plenty of eggs to spare.

They had actually considered buying a couple of piglets from Tong Zhanyan as well, but piglets from the same litter couldn’t be bred with each other, and using their own stock for breeding would raise infection rate concerns.

Once the matter was settled, Tong Zhanyan would discuss it with Su Yanran later that evening.

As for the specific training schedule and details, Tong Zhanyan simply told Su Yanran to discuss them directly with the team.

Su Yanran had always been level-headed, so he didn’t need to worry about him. Tong Zhanyan immediately turned his attention to another task: the pig pens.

As more land was cleared at the base, raising a few more pigs was a good idea. However, the existing pens were already full, so new piglets meant building new pens.

Tong Zhanyan contacted the construction crew directly.

He had set aside space during the initial land clearing, and since they were ready to start, he planned to build four rows of fifty pig pens.

Considering that the next batch of land covered over a thousand mu, he decided to have them build thirty septic tanks as well.

This would give him a total of one hundred individual pig pens and fifty septic tanks.

The construction crew had experience with both types of projects, so after giving his instructions, Tong Zhanyan went to attend to other matters.

Tong Zhanyan contacted the paleontology team and informed them that he planned to take over all paleontological operations at their base.

Upon hearing the news, even through the screen, Tong Zhanyan could hear the person he was speaking with jump to his feet with a thud. “Really? That’s great—that’s absolutely fantastic…”

As he spoke, the man seemed to realize something and hurried off to call the others.

Tong Zhanyan waited a moment, letting their initial excitement subside, before continuing.

He could take care of the creatures, but the old rules still applied.

How they were raised was entirely up to him.

The group agreed almost without a second thought.

Those ancient creatures could only pitifully eat synthetic food that didn’t suit their tastes where they were, but with Tong Zhanyan, they could eat crops to their heart’s content—anyone could see which option was the better choice.

As for raising mosquitoes to feed the fish and the like, as long as it was beneficial to them overall, they were willing to accept it.

“Additionally, you can try to find some beneficial insects as well. As long as you can find them, I’ll take them off your hands,” Tong Zhanyan said.

When it comes to ecosystems, the more diverse the species, the harder they are to disrupt, because substitutes will naturally emerge.

“Well…”

“Alright, we’ll go look for them tomorrow.”

Tong Zhanyan had intended to say there was no need to rush, but seeing the reddening rims of everyone’s eyes, he swallowed the words before they left his mouth.

After giving a few more instructions, Tong Zhanyan ended the call.

Two days later, seeing that the crabs delivered later had been mostly quarantined, Tong Zhanyan called a few people to help carry the supplies to the lakeside.

Before they even got close, the group—who had been chatting and laughing—fell silent, their brows furrowing.

It turned out that the nets Tong Zhanyan had used to separate the fish and crabs had collapsed in one section, allowing the water to flow directly through.

The culprit behind all this was a dead branch nearly as thick as an adult’s arm and about two or three meters long.

The branch must have been washed down from the mountains by the stream; after falling into the lake, it had drifted all the way to the containment net.

The net hadn’t been buried very deeply to begin with, especially the section submerged in the river, which was merely weighted down with stones—it simply couldn’t withstand the impact.

After seeing the mess in the river, the group looked at Tong Zhanyan with concern.

As the aquatic plants and algae in the lake had grown, they were now only feeding the fish vegetable leaves every two days. It was unclear how long the net had been overturned, and separating them now would be difficult.

Searching for things in the water is no easy task compared to searching on land.

Those fish and shrimp might have already swum out into the river.

Tong Zhanyan was indeed a bit troubled by this, but he soon let it go.

He ordered everyone to remove all the nets immediately.

He also instructed them to simply toss the newly brought-in crabs into the lake or along the shore.

He had originally planned to keep them in quarantine for six months or a year, waiting until their respective populations had grown large enough to develop resilience before lifting the quarantine.

Now that things had turned out this way, he might as well go with the flow.

As for whether some of the species at the top of the food chain would be eaten to extinction, that was entirely up to them.

Even if he had kept them in quarantine, they might have all died just because they were in a bad mood.

After retrieving the nets, the group headed back.

Tong Zhanyan walked around the lake once, then followed the stream for a while before heading to the watermelon field.

The lake wasn’t far from the watermelon field; it was only a few minutes’ drive.

Previously, the area between the two sites had been vast stretches of barren yellow earth, but now that all the land in the base had been cultivated, the roads were lined with young plants like purple vetch, transforming the landscape completely.

The watermelons had been planted early, and some were now nearing maturity, including the ones in this row.

This batch of seeds was plentiful; he’d planted seven or eight mu of watermelons alone, and he planned to sell a portion of the crop.

After walking around and estimating how long it would be before harvest, Tong Zhanyan returned to the small house.

When he arrived, Ning Langdong and his group were just finishing up for the day.

Tong Zhanyan spotted Old Jin, which reminded him of Boss Bai.

Mr. Bai still hadn’t come to pick up the seeds.

Tong Zhanyan stepped forward and asked about the situation.

“Him?” Old Jin’s expression grew strange.

“Has something happened to him?” Tong Zhanyan asked, a touch of concern in his voice.

Mr. Bai had helped him a great deal in the early days, and now he was even working for him. If something happened to Mr. Bai and he didn’t know about it, then as his boss, he’d be somewhat derelict in his duties.

“It’s not that exactly, it’s just…” Old Jin’s features grew increasingly twisted, looking as if he wanted to speak but was too embarrassed to do so. “Why don’t you go ask him yourself?”

“What’s going on exactly?” Tong Zhanyan pressed.

“He’s also growing crops, you know that, right?” Old Jin asked.

“I know,” Tong Zhanyan nodded. He had even visited Mr. Bai’s greenhouse back then.

“Lately, he’s been thinking about… giving up farming.”

“Giving up?” Tong Zhanyan was taken aback. “Why?”

Old Jin’s mouth twitched. “…He’s been learning farming from you all this time. All our friends… And all our friends have been doing pretty well with their crops, but he…”

Tong Zhanyan furrowed his brow, waiting.

“…Even now, he still can’t get much to grow—not even the most basic cherry radishes or bok choy.”

After a pause, Old Jin added, “We all thought that if he just gave up and stopped bothering with it, more of his plants might actually survive.”

Old Jin added, “Because of this, he seems to have taken it really hard and wants to give up.”

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Hiii!! With other stories about to end, here are our new ones. Check them out:

Global Survival: From a Small Wooden Cabin to a Magic Farm
Island Survival: Life-Type Player Farms and Hoards Goods.
Lord of the Wastelands
Transmigrating to the Beast World to Farm and Raise a Wolf