Over an hour later, when Tong Zhanyan finished his work and carried the dishes out, a crowd had already formed.

They had long since sensed from the aroma that this meal was different from the previous ones; this time, the food carried a peculiar fragrance.

Unlike the heat that penetrated to the soul, this fragrance stirred every cell in their bodies, making them unable to resist taking deep breaths over and over again.

Tong Zhanyan grabbed a tray and went to serve himself and Qing Jiyue.

Seeing this, the others immediately followed suit.

After eating their fill, Tong Zhanyan, as usual, took Qing Jiyue for a stroll by the lake.

As the purple vetch Tong Zhanyan had sown along the lakeshore and at the foot of the mountain had grown and begun to bloom, there was now virtually no bare ground left in the base—except for the fields and the mountains themselves.

Especially along the lake and stream banks, where he had sown aquatic plants, lush greenery now provided ample shade.

The sky had not yet fully darkened; the lake’s surface reflected the reeds and water plants on both shores, and a gentle breeze swept by, refreshing the soul.

As they walked along, Tong Zhanyan was just about to find a spot to sit down when the deep, still water suddenly splashed.

Tong Zhanyan glanced over and caught only a fleeting glimpse of white.

Instantly, Tong Zhanyan lost all desire to sit down and rest. After scanning the area, he led Qing Jiyue toward the woods at the foot of the mountain.

It was even darker inside the woods than outside; it was pitch black.

Qing Jiyue was a bit puzzled, but he followed him in anyway.

Tong Zhanyan kept his eyes fixed on the branches, walking and stopping intermittently, until they had circled around to the area where Ning Langdong’s mother and Qing Jiyue’s grandfather were.

It was now completely empty.

To be more precise, aside from a few large cages placed separately, there was only Ning Langdong.

He must have come over for a walk after dinner, taking the opportunity to check on things.

Over the past two months, his mother had regained consciousness several times, and the duration of those moments had been growing longer. However, likely due to the prolonged severity of his infection, she had not yet returned to her human form.

So Ning Langdong didn’t approach; he simply found a spot in the distance to sit down.

Tong Zhanyan glanced over from the woods, then turned and walked back.

“What are you looking for?” Qing Jiyue asked.

“A fishing rod.”

“What?” Qing Jiyue didn’t understand.

“It’s the pole used for fishing…” Tong Zhanyan stopped mid-sentence, realizing Qing Jiyue probably wouldn’t get it—after all, fish were a rarity in this world. “A stick that’s fairly straight and long, but not too thick.”

Qing Jiyue couldn’t picture what Tong Zhanyan meant by “fishing,” but he did understand the second part of the sentence.

Qing Jiyue walked a little further into the woods to help with the search.

Although they were in the mountains, the grassy areas were concentrated on the outskirts, and there were no dangerous snakes or insects in the woods, so Tong Zhanyan let him be.

Half an hour later, Qing Jiyue’s voice came from deeper inside.

Tong Zhanyan went over to take a look.

Qing Jiyue had found a few clumps of bamboo.

“Will this work?” Qing Jiyue asked, pointing to one that was only as thick as a thumb.

Tong Zhanyan was quite surprised; he hadn’t even known there was bamboo in here. But after taking a couple of steps back and looking up, he understood.

When they built this base, Old Xu and the others had brought in all sorts of random things, but they didn’t really know much about them, so they were basically just mixed together.

These clumps of bamboo were mixed in with the trees, and since they were stunted from lack of nutrients—neither large nor tall—they were completely invisible from the outside.

“It’ll work.” Tong Zhanyan stepped forward. “Find another one.”

Qing Jiyue walked over to the other clumps of bamboo nearby.

Only then did he realize he hadn’t brought his knife.

After a moment’s thought, he summoned his Spirit Beast.

“Do me a favor and burn through here,” Tong Zhanyan said, pointing at the base of the bamboo. “Don’t burn anything else.”

The chicken glanced at Tong Zhanyan, shook its feathers, and ignored him.

A smile tugged at Tong Zhanyan’s lips; he felt an urge to take it along to watch a chicken being slaughtered.

“Is this one okay?” Qing Jiyue’s voice came from inside.

Tong Zhanyan walked over; Qing Jiyue had found another one of similar size. “That’ll do.”

After a moment’s pause, Tong Zhanyan added, “We’ll come back tomorrow with a knife to handle this.”

Bamboo is different from trees; its fibers are too dense, making it difficult to snap without damaging other parts.

Qing Jiyue looked at Tong Zhanyan’s Spirit Beast. “Can you help us break it?”

The chicken looked at Qing Jiyue, then at Tong Zhanyan, and strode proudly toward the bamboo stalk Tong Zhanyan had just pointed out.

A small blue flame flared up, and the bamboo snapped immediately.

The bamboo grew at the edge; being slender and short, its upper leaves hadn’t become entangled with the others. Once the base was severed, it fell straight to the side.

The chicken didn’t look back but strolled leisurely toward another one.

Tong Zhanyan’s mouth twitched slightly; he made up his mind to bring the chicken along the next time he slaughtered one.

The other bamboo stalk grew closer to the center; its upper leaves were intertwined with the others, so it didn’t fall over immediately.

However, due to malnutrition, it had few branches, so it didn’t take much effort for Tong Zhanyan to pull it down.

After dragging it over to join the other one, Tong Zhanyan hoisted them onto his shoulders and headed toward his mobility scooter.

A few minutes later, at the back door of the cafeteria.

Tong Zhanyan whittled away all the branches from the tops of the two bamboo poles, leaving only the main stems.

It had to be said, those two bamboo poles were quite beautiful.

Fearing someone might take them, Tong Zhanyan dragged them straight upstairs.

Fortunately, they were only about three meters long, so they fit perfectly in the living room.

Fishing line was harder to find, since it wasn’t something people used often.

Qing Jiyue helped brainstorm, but after much thought, they couldn’t come up with anything suitable.

Tong Zhanyan had no choice but to search online.

There wasn’t any specialized fishing line available online, but Tong Zhanyan found some transparent thread used for crafts.

For the hook, Tong Zhanyan simply bought an embroidery needle.

For the float, Tong Zhanyan bought a toy foam ball about the size of a ping-pong ball, planning to thread it onto the line himself later.

After a good rest and a delicious meal, the group was full of energy the next day.

When Tong Zhanyan arrived at the small house, Old Xu had already assigned tasks: some were weeding and picking flowers and leaves, while others were applying fertilizer.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t join in; instead, he transplanted the corn into the greenhouse and picked up some herbs while he was at it.

He was in charge of all the seasonings.

By the time he finished, it was already past six in the evening.

Tong Zhanyan ate a quick meal and immediately headed toward the back door.

As he approached, he got out of the car but hadn’t yet made it upstairs when he spotted Qing Jiyue carrying his luggage up the stairwell.

Tong Zhanyan immediately realized that Qing Suifeng had finally arrived.

Tong Zhanyan had been mentally preparing for this for over two months, yet at this very moment, he still felt a wave of hesitation.

He chose to follow his heart and got back in the car to return to the small house.

The rapeseed had long since been harvested and had lost its flavor.

After going upstairs, Tong Zhanyan sent Qing Jiyue a text message.

Qing Jiyue didn’t say anything.

The next afternoon, the fishing line and embroidery needles Tong Zhanyan had ordered arrived.

He quickly contacted Qing Jiyue to ask when it would be convenient to pick up the bamboo and his own clothes.

Since there were many people coming and going at the base, he had plenty of disposable toiletries, but he needed to take his clothes back.

Qing Jiyue replied quickly, saying he would bring them over.

Tong Zhanyan asked Qing Jiyue to bring them to the lakeside; he had just the thing to show him.

After their conversation, Tong Zhanyan glanced at Tian Xinqing and the others, who were bustling about, grabbed a bucket, and took the embroidery needle, thread, and ball with him, heading toward the lakeside with a slightly guilty conscience.

Half an hour later, just as Tong Zhanyan had finished bending the embroidery needle into the shape of a fishhook, he heard the sound of a mobility scooter.

“Qing Jiyue, over here,” Tong Zhanyan called out quickly.

The reeds were too thick and too tall; if you weren’t looking carefully, you’d never find him.

A moment later, footsteps sounded behind Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan turned around. “I’ll show you how to play—”

Tong Zhanyan’s smile froze. The person standing behind him, carrying his luggage and holding a bamboo pole, had long hair too, but it wasn’t Qing Jiyue—it was Qing Suifeng.

It had been a while since they’d seen each other, but Qing Suifeng hadn’t changed much.

Qing Suifeng gave a faint smile. “Xiao Yue is busy, so he asked me to bring these over.”

As he spoke, Qing Suifeng placed the luggage away from the lakeshore and carried the bamboo pole to the water’s edge, where Tong Zhanyan was sitting.

Tong Zhanyan instantly realized that Qing Jiyue had done this on purpose.

Tong Zhanyan felt a chill run down his spine, but he wasn’t so intimidated that he could barely speak. “Have you ever fished before?”

Qing Suifeng shook his head.

Tong Zhanyan patted the grass beside him, picked up the fishing rod, and began tying the line to the hook and attaching the float to the bamboo pole.

Qing Suifeng sat down beside him and watched him work.

Fishing does require some skill, and Tong Zhanyan was just an amateur.

But it was enough to fool Qing Suifeng, who didn’t even know what fishing was, and those silly fish in the lake who were just as clueless.

Once the fishing rod was ready, Tong Zhanyan casually plucked two blades of grass, tied them into a small bundle, hooked them onto the line, and handed one of the rods to Qing Suifeng.

“Like this…” Tong Zhanyan said, casting the bait from his own rod into the water.

The hook, with the grass still attached, sank straight into the lake. One and a half of the three floats were pulled down, but it settled steadily.

The grass carp had been three fingers wide when they bought it, and since then, it had been nearly a year—it was ready to be eaten.

Qing Suifeng, finding it quite fascinating, mimicked Tong Zhanyan’s movements as he cast his rod out. “Are you trying to catch those fish in the water?”

Although Qing Suifeng had been away from the base for quite some time, he still watched the livestreams—or, to be more precise, there wasn’t a single person who didn’t watch the livestreams from Tong Zhanyan’s base.

It had become a daily routine for all of them.

“Yeah,” Tong Zhanyan replied. “If a fish bites the hook, those little balls will move, and you’ll feel it too. Once a fish is hooked, remember to keep the line taut—if you slacken your grip, they’ll get away. But don’t pull it too tight either, or the line might snap. Wait until they’ve worn themselves out, then reel them in.”

“Will that really work?” Qing Suifeng was incredulous. Were those fish just that stupid…?

“You’ll find out if you try.” Tong Zhanyan didn’t bother explaining; just as he said, you’d find out if you tried.

For a moment, the lakeside fell silent.

The floats in the water were still as well.

“Did you have a fight with Xiao Yue?” Qing Suifeng suddenly asked.

“No…”

“Oh, so it’s because I’m here?”

Tong Zhanyan nearly choked on his breath.

Gritting his teeth, Tong Zhanyan turned his head to glance over. Qing Suifeng was quietly watching the ball on his fishing rod bobbing on the lake’s surface, as if to say the weather was nice.

In that instant, Tong Zhanyan felt like he wanted to die.

He’d completely forgotten that his base was broadcasting the entire thing live.

Qing Suifeng probably already knew about that little incident between him and Qing Jiyue—not only knew, but had likely watched the whole thing unfold…

“You don’t mind?” Tong Zhanyan managed to squeeze out after a long pause.

A smile tugged at Qing Suifeng’s lips. “Actually, I’m quite happy for him. He’s found someone he loves.”

The Qing Family, Jifei’s death, the fact that he and Qing Jiyue’s grandfather had been infected with frenzy—his own extraordinary abilities… There was simply too much weighing down on Qing Jiyue.

If Tong Zhanyan hadn’t appeared, if everyone had continued down their predetermined paths, Qing Jiyue’s remaining life would have been destined to be tragic.

After all, the more high-pressure the environment, the easier it is to be infected by frenzy, and Qing Jiyue’s future path had long been set.

But Tong Zhanyan appeared.

He just suddenly appeared.

Then, relying solely on his own strength, using methods that remain incomprehensible even when looking back now, he forcibly tore open a completely different path.

Not only did he carve out a path of his own, but he also ruthlessly turned their world upside down, dragging them along with him onto a brand-new path toward life.

“I’m glad, too, that the person he met was you,” Qing Suifeng said, looking at Tong Zhanyan.

Being praised and acknowledged by the father of the person he loved—this was a first for Tong Zhanyan, even if he combined both of his lifetimes. It left him feeling a bit at a loss.

Qing Suifeng shifted his gaze to the lake.

“Thank you…” Tong Zhanyan said.

“It’s moving.” Qing Suifeng suddenly grew tense.

Tong Zhanyan froze for a moment before realizing what was happening; he hurriedly looked into the lake.

Sure enough, the float on the fishing rod Qing Suifeng was holding was being pulled downward.

“Don’t move, steady it—” Tong Zhanyan hadn’t finished speaking when the float was yanked to the side. “Hold it steady—”

This was Qing Suifeng’s first time dealing with something like this, and he was flustered.

Fearing the fish would escape, Tong Zhanyan rushed over to help.

After a chaotic struggle, the fish was dragged to the shore.

Tong Zhanyan quickly grabbed a bucket, filled it with water, and scooped the fish into it.

Once everything was settled, both of them breathed a sigh of relief and couldn’t help but laugh.

It happened so suddenly that both of them were startled.

Once they’d recovered, Qing Suifeng got curious and started pulling grass to try making bait just like Tong Zhanyan had done.

Tong Zhanyan watched from the side, offering a tip or two now and then.

After the fishing hook was cast back into the lake, the two quickly started chatting again.

This time, however, neither of them brought up the previous topic; instead, they spoke of Yang Hong and the others.

The return of Yang Hong, Wang Yanzhou, and their group meant far more than simply adding a few more combatants to the front lines.

As the frenzy grew increasingly severe, recruiting for the front lines had actually become more difficult year by year—after all, it wasn’t just a matter for one person, but one that affected the entire family.

But now, things were different.

This year, recruitment figures for the front lines have risen significantly.

The Four Great Families would provide some compensation to those infected with frenzy on the front lines, but that small sum meant nothing for the rest of those people’s lives or for their families.

But now it was different.

The Four Great Families were discussing the establishment of a channel through which they would collectively purchase crops and supply them to those infected with frenzy on the front lines at internal prices.

This idea was inspired by Tong Zhanyan.

In response, Tong Zhanyan indicated he could offer some assistance, such as allocating a certain percentage of crops exclusively for the front lines.

He offered Yang Hong and his group an internal price—since the group was small and there was no need to worry about affecting external stakeholders—so he provided it at a 20% discount.

If he were to supply the Four Great Families, provided they genuinely used the crops for those on the front lines, he could offer them at the same price.

However, considering that many people outside still need crops, he cannot allocate too high a proportion at present, at most 30% of a single crop cycle.

The quantity is a bit low, but in just over a year, Gu Yunyang and the others will graduate. Although he cannot control their pricing, there will certainly be more crops available on the market by then…

Tong Zhanyan calculated carefully, but Qing Suifeng fell silent as he listened.

Qing Suifeng had, of course, seen the online concerns regarding the base, and that was precisely why he was so deeply moved at that moment.

From initially selling the crops with reduced infection rates at the same price as ordinary crops, to offering repeated discounts, Tong Zhanyan was truly striving to make this world a better place.

A thousand thoughts swirled in his mind, but in the end, they crystallized into six words: “Thank you, Tong Zhanyan.”

Probably because they hadn’t returned yet, two or three hours later—around five in the evening—Qing Jiyue came over.

Tong Zhanyan handed him his fishing rod, intending to let him try his hand at it.

Thanks to the newbie protection period, a fish was quickly hooked.

In the end, the fish wasn’t reeled in—Qing Jiyue had used his powers to grab it. He’d been so flustered that by the time he realized what was happening, he’d already instinctively activated his abilities.

Qing Jiyue had made such a commotion that the other fish in the water were likely startled; after that, none of them took the bait.

As six o’clock approached and Tian Xinqing and the others were about to wrap up, Tong Zhanyan also called it a day.

After spending half the afternoon at it, they had caught a total of six fish.

The grass carp had been growing for nearly two years now, and with their regular feedings, they’d reached about seven or eight jin—quite large.

However, even without counting Gu Yunyang and his group, there were easily over a hundred people relying on crops for food. Eating meat was out of the question, so they could only make soup.

When Tong Zhanyan and the others returned, the kitchen at the back door was bustling; it was almost time to serve dinner.

Since the others didn’t know how, Tong Zhanyan took charge himself.

About forty minutes later, when Tong Zhanyan carried the soup into the front hall, the group had already started eating.

But that didn’t stop them from lining up to try it.

As usual, Tong Zhanyan served three portions first.

That night, Tong Zhanyan didn’t return to the small building.

The next day, upon hearing that Tong Zhanyan had simmered fish soup the night before, Gu Yunyang and his group immediately looked at him with eager eyes.

Tong Zhanyan had always invited them whenever he had something delicious.

Tong Zhanyan was at a loss for words.

The fish were currently in their spawning season; catching a few to sample was fine, but they’d have to wait a while longer to eat them in large quantities.

Tong Zhanyan could only make some empty promises for now.

Knowing there was nothing to eat, Gu Yunyang and his group shot daggers at those who were actually eating, while the latter’s noses were practically in the air.

For the next week, their favorite topic of conversation was just how fresh the fish soup was and how delicious the fish meat tasted.

In the meantime, Tong Zhanyan dug out the seeds of the purple vetch and other plants he’d saved earlier and scattered them across several of the mountains in the base.

There were only six or seven mountains in total—not many—, but in terms of total area, it was actually quite substantial.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t use all the seeds; he scattered them only very sparsely.

Those plants were all quite hardy and would spread on their own after a while.

Tong Zhanyan also planted wheat in the greenhouse.

The wheat’s growth cycle had already reached forty days; the last time it matured, many of the corn plants had already produced cobs.

So this time, Tong Zhanyan planted the wheat early, when the corn had only grown to his waist.

A week later, after weeding the fields once and nearly finishing fertilizing the other crops, they shifted their attention to the corn, pumpkins, and sweet potatoes.

Together, these three crops covered a full six hundred mu.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t slack off anymore; he pitched in.

All six hundred mu of land required manual fertilization, which was quite time-consuming even with a large workforce.

Amid the hustle and bustle, Tong Zhanyan’s mind was filled with thoughts of an irrigation system, but unfortunately, they didn’t have enough fertilizer to spare at the moment.

A week later, when the work was done, Tong Zhanyan was so exhausted he could barely straighten his back.

Applying fertilizer required frequent bending over.

By the time they finished one round, weeds had already sprouted in the fields previously planted with other crops, and it was time to apply fertilizer again.

After a day’s rest, the group got back to work.

After two rounds, when it was time to tend to the corn, pumpkins, and sweet potatoes, the corn was nearly as tall as a person, the pumpkins had long since spread across the ground, and the sweet potato vines had grown thick and dense.

This made fertilizing even more difficult.

At the same time, the plants began to bloom profusely.

The bees, which had previously relied on the flowers of the purple vetch growing at the foot of the mountain by the river, swarmed over the area the moment they saw this.

Tong Zhanyan gave up on hand-pollinating.

With the experience from last time, Old Xu and the others felt a bit sorry for him, but they didn’t say anything.

Sweet potatoes don’t need pollination, and pumpkin flowers aren’t as small and numerous as those of other crops. Besides, the bee population had grown again over the past few months.

Most importantly, even if they’d tried, they wouldn’t have been able to keep up—flowers have their own blooming seasons.

Tong Zhanyan had planted the corn and pumpkins early—nearly forty days ahead of the other crops. Although they grew more slowly at first due to the lack of seedlings, there was still a twenty-day gap overall.

It was precisely those twenty days that allowed the flowering periods of the other crops to be staggered from theirs.

Twenty days later, when the corn and pumpkins were nearly fully pollinated, the bees immediately shifted their attention to the other crops.

Seeing this, Tong Zhanyan simply stopped paying attention to them.

Apart from their regular weeding and fertilizing, Old Xu and the others selected two or three crops on the edges of the field and took the time to hand-pollinate them.

Bee pollination doesn’t guarantee success for every single flower, and the ones lost are simply lost—they couldn’t bear to let that happen.

With that task finished, Tong Zhanyan went to water the corn in the greenhouse with fertilizer.

This batch of wheat was growing even slower than the last one—much slower, in fact, far beyond what he had anticipated.

Last time, they were ready for harvest in forty days; this time, after forty days, they had barely reached his thighs.

This was also the first time they hadn’t caught up to the corn even halfway through their growth cycle.

Tong Zhanyan was particularly pleased and immediately rewarded them with some high-concentration fertilizer solution.

As for the corn, he didn’t neglect them either.

After finishing his work, Tong Zhanyan had just stepped out of the greenhouse when he spotted Ning Langdong.

Not far behind him were several fourth-year students wearing the uniforms of Sidi Military Academy.

They were both excited and nervous.

Looking at them, Tong Zhanyan immediately realized what was going on—it was graduation time again.

Tong Zhanyan thought of Dai Shuda from before.

They hadn’t seen each other since that meeting, and he had no idea how they were doing now.

Sure enough, Ning Langdong stepped forward and asked Tong Zhanyan if he had time; the others had come to say goodbye.

Although Tong Zhanyan attended the same school as them, he rarely went to campus.

They had the opportunity to visit the base once a week, but most of the time they couldn’t see Tong Zhanyan. Even when they did, it was only a brief glimpse from afar, because Tong Zhanyan was always busy.

So this moment was especially important to them.

They were also extremely nervous, stumbling over their words, their faces flushed all the way to their necks.

Tong Zhanyan smiled and chatted with them for a while, offering some words of encouragement before watching them run joyfully toward the car.

After seeing them off, Tong Zhanyan turned to Ning Langdong and asked about Dai Shuda and the others.

Ning Langdong, Tian Xinqing, and Su Yanran all had exams at the end of every semester, and whenever they had free time, they would go back to the school to visit, so they were still quite close with the people there.

Hearing this, a look of sadness crossed Ning Langdong’s face. “There were eight of them in the last batch; now only four remain. Two were lost during the previous beast tide, and the other two have passed away one after another over the past year.”

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

Many students at Sidi Military Academy come from the outer cities. They arrive full of hope, but often don’t survive their three-year military service.

Tong Zhanyan had known this all along, but experiencing it firsthand was a different matter entirely.

Ning Langdong tried to offer comfort, but after a long pause, all he could manage was, “…This sort of thing happens quite often.”

After a pause, he added, “Actually, things are much better this year than in previous years. With hope on the horizon, everyone’s morale is high, so the overall mortality rate has dropped significantly.”

“I’ve heard recruitment has been going well this year. Once we have more people, things should improve even further.”

“Actually, before the frenzy appeared, the front lines were quite stable. There were rarely large-scale casualties. It’s just that in recent years, people have been living in fear, and fewer have been enlisting, which is why things have turned out this way…”

Tong Zhanyan didn’t listen to what Ning Langdong said afterward; he looked in the direction the group had just left.

He should have spoken with them a little longer just now.