Chapter 231: The Storm Finally Passes

Maybe it was sulking after being yelled at—even though the clouds had thinned enough for stars to peek through, the Xiang Rain stubbornly kept pouring until five in the morning.

This was the third Xiang Rain calamity in the tenth year, and it’d lasted a grueling seventy-three hours.

Since Blue Star’s great evolution, no Xiang Rain had lasted this long, making it the longest red-level downpour in history.

The survivors were exhausted, but deep down, every one of them was grateful to be alive.

Once they’d cleared out the mutated crops and pulled back the rainproof tarp to let the living plants breathe, Hu Zifeng’s Squad finally made it back to Plot One.

Xia Qing didn’t even have the strength to walk home. She collapsed beside a blazing pile of mutant water rats, panting for breath.

Why lie there? Because the fire’s heat drove off evolved insects and fungi hiding in the Xiang Grass—it was the safest spot she could find.

Crackle, crackle, crackle…

That familiar rhythm made Xia Qing slowly turn her head. Through her mask she saw her muddy companion trotting over, two fresh spinach stalks clamped in his mouth, splashing through the mud toward her.

Xia Qing forced herself upright and sat down on some fire-dried Xiang Grass, pulling off her silvery protective mask.

The stench of burning mutant beasts hit her hard, but she was just too drained to move anywhere else.

She took the spinach Boss Sheep offered, rinsed it clean with spring water from her canteen. Xia Qing munched on the leaves while Boss Sheep gobbled up the stems and roots.

Yep—raw.

A muddy girl and a muddy sheep, neither minded the other’s mess. They leaned together for a long rest before Xia Qing finally clambered up. “Head home first, Boss. I’ll pick some veggies and cook you a treat.”

Following Boss Sheep’s hoofprints up to the highland spinach terrace, Xia Qing finally felt her nerves settle. Though the bramble barrier at the edge had been pushed aside, Boss Sheep had only pulled two spinach stalks—hadn’t touched anything else.

After blocking the brambles back in place, Xia Qing looked up to see Boss Sheep carrying the little bug-catching basket in his mouth, trudging uphill. One hoof stomped down on a fat grasshopper—he tossed it into the basket without missing a beat.

There were fish, snakes, and chickens at home waiting to be fed—Boss Sheep was an absolute powerhouse!

Xia Qing was genuinely touched, stuffing all her lectures back down and showering him with compliments more torrential than the river.

After the Xiang Rain, bugs were everywhere. In no time, girl and sheep had filled a basket with insects.

On the walk home, Xia Qing’s heart ached at the sight of farmland wrecked by the storm.

Only three fields had made it through with minor damage: the highland spinach, shielded by the Yi Stone, lost just two stalks—exactly what Boss Sheep just gobbled up. The highland sweet potato terrace and greenlight rice were also untouched, all thanks to the Yi Stone.

But the rest was a disaster. On the low slope, the sweet potato terrace lost twenty vines. Pumpkins, at least past their main growth, only lost about one fifth, but other vegetables lost between a third and a half.

The cotton was at peak maturity and took a ten percent hit. That’s 715 plants gone. In the last Xiang Rain, cotton was still growing and only lost 220 plants. Just shows how brutal this storm was.

The corn, still growing, lost a third—1,050 plants wiped out. Yellowlight mung beans in the farmland lost a third too, 2,000 in total. At least the green-glow mung beans in the terraces fared a little better, but still lost 560.

All told, the terraces suffered less than the open fields. Greenlight crops lost fewer than yellowlight. Plants sprouted in spring water survived better than those started in filtered.

One more thing—the corn plants grown from Luo Pei’s two-catty seeds took less damage than the ones from the Safe Zone seed batch.

Losing so many hard-grown crops hurt, but the real blessing was that no one—not a single person or beast—in her territory had died.

If the territories hadn’t joined forces at the end and cleared twenty-five high-risk Xiang-evolved Amur cork trees, the entire area would have suffocated under A-grade toxic gas. Every animal would’ve had to keep its mouth closed tight just to survive.

But the storm had finally passed. They were still standing, and that was everything. As long as they were alive, they’d already won. There was still hope.

Back home with Boss Sheep, Xia Qing first took off the wolves’ protective masks and gave them pure spring water, then bathed Boss Sheep until his coat gleamed before quickly washing herself and changing into clean clothes. Only then did she whip up some premium feed for Boss Sheep before heading down to check the cellar.

The storage room was untouched, and everything inside was safe and sound.

She silently thanked herself for sweating five years in the Safe Zone’s construction crew.

She thanked the Wolf Pack, too, for sending over the Yi Stone.

And she was grateful for Zhang San—for her idol, who’d sold her the temperature control unit and the interior wall panels.

There was no more fresh meat in storage. Xia Qing boiled dried meat for the sick wolf and tossed some insects in to feed the bouncing spring-water fish before dragging the chicken cage—which had sat four days in the tool shed—outside under the eaves.

The chicken enclosure was trashed—she’d have to rebuild, but for now, they needed a little fresh air.

Four days without sunlight—the black-feathered rooster beat its wings and stretched its neck, letting out the very first crow of its life.

“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

“Not bad there, champ,” rasped Xia Qing, sighing.

Now that the rooster was crowing, there was no way to keep her chicken secret from prying eyes in her territory. Pouring insects into the feeding trough, she watched as the chickens and goslings stampeded over to gobble them up—didn’t even need calling.

She dumped the next batch of bugs into the snake box, but one snake darted out like lightning from the wooden crate—Xia Qing smacked it down with one swift blow.

Before she could do anything else, the Wolf with the Broken Leg dashed over and, with one slash of its paw, chopped the snake clean in half—fast, precise, ruthless.

“You’re incredible, Broken Leg! Respect,” Xia Qing praised. The check showed the snake was already displaying a redlight warning. Without protection, some of her edible snakes had already turned dangerous and lost all sense—gone completely berserk.

A crazed snake felt no pain, no fear—would fight till the last drop of blood was spilled.

So they had to be dealt with immediately.

Without hesitating, Xia Qing grabbed a sack and checked every snake in the box, culling all those flashing redlight or showing signs of frenzy. The rest, she put back to raise as usual.

She’d found the problem late—only a third of her edible snakes remained, just a bit over twenty. Her heart ached at the loss.

The Xiang Rain had just ended—Zhong Tao and the others wouldn’t be able to come for at least five or six days. The culled snakes had to be burned or buried.

As Xia Qing prepared to deal with the redlight snakes, the Wolf with the Broken Leg snatched one up and began to eat.

Four days with nothing to eat—a starving wolf wasn’t picky. That was one less job for Xia Qing.

After a quick breakfast and a shot of fresh premium nutrient solution, Xia Qing didn’t even let herself nap. She dove right into clearing the Xiang Grass from the courtyard.

She wasn’t just being diligent, the storm had dragged on so long that the first batch of Xiang Grass had started going to seed. If those seeds matured and dropped, then in the next Xiang Rain, the density of those nasty weeds sprouting in her territory would drive her mad.

So until the Xiang Grass was cleared, a farmer’s rest was out of the question.

Once she’d tackled the courtyard, Xia Qing fired up the rotary tiller, swapped on the new weed-cutting wheels, and started clearing Xiang Grass from the rest of the land.

Time was tight, no point fussing over roots—she just needed to get the tops gone now and worry about the rest later.

She’d already modified the tiller’s blades and added four extra weed cutters—tripling her efficiency. It guzzled more fuel, but it got the job done quick.

The clatter of the tiller engine and the slicing blades echoed all the way to Territory Two. Tang Huai, who’d just fallen asleep, snapped. “Is that woman made of iron? Doesn’t she ever sleep?”