Chapter 745: Harvests and Rivalries on Hill Forty-Nine

Driving this truck was a blast, but it guzzled diesel—and diesel could only be bought with precious credits. So after getting her fill with a few laps, Xia Qing took Old Goat home and parked the truck in the cleared-out living room on the first floor of the rack building, right next to her rotary tiller, only a wall apart.

“Come on, Old Goat, let’s go.” Xia Qing picked up the thick “Beast Fourth Generation Off-Road Truck Manual” from the truck and waved her partner out. The rack building’s door didn’t have a screen, so they had to move fast. Get out, close the door tight, or a swarm of mosquitoes would invade.

Old Goat gave the truck an affectionate nudge before following Xia Qing out of the garage, showing just how much he liked that vehicle.

Xia Qing grabbed a water pail and headed for the Spring Cave to fetch water. She took the chance to check on her devastationweed, too.

The third devastationweed, grown from a side shoot cut back in March, was still small but its roots had already sunk deep into the soil. Its leaves no longer drooped, proof that the roots were now drawing nutrients to fuel new growth.

Now Xia Qing truly had three devastationweeds to her name.

Earlier, after seeing roots sprout from the first side shoot, she’d cut a second shoot, too. That one didn’t rot away, but right now it looked a bit wilted—she figured it’d take nearly a month to finally send out roots.

If all went well, Xia Qing would soon be the proud owner of four devastationweeds!

Better yet, after she clipped off that side shoot, the main devastationweed—which had already lost seven leaves—pushed out another fresh bud.

As for the devastationweed seeds she’d buried, Xia Qing peered with wide eyes but saw no tiny sprouts yet. According to the Growing Manual from Zhang San, if devastationweed seeds don’t sprout in spring, they go dormant when summer brings the heat, only breaking dormancy in autumn or next spring.

She wasn’t worried. The devastationweeds she had were enough for detoxing. If the seeds eventually lost all life and none sprouted, she’d just stick to propagating new plants by separating shoots instead of relying on seeds.

Done checking the devastationweed, Xia Qing walked to the open ground on either side of the greenhouse—startling a flock of birds busy digging up insects from the soil.

Yesterday while weeding, she’d found some cutworms and grubs lurking nearby. That meant these two pests weren’t just resistant to the pesticide issued by the Safe Zone but had even adapted to Zhang San’s formula from last year. She’d have to clear them out by hand.

The birds, spooked by Xia Qing settling in close, flew off but soon circled back to forage further away, determined not to lose out on those tasty bugs.

Xia Qing closed her eyes, turning her ear to the wind, the sound of water, bird calls, frogs, and crickets—listening for those subtle signs of creatures beneath the soil.

That faint swish-swish belonged to earthworms wriggling. They were beneficial, so she left them alone. But the localized shhhh and crunchy bites were grub and cutworm larvae chewing at roots.

She quickly locked onto her target and, with practiced hands, dug out a big fat grub from ten centimeters down—tossing it to the hungry magpie waiting at her side.

These magpies didn’t actually live in her territory, but every time Xia Qing weeded or tilled the soil near the greenhouse, they’d show up to hunt for insects. In a way, they’d become her reliable neighbors.

Just like a wolf’s howl, bird calls carried deep emotion and meaning. The more Xia Qing watched and listened, the easier it became for her to pick up their messages.

If a bird’s song was sweet and melodious and it fluffed its feathers, it must’ve been in mating season, trying to catch a mate’s eye. When they bounced around on branches, chirping rapidly, that was their way of sharing happy news with their flock. Sharp, urgent calls meant they were angry or uneasy.

Right now, the magpie who got the grub was singing in delight, but the others—magpies and wild doves—who missed out, squawked with frustration.

Xia Qing grinned and, when she dug up a second grub, tossed it to the angriest bird. Its calls shifted to pure joy almost immediately.

There was something deeply satisfying about hunting grubs and feeding the birds—two accomplishments in one go.

As the afternoon sun shifted west, Old Goat wrapped up his grazing session on the hillside, sauntered out of Section Three like clockwork, and reappeared to scan his face. At the same time, the now-larger Honey Badger, strutting around with his snow-white flat head, came snorting onto the scene.

The sheep and the honey badger squared off for another showdown—wreaking havoc and amping up the ruckus.

But for Xia Qing, that just made it the perfect challenge for her hearing—she focused even harder and kept sorting out those faint pest sounds from all the noise.

By dusk, Old Goat had already scanned his face through two gates and returned to the territory, head held high as he came to Xia Qing’s side.

Xia Qing wasted no time praising her partner. “Old Goat, did you defeat the Honey Badger so quickly? Impressive! All that cycling these days really made your legs nimbler, huh?”

“Baa!”

“You’re amazing, Old Goat. Always training, always getting stronger. The safer our territory gets, the more you show what an evolved sheep should be… a real source of pride!”

“Crack!—snap!”

Suddenly, the sound of a tree trunk splitting echoed from outside the territory. Old Goat jumped in fright. Xia Qing gave his curly head a reassuring rub, headed for the iron mesh wall, and saw a thick tree had toppled into the Northern Barrier outside.

It had fallen—the same tree Flathead always chewed on out of frustration after losing to Old Goat.

This little fellow, after clearing out all the snakes and rats from Section Three of Hill Forty-Nine, had found a new calling—tree-felling.

“Thanks, Flathead.” Xia Qing scanned her face, stepped outside, and dragged the fallen trunk into Section Three.

Flathead, fuming, tried to snap at Xia Qing—she gently pushed him away, worried he’d put holes in her fancy new summer clothes she’d splurged on.

But Flathead rolled, got up, sniffed the air, and soon lost interest in Xia Qing. He turned and started gnawing furiously at the base of the tree.

Xia Qing wandered over and spotted bugs in the tree’s core. So, it turned out, after every scuffle, Flathead chewed on this tree not just to let off steam but to eat bugs, too.

Any animal that survived eleven years of disasters in the Evolved Forest had to be clever in its own way.

Back at the territory, Xia Qing loaded water buckets on Old Goat’s back. One side held a big bucket of fresh drinking water she just fetched, the other was for veggies.

Tonight she planned to steam eggplant and fry green peppers with eggs, and tomorrow’s breakfast would be fresh tomato salad—so she picked a few and dropped them in. She grabbed a handful of string beans, intending to blanch and sun-dry them for winter stews. For Old Goat, who loved cucumbers, she picked a few and cut some alfalfa, too. “That’s it, let’s head home.”

At the edge of the pea bed, Old Goat suddenly stopped.

Xia Qing turned back. “Craving some pea shoots?”

“Baa~”

“The peas are flowering, so we can’t pick much. But I’ll grab just a little for you to have with dinner.”

“Baa~~” Old Goat’s voice came out soft and sweet, making Xia Qing’s heart melt.

These peas had been found by Zhong Tao and Zheng Kui at Hui One Base—300 seeds grew 105 seedlings, for a sprout rate of 35%. That was at least ten points lower than ordinary Yellow Lantern seeds, even after Xia Qing soaked them with pure spring water.

Even though they were grown in nutrient-rich High Evolution Element Soil, when planted, the devastation element content of these peas started at 8‰ and had now risen to above 9‰. By harvest, it would surpass 10‰. If replanted, a lot might mutate into Red Lantern plants.

That proved these peas, bred for two generations of stability at Hui One, only lasted one stable generation on Hui Three’s land.

Though both she and Old Goat loved pea shoots, Xia Qing didn’t bother shielding this patch with Yi Stones—the peas didn’t measure up.

Over a hundred seedlings, bred for just two stable generations, weren’t worth guarding with Yi Stones—Xia Qing needed better peas for that.

She’d already asked Kuang Qingwei, Zhong Tao, and Zheng Kui to help. Now, they’d heard Hui Nine Base had pea seeds with four generations of stability. Kuang Qingwei had set up the connection—once Hui Nine’s peas ripened, they’d buy a batch and bring them here to Hui Three for sale.