The agriculture students scrambled about, stuffing the high-level mutated chickens back into their cage. Researcher Dong checked it several times to make sure the latch was secure before stepping forward and gratefully shaking Teacher Li’s hand.
“Thank you so much. If these chickens had escaped, I wouldn’t even know how to write my report.”
Thinking back to how a student in a standard protective suit had nearly been pecked, he looked toward the group just getting off the bus with concern. “Is everyone alright?”
“We’re fine—thanks to Pu Qing stepping in quickly,” Teacher Li replied. She instinctively tried to wipe her sweat, then remembered the suit and lowered her hand. “Alright, Old Dong, hurry and get your chickens back. I’ve got a class to run.”
Moments later, the farm gates slowly opened. The students lined up by class in two orderly rows and entered.
As he led them inside, Researcher Dong spoke sternly, “Everything in this farm is classified. No information can be leaked. First—please turn off your communicators.”
Forward Farm was a confidential unit under the Jiangnan Base’s Department of Agriculture, so the strictness was expected.
The students obediently powered down their devices.
Dong wasn’t worried about anyone secretly taking photos—current tech could track and lock any attempt to transmit internal images. This was just procedure.
Just one second after Jiang Luokui turned hers off, a message from Aunt Chen came through:
【Chen: Xiao Jiang, do you still have that lettuce you brought? My friend is willing to pay a high price!】
No reply came.
In the cafeteria kitchen, Aunt Chen sighed helplessly at Liang Quan, who refused to leave.
“I say, Xiao Liang, what are you doing hanging around here all day? Won’t your boss count this as skipping work?”
Liang Quan was practically frantic. “Who cares about skipping work? I’ve got a banquet in two days with no menu finalized—my boss is even more anxious than I am!”
Ever since confirming the exceptional quality of the scallions used in the scallion oil, Liang Quan had been obsessed. He waited all night for news, then came first thing in the morning—only to learn the scallions were gone.
Seeing his disappointment, Aunt Chen thought of the lettuce still in the fridge.
“Why don’t you take a look at this lettuce? The quality’s excellent—no signs of mutation at all.”
At first, Liang Quan wasn’t interested. But the moment he saw the lettuce, his attitude flipped.
Though it had been refrigerated overnight, it still looked pristine—pure color, no damage.
Aunt Chen was about to prepare a dipping sauce, but he stopped her. “No need. I’ll just eat it raw.”
The lettuce was crisp, juicy, and sweet—no earthy aftertaste, no trace of radiation.
Liang Quan wasn’t responsible for procurement, but as head chef, he had extremely high standards and often sourced ingredients himself—frequently arguing with buyers.
He couldn’t say if other bases had better lettuce, but he was certain:
This was top-tier—even within Jiangnan Base.
Most crops couldn’t avoid radiation unless grown in neutralized greenhouses—which were extremely expensive—or hydroponic systems, which were cheaper but still costly.
But this lettuce clearly came from neither.
Yesterday, he’d learned the scallion oil was consigned at the supermarket for just 500 credits per bottle—and the scallions used were likely of similar quality.
Which meant…
Whoever grew these crops had a special method.
And he wanted in.
Afraid the lettuce would sell out just like the scallions, Liang Quan pleaded, “Sis, please contact that student—I’ll take the whole batch!”
He watched Aunt Chen send the message and refused to leave, waiting anxiously.
Ten minutes passed.
No reply.
He paced restlessly.
Aunt Chen waved him off. “Wait if you want. I’ve got to deal with logistics—they keep sending us the worst flour.”
Liang Quan nodded gloomily, mind fixed on the mysterious student.
After walking about 100 meters along the main road, a vast expanse of rice fields came into view, stretching endlessly.
Researcher Dong proudly introduced, “What you see now is this year’s late rice. It’ll be ready for harvest in about a month. The plots numbered 1–20 on my right contain ten varieties selected over three years for radiation resistance and mutation tolerance.”
At a glance, the rice looked golden and healthy.
But up close—
Mutations were everywhere.
A student raised a hand. “But… isn’t half of it mutated?”
Teacher Li smiled. “That’s normal. The soil here hasn’t been purified. Crop rotation has only reduced radiation from Level 6 to Level 5.”
Dong added, “The first batch of rice here came from Central Base—Chunshan-23. Without abilities, its mutation rate reached 90%.”
Gasps erupted.
Ninety percent!?
Compared to that, this field was practically excellent.
“Alright, enough talk—let’s begin.”
Teacher Li clapped her hands and started explaining rice morphology, using a healthy plant as reference.
The students gathered in a semicircle.
Jiang Luokui already knew this material by heart and stayed near the back—only to notice Pu Qing also standing among them, notebook in hand, taking notes.
A combat student… interested in farming?
For the next half hour, they moved through the fields, examining different mutation types. After ensuring everyone understood, Teacher Li gave them 20 minutes of free observation.
“Observe carefully and take notes—you’ll need to write a report. Stay nearby.”
Students dispersed in groups.
Lin Zihan dashed over and grabbed Jiang Luokui. “I’ve got all the notes—let’s go find mutated samples!”
They quickly claimed a good spot.
Lin Zihan struggled in theory classes but excelled in practical work. Seeing her notes were solid, Jiang Luokui began her own observations.
She spotted a sample and wrote:
“Sample 1: upright stem, dwarf mutation tendency, increased floret count, fewer grains but abnormally enlarged…”
Nearby, another student was hesitating over a rice plant.
The grains were long and thin—almost leaf-like. The husks had unusually long, drooping bristles.
Probably mutated…?
Suddenly—
The bristles snapped upright. The grains swelled rapidly.
“Huh? It changed again…?”
In the next instant, the stiff bristles shot out like needles, piercing his suit.
A scream rang out.
“Ah! It hurts! Something got inside—my suit’s broken!”
Jiang Luokui’s heart jolted. She grabbed Lin Zihan and retreated.
She saw clearly—
The rice plant looked like an inflated pufferfish, grains bulging as if about to explode.
Yet some grains remained long and thin.
One plant.
Two mutation forms.
Her breath caught.
“…A secondary mutation?”