The sky blazed with crimson clouds, and the sun had already disappeared beyond the western horizon.
More and more people began to arrive at the experimental fields. Every morning and evening, agriculture students came to check their crops—recording data, watering where needed, fertilizing where necessary.
The heat was intense. Leaves drooped under the scorching sun, and if watering was neglected, delicate plants might wither and die in an instant. There was no room for carelessness.
Of course, that was just summer. When the weather cooled, most students stayed in the fields whenever they had no classes.
Studying agriculture was truly no easy task.
Jiang Luokui, wearing her straw hat, carried a pot of scallions. Inside the pot, aside from the small mound burying Bubu, was another freshly dug scallion. Meanwhile, her mind wasn’t idle—she was typing resignation messages on Lingxun.
She had only taken a day off at noon, but her supervisor had already messaged her, hinting that since she was now in college and busier, her base salary would be reduced.
It was already only a few hundred yuan—how much lower could it go?
Jiang Luokui had already evaluated things. Once she divided and replanted the scallions today, she could harvest within a month at the latest.
Her current savings were enough to last that long. The part-time jobs were draining her time and energy—so she quit all three at once.
Wang Meng had already arrived early and spotted her immediately. Waving enthusiastically, she called out, “Junior Jiang, over here!”
Wang Meng’s plot, assigned by the school, was over sixty square meters—much larger than Jiang Luokui’s rented one. Unfortunately, only a single corn plant grew in that entire space.
“Do you need me to help, or… should I step aside?” Wang Meng asked nervously.
Jiang Luokui crouched down to inspect the soil around the corn. No issues. The radiation level was low—comparable to the bag of nutrient soil—and the plant itself had been well cared for.
Based on her instincts and experience as a spirit plant cultivator, she suspected the mutation might actually be due to overcare.
Yes—some plants suffer from too much attention.
“Please wait outside,” Jiang Luokui said.
High-level ability users could sometimes sense things if they were nearby during ability use. Better to keep her secret hidden.
“Alright, call me when you’re done.”
Wang Meng stepped outside the fence without hesitation, even leaving the gate open, sitting down casually with no suspicion whatsoever.
Taking advantage of the lack of attention, Jiang Luokui pulled out her green-tinted cup, poured a capful of the special liquid at the base of the corn, then hesitated before placing her hand over the spot. Spiritual energy flowed through her fingertips.
Her cultivation level was too low—she didn’t dare use advanced techniques, or she’d drain herself completely.
Still, she had taken the money. She had to deliver.
One hand pressed to the soil, the other forming a hand seal, her eyes shimmered with green light as she cast a basic spirit planter technique—Heart-Linking Art, allowing her consciousness to connect with the plant and sense its condition.
The corn was an ordinary plant. Even with the technique, she could only vaguely feel that it was “returning to the right path”—its mutation halting.
That was enough.
But the drain on her spiritual energy was terrifying.
In just one minute, more than half of it was gone.
For the sake of “customer experience,” she didn’t call Wang Meng immediately. Instead, she pretended to fiddle with the soil for another five minutes before standing up.
“Senior Wang, it’s done.”
Wang Meng rushed over anxiously.
But after examining the corn, her expression turned confused.
There was… no visible change?
Did it fail?
Ability effects were usually immediate—though often less effective than true techniques.
Jiang Luokui explained, “You won’t see results right away. Check again in a couple of days.”
“…Alright.”
Though still uncertain, Wang Meng nodded. Then she noticed the scallions nearby. “Are you transplanting scallions? Want help?”
“No need, I’ve got it.”
By the time the sun fully set, darkness crept in.
After carefully closing the gate, Jiang Luokui used a shovel to dig up the scallions, roots and all. She divided them into small clusters—just as she expected, sixteen in total.
Each cluster was planted about ten centimeters apart, with shallow holes just deep enough to cover the white stalks.
The water she’d fetched at noon had partially evaporated, but the remainder was just enough. She added half a capful of the special liquid—more than enough for her own crops.
When she finished, Bubu had woken up at some point and was sitting blankly in the pot, watching her work.
“How do you feel now?” she asked, crouching down.
“Abu.”
Dizzy… sleepy…
Jiang Luokui gently patted its head. “Rest well. Your job’s done.”
Bubu nodded and buried itself again.
Next came the real problem: the land’s radiation.
But first, she needed to clear her meridians. Otherwise, cultivation would be too inefficient.
Sitting cross-legged between the rows, she closed her eyes and began drawing in spiritual energy, forcing it through blocked meridians.
Her body’s innate talent wasn’t bad—but she had started cultivating too late.
She focused, guiding energy through each acupoint. At first, the pain made her grit her teeth, sweat pouring from her body. But after opening dozens of points, she could endure it calmly.
By 8 p.m., the last trace of sunlight vanished. Moonlight bathed the fields, leaving Jiang Luokui as the only figure remaining.
She exhaled a breath of turbid air and opened her eyes, delighted.
Her absorption speed had increased at least tenfold.
Cleared meridians felt amazing.
Then—
She smelled something strange.
…Was it coming from her?
Looking down, she wrung out her soaked clothes. Murky, foul-smelling liquid dripped out—sweat mixed with impurities expelled from her body.
The smell was… unbearable.
“Ugh—”
She didn’t even dare smell her own hands. “Forget it. Let’s test how much land I can purify first.”
Radiation, in essence, was just impurity in the soil—blocking the earth’s energy. It could be solved with techniques or formations.
But she could use neither.
So she brute-forced it.
Sitting cross-legged, both hands pressed to the soil, she poured all her spiritual energy into the ground.
Thirty seconds later, she was nearly drained—and the monitoring system showed only two square meters had dropped to radiation level 1.
“…What?”
She had expected at least five.
“…Forget it. I’m going back to shower first!”
Back in the dorm, she rushed straight into the bathroom, too embarrassed to linger.
The smell drew glances from her roommates.
Bai Xiang and Lan Ya exchanged looks, wondering if she had been bullied.
Lin Zihan knocked on the door in shock. “Oh my god—did you fall into a sewer?!”
“I was working!” Jiang Luokui shouted back.
Still doing part-time jobs? Lin Zihan scratched her head, realizing she might not even be as poor as Jiang Luokui.
“You didn’t bring clothes. Want me to grab some?”
“Yes, thanks! Anything is fine!”
Opening the wardrobe, Lin Zihan froze.
Every piece of clothing looked the same—just faded differently. All bore the words:
“Happiness Charity Orphanage.”
She quickly grabbed an outfit and left it outside.
“Thanks!”
After showering, Jiang Luokui hurried out again, hair still dripping.
“I won’t be back tonight. Don’t wait up.”
After she left, silence filled the dorm.
“…She works three jobs?” Lan Ya asked in shock.
“Overnight too?!” Bai Xiang added.
Lin Zihan took a deep breath. “Probably… Can her body even handle that?”
Then she remembered the betting idea.
Immediately, she opened the forum to research.
Meanwhile, in another dorm, Wang Meng was drying her hair when her roommates asked:
“How’s your corn? Didn’t you hire an expert?”
“Don’t know yet. Need a couple of days.”
“What were you talking about earlier?” she asked. “Something about a freshman? D-rank?”
“Yeah, a D-rank freshman in agriculture. Huge controversy online.”
Curious, Wang Meng opened the forum. “What’s her name?”
“Something like Jiang… Jiang Luokui?”
Wang Meng’s smile froze.
“…What did you say?”
“Jiang Luokui!”
“……”
Isn’t she supposed to be a genius candidate? Why is she D-rank?!
Inside, she screamed:
My corn—!!!