Volume One, Chapter 26: Lin Ranyan Not Only Conducts Soil Testing, but Also Studies Pig Manure?

The next day, Captain Yang entered the Young Pioneers’ compound, his heart burning with anxiety. His brows were tightly knit, his eyes bloodshot—evidently, he hadn’t slept a wink all night.

Father Ji asked, “Captain Yang, what’s happened to you?”

“Brother Ji, it’s terrible! The production team’s corn seeds have been ravaged by rats. We had ten pounds, and now there’s less than one left! What are we going to do?”

Father Ji was shocked, “Are the rats so rampant? What a pity!”

Captain Yang sighed repeatedly, his face clouded with worry. “Exactly, and the worst part is, we’re out of seeds. We can’t afford to miss the spring planting! By the way, how many of those rare golden corn seeds does your Yanran have left? Can we…”

But who was Cang Jiuyao? Having lived two lives, her profession was killing—unless she wished otherwise, she would never leave a survivor. These black-clad figures were clearly not ordinary assassins; leaving one alive would only invite trouble in the future.

By rights, her morning sickness should have passed by now, yet the sudden bout left Baihua flustered and helpless.

Jiang Jingya was oddly comforted by what she heard, her mood—gloomy all morning—lifted a little. Even if it was just to soothe her, she thought, it was enough.

“Hua Xi, I’m so sorry for making you ride a horse just to accommodate me,” Zi Shi said apologetically.

Now, though, Kadu had grown old, nothing like his youthful self. A simple “You scared me to death,” and the crisis of trust was quietly brushed aside.

Qiao Chen’an kicked over the pill furnace, terrifying the boy tending the fire into cries and shouts. With a sweep of his palm, he shattered the dust whisk to pieces.

This fellow was truly mysterious—first knowing there was something beneath the altar, then seeing through the illusion. Was there anything she didn’t know?

“So you mean that Ming’s strength might not be so overwhelming?” Zhang Yu hurriedly asked.

He understood the logic, but having served the old emperor loyally all his life, he had never harbored any rebellious thoughts. With the situation suddenly changed, to alter the principles he had faithfully followed, someone had to speak frankly and give him a push.

“She displeased me,” Chong Xi said, her brows and eyes radiating unmatched nobility, her words as justified as the air she breathed.

It was the army led by Liu Bei, escaping from Linzi, five thousand imperial guards, now reduced to three thousand.

With the fall of Western Zhou, the surviving Qi kingdom was ablaze with joy; days ago, its people felt their nation was on the brink, but now they breathed easier, and the always destitute Qi suddenly showed signs of life.

The inner energy struck his heart like a surge of electricity; the man’s eyes snapped open, he gulped air like a drowning soul breaking the surface, panting desperately, his body drenched in cold sweat, terror flooding every fiber.

“All is within my expectations. Once we raise the price of this five-thousand-yuan item, they’ll give up on their own!” Red-Eyes said confidently. She had already increased the bid by a thousand, and didn’t expect anyone to keep up.

The car window slid down, revealing a familiar, alluring face. She smiled at Qin Yang, her eyes gentle as water, radiant and lovely.

After a quick check, finding no threats, Jun Yan silently breathed a sigh of relief. Still, he didn’t put away the Heavenly Eye, but maintained its vigilance, observing the world around him.

Nisha thought it over and agreed. She was fond of playing Texas Hold’em herself—not exactly an expert, but she understood the principles well enough.

A fleeting regret passed through Dong Tu’s eyes. He hadn’t expected everything to stem from him; had he not schemed, Jin Huan Sanjie wouldn’t have gambled everything.

Right before Liu Wuchen and the others, a fat figure crashed heavily to the ground, leaving a basin-sized crater in the earth.

“Master, what’s going on? You know, don’t you?” Yi Yun asked Gu Jianfeng, his eyes burning with longing.

That crane was no ordinary bird—it had cultivated for centuries, becoming a spirit. Every disciple of the Wanderer Sect relied on it for their journeys up and down the mountain.