Great Power Reclamation

Chapter 2871 We Must Have Our Own Seeds

California farms stretch as far as the eye can see, lush and green, with soybeans, corn, wheat, and some fruits and grapes, seemingly endless.

Ye Yuze and Yang Geyong are not short of money. After arriving here, they began to expand continuously, and now this farm is one of the top farms in the entire United States.

As we all know, the seed problem is a critical issue in modern agriculture. With the development of science and technology, the traditional seed selection methods are no longer suitable for today's agricultural development.

Therefore, Monsanto has emerged, a company that almost monopolizes most of the world's seed resources...

Although Junken City was also trying its best to develop its own seeds, it still couldn't keep up due to various reasons.

This matter has become a major worry for Ye Yuze and Yang Geyong. Yang Geyong's current businesses are all in oil fields, so he doesn't need to worry about it at all.

Ye Yuze's warrior group was now entirely under the control of his son, Ye Feng, so he didn't need to worry about it anymore. After discussing it, the two decided to take action to resolve the matter.

They are Chinese, they are the second generation of military reclamation families, how could they tolerate such a thing happening?
They could tolerate the technological backwardness caused by isolationism, but as a major agricultural country with thousands of years of history, they could not tolerate being held hostage by others for seeds.

Furthermore, considering the achievements of the Warrior Group in automobiles, new energy, and chips, who dares to challenge them? Let alone this tiny seed.

Besides, as a second-generation military settler, the reason he went to California to open a farm is clearly to infiltrate the enemy...

The morning light on California farms always carries the sweet scent of dew, but today the air is heavy with a sense of solemnity.

Ye Yuze squatted on the edge of the soybean field, picking up a plump soybean pod with his fingertips. Sunlight filtered through his fingers and fell on the white hair at his temples, reflecting a touch of melancholy from the years.

"Old Yang, look at these bean seeds." He waved the bean pods in his hand, his voice carrying a barely perceptible astringency.

"Monsanto's 'Pioneer' series is indeed highly resistant to disease, but each pound of seeds is seven times more expensive than the ones we breed ourselves, and we also have to sign those unfair terms—no saving seeds, no unauthorized hybridization."

Yang Geyong followed from behind, holding a tablet computer in his hand. The screen displayed Monsanto's latest global seed distribution map, with red areas resembling a giant net that covered almost all major agricultural regions.

“Last week, we received a call from Junken City saying that there was a problem with the drought-resistant wheat we were cultivating. The lodging rate was 30% higher than expected. An old colleague from the Agricultural Research Institute said that the key gene fragments still cannot bypass Monsanto’s patent barrier.”

Ye Yuze suddenly stood up, crushing the bean pods in his palm.

"Back then, our fathers cleared land in the Gobi Desert and could grow crops even by mixing seeds with horse manure. Now, we have to depend on other people's attitudes to farm?"

He walked toward the farmer's house, his footsteps making a dull thud on the grass:
"The Warrior Group's chip manufacturing plant can produce 7-nanometer chips, and its new energy vehicles are all over Europe. Surely they can handle a few seeds?"

Yang Geyong followed in his footsteps, a smug smile playing on his lips:
“Money is not a problem. The Warrior Group had a surplus of 30 billion yuan in R&D funds last year, and I can also allocate 20 billion yuan from the oil field dividends. Let’s put in 50 billion yuan first, and add more if that’s not enough.”

He paused, then added, "But seeds are more complicated than chips. Monsanto, a century-old company, holds 30,000 active gene patents, and half of the world's top agronomists are under its umbrella."

Coffee was already laid out on the terrace of the main house. Ye Yuze opened his notebook, his pen tracing a heavy line across the paper:
“Then let’s poach our people. We won’t start from scratch; we’ll stand on the shoulders of giants—but those giants have to be our own.”

Yang Geyong took out his phone and pulled up a list:
“I had a headhunting firm screen them. Monsanto’s chief gene editing expert, Alan Parker, is Hungarian. Last year, he had a major falling out with senior management because he opposed the company selling its drought-resistant gene patent to Saudi Arabia. His team is among the world’s best in crop stress resistance research.”

"Name your price." Ye Yuze said without looking up.

"His annual salary is seven million US dollars, plus stock options."

"Give us 20 million, plus a private laboratory, and let us choose any equipment we like."

Ye Yuze continued writing, “Tell him that the research results belong to him, and we only need commercial licensing.”

Yang Geyong raised an eyebrow: "Ruthless enough. But I like it."

He dialed the headhunter's number and spoke fluently in English. Sunlight shone on his face, and the shrewdness of an oil field boss and the stubbornness of a second-generation military reclamation worker were intertwined in his eyes.

Ye Yuze's gaze fell on another page of the notebook, where the words "Domestic Talents" were written in large characters. Below it was a list of names:
Professor Zhou from the Agricultural University specializes in the root system improvement of hybrid rice.

Dr. Zhao from the Academy of Agricultural Sciences has made groundbreaking achievements in the field of gene markers.

There are also a few old colleagues from the Agricultural Research Institute in Junken City, who have decades of crop breeding data in their hands.

"We have to personally invite the people in China."

He closed his notebook, his eyes lighting up. "Last year, Lao Zhou was ousted from the academician election. I heard that Monsanto wanted to poach him to their Singapore branch, offering him an annual salary of eight million. We don't need to throw money at him; we'll build him a national-level laboratory, let him lead a team, and provide unlimited funding."

Yang Geyong hung up the phone, shaking his head with a laugh: "Your move is even more ruthless than throwing money at it. Which researcher doesn't want their own territory?"

He suddenly lowered his voice, "But Monsanto has a lot of informants, so we need to act quickly. I've already had our European branch register a shell company in Zurich called 'Wotu Gene,' and all recruitment and equipment procurement will go through their accounts."

Ye Yuze picked up his coffee cup, the steam blurring his features:

“From today onwards, this California farm will be our temporary command center. You will be in charge of funding and equipment, and I will be in charge of assembling the team. Within three months, I want to see the first core team in place.”

In the distance, combine harvesters are rolling over the wheat fields, and golden waves of wheat are surging like a sea.

As Yang Geyong gazed at the vast land, he suddenly recalled how, fifty years ago, he and Ye Yuze had chased and played on the ridges of the fields in the military reclamation city.

The fathers waved their hoes and shouted, "If you neglect the land for a short time, the land will neglect you for a whole year."

Now, what they are trying to ruin is the future of those who are being held hostage.

The headhunting firm was incredibly efficient. Three days later, Alan Parker's assistant contacted him, offering to meet in Switzerland, but requesting confidentiality.

In a café by Lake Zurich, Alan Parker, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, nervously rubbed his coffee cup between his fingers.

The scientist, nearing fifty, had dark circles under his eyes and had reportedly spent two consecutive nights in the lab in protest against the company's decision.

"Mr. Yang, Mr. Ye."

He pushed a document towards me. "This is a summary of my team's research over the past three years. The gene silencing technology for insect-resistant cotton has reached the clinical stage, and there's also an epigenetic modification program for drought-resistant maize—"

Yang Geyong interrupted him and pushed a contract towards him:

“Wotu Gene offers you the following: a $50 million annual budget for the Zurich headquarters laboratory, the ability to independently recruit a team of 20 people, and complete freedom in your research direction.”

"In addition, we have reserved 2,000 acres of experimental land at our California farm, which you can use at any time."

Allen's pupils contracted sharply. In his fifteen years at Monsanto, the highest-level project budget had never exceeded thirty million, let alone "freedom of research direction"—

That giant company's R&D always follows capital. Last year, his proposed saline-alkali land improvement project was shelved because of "insufficient commercial value".

"Why me?" His voice tightened. "Monsanto's legal department..."

"You don't need to worry about the Ministry of Justice."

Ye Yuze leaned back in his chair, his tone calm, "We've just acquired three small companies that hold gene patents, so we have enough leverage for cross-licensing. You just need to tell us when you can bring your team over."

Allen remained silent for ten minutes, then suddenly pulled a copy of his resignation letter from his briefcase:
“I submitted my resignation yesterday. Six core members of the team are willing to come with me, but most of their families are in St. Louis and need to address housing and children’s education.”

“We’ll cover all the houses in St. Louis, one detached house per person with a minimum area of ​​300 square meters, and we’ll reimburse all the expenses for our children to attend international schools.”

Yang Geyong immediately replied, "I'll have someone handle the formalities next week."

Allen stood up and solemnly extended his hand:

“My grandfather was a Hungarian farmer, and he always said that good seeds should make crops grow on all the land in the world. Monsanto has forgotten this, but I haven’t.”

After seeing Allen off, Ye Yuze gazed at the shimmering surface of the lake and suddenly smiled:

"Old Yang, do you think we're 'aiding the enemy'? We poached their chief scientist."

“This is called robbing the rich to help the poor.” Yang Geyong took out his phone. “There’s news from back home. Professor Zhou said he has an experimental field in Hainan and wants us to go over and have a chat.”

The experimental fields in Hainan are hidden at the foot of Wuzhi Mountain, where the humid air is filled with the fragrance of rice blossoms.

Professor Zhou squatted on the edge of the paddy field, holding a stalk of rice in his hand, the grains still glistening with water droplets. When this gray-haired agricultural expert saw Ye Yuze, his eyes instantly reddened.

"Xiao Ye, you've finally arrived."

He took Ye Yuze's hand and walked towards the edge of the field. "The 'Haidao No. 8' variety we cultivated last year can tolerate a salinity of 0.6%, but it always has problems during the grain-filling stage. I suspect it's a problem with the mitochondrial genes, but the sequencing instrument in the lab is too old and can't get accurate data."

Ye Yuze pointed to the tin shed in the distance: "Is that shed your laboratory?"

Professor Zhou nodded, his voice a little hoarse: "The Academy of Agricultural Sciences is short of funds; this year's budget is just enough to buy reagents. People from Monsanto came last month and said they were willing to donate a new sequencer, on the condition that when they co-author a paper, the first author must be listed under their company's name."

"Donate what?" Ye Yuze took out his phone and made a call to his assistant.
"Send ten of the latest gene sequencers to the Hainan Academy of Agricultural Sciences and build a constant temperature incubation room. The budget is 20 million yuan. They must be in place next week."

He turned to Professor Zhou, "Your doctoral and master's students will each receive an additional 5,000 yuan per month in stipend, and you'll be given whatever research funding they need. But there's one condition—"

Professor Zhou's eyes lit up: "Go on!"

"Work with us to transform 'Haidao No. 8' into the world's most salt-tolerant variety, so that it can be grown not only in Hainan but also in the Gobi Desert in Northwest China."

Ye Yuze's voice was resolute, "The tens of thousands of acres of saline-alkali land in the military reclamation city are waiting for your seeds."

Professor Zhou suddenly gripped his hand, his knuckles turning white: "I've been waiting to hear these words for ten years!"

When they left Hainan, Professor Zhou insisted on giving them a bag of freshly harvested rice seeds.

Ye Yuze tucked the rice seeds into his pocket; even through the fabric, he could feel their heavy weight. Yang Geyong looked at him and suddenly said, "In three months, the core team will be almost complete. But we're still far from having the right equipment. Gene editing instruments, ultra-high magnification microscopes, intelligent greenhouses... all of these have to be imported from Germany or Japan."

"money is not a problem."

Ye Yuze gazed at the coconut groves passing by outside the window, "But we need our own base. The California farm is too conspicuous, and back home... how about the military reclamation city? It's the place where our fathers fought, it's time for some new activity."

The sandstorms in Junken City always carry a tenacious spirit, just like those old soldiers who used to wield hoes to reclaim wasteland.

Ye Yuze stood on the wasteland on the outskirts of the city, the earth cracked beneath his feet, and the poplar forest in the distance swaying in the wind.

This place was once an experimental field of the First Division of the Military Reclamation Army, but it was abandoned due to water shortage. Now it is to be transformed into the domestic headquarters of "Fertile Soil Gene".

"The planning map is out."

Yang Geyong handed over a roll of blueprints. "It covers an area of ​​2,000 mu and will be built in three phases. The first phase will build laboratories and intelligent greenhouses, the second phase will be for field trials, and the third phase will be for a seed storage center. Siemens of Germany has won the bid and will complete the main structure within three months."

Ye Yuze pointed to the "gene bank" area on the drawing:
“We need to add a temperature-controlled storage facility here, the kind that's minus eighty degrees Celsius, capable of storing millions of germplasm resources. I had someone check, and Monsanto's global gene bank holds 580,000 wild crop seeds; we need to surpass them.”

As they were talking, a cloud of dust rose in the distance. Several SUVs stopped by the construction site, and a group of people in work clothes got out. The leader was a dark-skinned man, the former director of the Military Reclamation City Agricultural Research Institute.

"Ye Yuze! You brat, why didn't you say so sooner when you made such a commotion?"

The old director punched him right away, but his eyes were full of warmth:

"When the young people in the institute heard that you were going to do seed research, they wrote applications overnight. Twenty-seven master's students and eight doctoral students all wanted to come!"

Ye Yuze laughed: "Old Director, are you giving me all your assets?"

What does family wealth matter?

The old director pointed to the young people behind him, "These kids are all third-generation military settlers. They grew up toiling in the fields and know how precious seeds are. Monsanto cut off our sugar beet seeds last year, and so many farmers came to the institute crying and begging for seeds. Do you think I didn't know?"

He suddenly lowered his voice, "I brought you a treasure."

The group followed the old director to the old warehouse of the agricultural research institute, where a dozen or so wooden crates were piled up in the corner.

Upon opening the box, one finds layers of cloth bags wrapped around the grain, labeled "1978 Wild Soybeans," "1983 Drought-Resistant Wheat," and "1992 Frost-Resistant Cotton."

"This is the wealth accumulated by our family over generations, containing more than 300 kinds of wild crop germplasm, some of which even Monsanto does not have."

The old director stroked the label on the cloth bag, his voice trembling:
“Back when we went on a scientific expedition to the Kunlun Mountains, we almost fell into a crevice while trying to collect a type of wild wheat. These seeds were more precious than our lives.”

Ye Yuze squatted down and gently untied a cloth bag, inside which the seeds carried the scent of aged herbs and wood.

He suddenly remembered when he was a child, the old soldiers would always select seeds under the lamp, saying that each seed contained the taste of the sun.

“Old director, let’s build a special museum to store these seeds.”

His voice choked with emotion, “We not only have to keep them, but we also have to bring them back to life so that they can grow new crops.”

A month later, tower cranes had already been erected on the construction site in Junken City.

Alan Parker and his team flew in from the United States. Standing in front of the newly completed laboratory, they watched the workers install the German-imported gene sequencer, their eyes filled with amazement.

“Mr. Ye, this equipment is even more advanced than the one at Monsanto’s headquarters.”

He pointed to a silver instrument, "This is the latest CRISPR-Cas9 gene editing system; there are only three in the world at present."

"The fourth unit will be shipped from Japan next week."

Yang Geyong handed him a cup of hot tea. "Your insect-resistant cotton project's experimental field is ready, and the soil sample test report is in your office."

Allen took the report and suddenly pointed to one of the data points: "The soil here has a high level of heavy metals and needs improvement. I suggest planting a crop of alfalfa first, as it can absorb heavy metals and fix nitrogen."

Professor Zhou walked over from the side, holding a rice genome map in his hand:
"Dr. Allen, what do you think of the mitochondrial genes in my 'Sea Rice No. 8'? Could we try epigenetic modification?"

Two scientists of different skin colors huddled together, discussing the blueprints. Sunlight fell on them, and the technical terms, a mix of Chinese and English, floated in the air above the construction site, creating a strange harmony.

Watching this scene, Ye Yuze suddenly said to Yang Geyong:
"Old Yang, do you think we've gone mad? We've poured in eight billion in three months and haven't even heard a sound."

Yang Geyong gazed at the intelligent greenhouse under construction in the distance, its glass curtain wall gleaming in the sunlight:
"Back when you were working on chips, you burned through 20 billion yuan in the first three years, and nobody was optimistic about it, were they?"

"The matter of seeds is about accumulating good karma for future generations. Look at those young people, staying in the lab until midnight every day, forgetting to eat. What are they doing it for? Isn't it so that our farmers in the future can plant their own seeds?"

Just then, Ye Yuze's phone rang; it was his son, Ye Feng, calling.

"Dad, Monsanto has made a move."

Ye Feng's voice was wary, "They just announced that they will build three new seed research and development centers in Asia, and they also said that they would poach our people with high salaries."

Ye Yuze sneered: "Let them come. Do you think you can poach our people with money?"

He paused, then added, "Tell the finance department to allocate another 10 billion to Wotu Gene, and have the purchasing department go to Europe to buy back all the best breeding equipment they can get. If the money isn't enough, add more."

After hanging up the phone, he looked at the busy crowd at the construction site and suddenly remembered a saying his father often said:

"Farming is like fighting a war; seeds are the guns, the land is the battlefield, and people are the soldiers." Now, their battle has only just begun.

California autumn is always accompanied by dry winds, but the atmosphere in the conference room at Monsanto's headquarters was colder than a Siberian cold snap.

The CEO stood in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, watching the protesting farmers below holding signs that read "Reject Genetic Monopoly," his knuckles turning white from gripping the glass.

"How much core data did Alan Parker's team take away?"

He had his back to the executives in the conference room, and his voice was hoarse.

The R&D director turned pale: "The gene sequence of insect-resistant cotton, the epigenetic modification scheme for drought-resistant corn..."

"They even copied our saline-alkali land improvement technology, which we were preparing to patent. Wotu Gene acted too quickly; our legal department hasn't even had time to apply for an injunction."

"A bunch of trash!"

The CEO whirled around, sweeping the coffee cup off the table.
“I told you a month ago to keep an eye on that Ye Yuze! He can make chips and new energy vehicles, so he dares to mess with seeds! Now look what’s happened, his laboratory in the military reclamation city is bigger than ours, and the experts he poached are enough to form three top teams!”

The marketing director nervously handed over a report:
“We have investigated and found that the funding sources of Wotu Gene are very complicated. There is investment from Warrior Group and oil field funds from Yang Geyong. At least 15 billion US dollars have been invested so far, and more are being added.”

"Money?" the CEO sneered.

"Do they think they can get the seeds just by throwing money at them? Monsanto spent a hundred years building up its patent barriers, which can't be broken down with a hundred billion dollars."

Suddenly, a ruthless glint flashed in his eyes. "Notify the Asian region to reduce the price of our 'flagship' seeds by 30% to seize market share. Also, send lawyer's letters to the farmers in Junken City, saying that their wheat cultivation is suspected of infringing on our genetic patents."

The meeting room was silent; no one dared to speak. They all knew this was a price war, and that patent litigation would cripple their competitors.

This is a tactic Monsanto has used for decades, and countless small and medium-sized seed companies have been squeezed out of business this way.

Meanwhile, in Junken City, the laboratory of Wotu Gene was brightly lit.

Professor Zhou and his team observed rice seedlings in the culture room. These seedlings had undergone gene editing, resulting in root systems three times more developed than ordinary rice. Even after being soaked in saline-alkali water for a week, they remained lush and green.

"Professor Zhou, the test results are in!" A young researcher ran over, holding the test report. "The proline content is five times higher than the control group, which means that drought resistance has increased by at least 30%!"

Professor Zhou adjusted his glasses, his eyes shining brighter than the fluorescent lights in the culture room:

“Conduct three more sets of repeated tests. If there are no problems, apply for a patent. Remember, the patent must be applied for simultaneously in major agricultural countries around the world. We cannot leave any loopholes for Monsanto.”

In the lab next door, Alan Parker was staring at an electron microscope, the screen displaying the genetic sequence of the cotton bollworm.

His team found a key gene locus that, when edited, could cause cotton to produce a special protein that would sterilize bollworms.

"found it!"

He slammed his hand on the table. "This site isn't in Monsanto's patent database!" The team members cheered instantly, some even hugging each other in excitement.

Ye Yuze and Yang Geyong stood at the laboratory door, watching this scene, and smiled at each other.

Yang Geyong took out his phone, and the screen showed a message he had just received: Monsanto has lowered the price of its seeds in Asia.

"They've started applying pressure?" Ye Yuze raised an eyebrow.

"What are you afraid of?"

Yang Geyong retrieved the financial statements of the Warriors Group:

"Our cash flow is enough to support a five-year price war. Besides, the more they lower their prices, the more they lose."

He suddenly laughed, “I had someone check Monsanto’s inventory. Thirty percent of their ‘flagship’ seeds are processed in our military reclamation city. Now all those processing plants have signed exclusive agreements with us.”

Ye Yuze gazed out the window at the experimental field, where the newly sown wheat had already sprouted green shoots, appearing as a verdant expanse under the moonlight.

I want……