Lord blessed by the elves

Chapter 26 Planting
At that moment, the boy, with a hint of urgency in his eyes, stopped in front of Wilstone and pounded his right fist heavily on his left chest—a still somewhat awkward but extremely earnest knightly salute.

"Sir Knight! The young master is waiting for you in the sweet potato field!" Aiding tried to calm his breathing, his voice clear and youthful. "He ordered me to find you immediately. Please be sure to go there as soon as possible!"

"Purple root potato field?" Wilstone's thick eyebrows furrowed instantly, and a look of confusion crossed his bronze face.

This time?

Why did the young master suddenly run off there?

Wasn't the young master discussing the promotion of alfalfa with Buffet this morning?
Could it be that there was a problem with that old guy Camis's trial planting?
Or did something unexpected happen?
An inexplicable worry, like a cold vine, quietly crept into Wilstone's heart.

Purple sweet potatoes represent the future of the territory, but also harbor unknown risks.

He knew the young master's character well; unless it was something urgent, he would never have summoned him to that remote place so urgently.

"Understood!" Wilstone replied in a deep voice, his soldier's instincts instantly overriding any doubts.

Without asking any more questions, he grabbed the sword hanging on the back of the chair and neatly fastened it to his waist, the heavy chainmail making a clanging sound.

"Aidin, keep up!"

Before he finished speaking, Wilstone had already strode out of the study like an arrow released from a bow, his heavy leather boots making a rapid and powerful echo on the stone slabs.

Aidin dared not delay and quickly followed, the young man's slightly thin figure trying to keep up with the knight commander's steady and swift back, which was like an iron tower.

Wilstone led Edin to the newly established purple sweet potato experimental field located on a leeward hillside.

The sight before him made him abruptly stop in his tracks, swallowing back the question that was about to come out of his mouth.

The small hillside, which was originally overgrown with weeds and full of jagged rocks, has now been mostly cleared away.

Dozens of serfs were working hard under Kruse's command, sweating profusely.

Using simple wooden hoes and shovels, they carefully dug out fist-sized, irregularly shaped sweet potatoes with an eerie deep purple skin from the loose soil!
What shocked Wilstone was not the serfs digging for potatoes, but the sheer number of purple sweet potatoes on the hillside!

They did not grow in a concentrated area of ​​the small experimental field, but rather, like being scattered by a mischievous child, they sprouted here and there in clusters and patches, stubbornly emerging from every corner of the hillside and spreading along the slope!
Roughly estimated, this wild purple sweet potato, which has grown wild and untamed, covers an area of ​​more than half an acre!
Kruse was standing on a higher part of the hillside, holding a freshly dug purple sweet potato still covered in fresh soil in his hand, his face showing a mixture of surprise and "I knew it" expression.

He clearly never expected that this barren hill, which everyone considered a useless place, would become a natural paradise for purple sweet potatoes!

"Stop!" Kruse suddenly shouted, his loud voice echoing across the hillside, and all the serfs stopped what they were doing.

"Carefully sort the dug-out tubers! Collect the branches and leaves as well! Carefully pile them in that shady place over there, being careful not to break the skin! Cut the purple sweet potato stems into palm-length pieces to serve as seedlings for planting." His thinking was extremely clear, and he immediately changed his strategy.

He strode to a newly cleared slope and picked up a seed stalk with a slanted cut on it.

Under the astonished gazes of Wilstone and all the serfs, Kruse demonstrated himself. He used a stick to poke a deep hole vertically in the slope, and then inserted the purple sweet potato seed tuber vertically into the soil with extreme precision, leaving only about one-third of the top and the bud exposed.

This is also because the Lion Fang Territory is too arid; it hasn't rained for more than a month since Kruze returned.

"Look carefully!" He stood up, his voice carrying an unquestionable authority, issuing the order with a precision akin to directing a meticulously planned battle.

"The seedling must be inserted vertically into the soil, to a depth of about two-thirds!"

"Line spacing—keep it between 80 and 100 centimeters!"

"Plant spacing—sixty to eighty centimeters!"

"The total number of plants per acre should be kept to no more than 1,000! It's better to be sparse than to have too many plants crammed together!"

As he spoke, he measured the ground with his footsteps, drawing invisible lines.

Although the serfs only vaguely understood the instructions, they would carry them out meticulously, as demonstrated by the young master himself.

Wilstone could no longer contain the turmoil in his heart!

His mouth gaped open, almost wide enough to fit an egg, his bronze face etched with disbelief. He strode to Kruze's side, lowered his voice, and asked incredulously, "Young Master! How...how do you know all this? This...this precise spacing, this planting technique..."

This is by no means an experience that can be summarized by observing wild purple sweet potatoes; it is clearly a mature, systematic, and even "scientific" planting procedure!

Kruse patted the dirt off his hands, turned his head, and gave a mysterious smile, as if to say, "What's the big deal?"

He pointed to his head, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather: "So, Wilstone, you should read more books. Do you think those mages' hemostatic powder fell from the sky? Purple yams are an important source of raw materials for them! Do you think they would let such an important thing rely entirely on wild gathering?"

He paused, his eyes revealing a knowing understanding of the world. "Large-scale, stable production is what they need! These planting 'tricks' are nothing more than 'standard procedures' that the mage tower has figured out to increase yield and ensure quality. I just happened to see some related records in the notes of some mages."

Wilstone stood frozen, watching Kruse's nonchalant manner, as if he had simply pulled a common sense manual from the bookshelf, and then watching the serfs around him begin to clumsily but earnestly follow the instructions of "eighty centimeters" and "one thousand plants."
He suddenly came to his senses, as if he had been awakened, and nodded repeatedly. The shock in his heart was gradually replaced by a heartfelt admiration.

So that's how it is! Wisdom from the Dharma Master!

The young master even knows this!

He looked at the barren hillside that was being replanned and planted with tubers, and for the first time clearly felt that those purple tubers buried deep in the ground might really carry the power to change the fate of Lion Fang Territory!

"What are you all standing there for?" Kruse's voice carried a hint of mischievous laughter as he patted Wilstone's arm guard. "Go, have someone take these purple sweet potatoes back. I'll teach you how to deal with their toxicity."

(End of this chapter)