Courtyard House: My Time Travel is a Bit Too Strong

The van drove out of Wangjia Village, circled around the outskirts of Ningzhou, and after more than an hour, it returned with all the chickens, in their original cages, without missing a single one.

For the next five days, around 1:40 a.m., the gray-blue truck would start up precisely on time, its headlights cutting through the night, heading in an unknown direction, before quietly turning back.

"Three thousand acres of land, 62,000 live chickens, not even counting the chicks that have just hatched in the chicken coop."

"We need to keep a close eye on tax payments. If someone reports it, the back taxes and fines alone could keep us dealing with this for half a year."

Farmers raise dozens of eggs in a free-range manner, selling them for oil and salt, without having to pay taxes.

With his scale of operations, zero declarations? Sooner or later someone will call 12366 (the Chinese emergency number).

The chickens were all supplied by the system; we didn't spend a single penny on chicks, feed, or vaccines.

"From now on, try to transfer fewer chickens from the system. Find a knowledgeable manager and entrust the entire chicken farm to him."

The next morning at 6:30, villagers from Wangjia Village began to enter Feida Chicken Farm.

With four permanent employees, they can collect a maximum of 28,000 items a day; the rest depends on the villagers.

Each person carried a snakeskin bag, bent over, picked up eggs, put them in baskets, weighed them, and collected orders... Once a thousand eggs were collected, they were handed over to the factory on the spot, and then resold in the village, immediately doubling in price.

Feida eggs are priced uniformly at three yuan each in the Ningzhou market, with an anti-counterfeiting code, and delivered directly via cold chain.

Lin Quan knew very well: if the entire area hadn't been covered with high-definition cameras, some villagers would have already secretly kept the eggs to hatch second-generation chickens.

The chickens sold to Hengpu Restaurant were all first-generation system chickens that had been slaughtered and cleaned.

The second-generation chickens that are privately raised in the village are currently only about the size of an adult's fist, and their feathers haven't fully grown in yet.

What about the quality? Nobody has tried it, and nobody dares to send it for testing.

But Lin Quan knew in his heart: the first generation was directly produced by the system, and the genes were locked; the second generation relied on natural reproduction, which would inevitably lead to a decline.

"It's more cost-effective and less troublesome for villagers to collect eggs than to hire someone."

On the morning of the third day, Lin Quan drove his four-wheel drive SUV into the Ningzhou Talent Market.

After two days of screening, Li Yunxiang, a middle-aged man, was selected.

He is 48 years old, his wife and children are all local, he has a thick household registration book and a clean resume. He worked as an accountant for the first ten years and managed the accounts of three breeding cooperatives for the next eight years.

A monthly salary of 10,000 yuan, with a contract signed on the spot.

Lin Quan provided five people with full social insurance and housing fund benefits that day... four veteran employees plus Li Yunxiang.

"Boss, the site rent is 150 million, and the chicken coop infrastructure is 23 million, both of which are considered fixed asset investments. According to Xia Guo's tax law, 70% of this portion can be offset against the taxable income for the year." Li Yunxiang opened his notebook and pointed it out to Lin Quan.

"Does that mean if I don't earn 100 million within three years, I won't have to pay a single penny in taxes?"

"Yes. But the forms for this newspaper must be complete, down to the last detail."

"You handle the tax filing; I don't care about the numbers."

"This is my job." Li Yunxiang closed the notebook.

The chicken farm has a daily turnover of 92,000 and an annual revenue of approximately 34 million. At this rate, it will indeed have zero tax payable within three years.

Once the person was handed over, Lin Quan felt much lighter.

The chicks grow bigger every day, but only one hundred adult chickens are sold each day.

Sixty-two thousand adult chickens can last for sixteen months without any problem.

With more free time, he mostly spent it killing chickens in the system space.

"After hacking away for three or four days, with dead chickens piled up like mountains, we finally managed to get an attack technique."

With a clenched fist, the ball of light dissipated, and a passage of text was imprinted directly into his mind.

The Qingyang Gong has nine levels and cultivates innate true qi.

Once back in the experience chicken coop, one hit takes one down, and the experience bar steadily climbs.

After consuming 1,000 mortal-level experience points, the Qingyang Skill reached its first level.

The original ninety years of internal energy from the Blue Sun Technique were completely transformed and condensed into ten years of pure innate true energy.

With a deep breath, the attack became even faster, and the experienced chickens fell more swiftly.

"Ninety years of innate true energy have filled the level, and the ninth level has automatically reached perfection."

Returning to the rooster enclosure, he pointed his index finger, and an invisible burst of energy shot out, striking a rooster squarely between the eyebrows.

"As expected, it has strong penetrating power; it didn't even lift a hair."

The energy was silent and invisible, yet it pierced through three chicken heads in succession, and its momentum was not yet exhausted.

"It's powerful enough, and it flies fast."

He drew his cleaver and switched to close-quarters slashing.

"The drop rate is too low. Let's move to another location... get some chicken coop gear and find a handy weapon first."

Stepping into the chicken coop, he immediately started racking up kills.

"Assault rifle?"

Reach out and touch it, and the parameters instantly appear: fully automatic, magazine capacity of thirty rounds, unlimited ammunition.

"Are assault rifles considered equipment?"

"Anything that's usable is equipment. A kitchen knife can cut meat, a rifle can shoot a chicken—what's the difference?"

Lin Quan held his gun, his finger steadily pressing the trigger. One after another, the equipped chickens fell to the ground, their bodies scattering into white light in a flash.

He slightly raised his wrist, gently turned the gun, and aimed it at the chicken's head. Bang... The head exploded, without any hesitation.

"One shot, one kill, all hits."

"One shot, one corn; never missed."

He remained calm and composed, aiming and firing, then aiming again and firing once more. The bullet whizzed through the air, and the chicken's head exploded with a thud.

"Change the circle. First the superpowered chicken, then the medicine chicken."

Inside the superpowered chicken enclosure, he didn't stop moving, gunshots rang out in rapid succession: "Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The chickens had barely flapped their wings when their heads were already shattered into pieces, their bodies vanished without a trace.

"It's out!"

He strode forward, reached out and grasped... the ball of light melted instantly upon entering his palm. Danger was foreseen, and he had it.

After clearing out several hundred more, no more light orbs appeared.

Moving into the experience chicken coop, the gunfire continued.

"Danger prediction has been upgraded to level nine."

Back at the villa, I filled a tub halfway with hot water, soaked in it, and the steam rose.

After returning several missed calls, he drove straight to the night market outside the film studio.

Zhao Yanxi sat in a corner of the barbecue stall, eating skewers alone, with seven or eight beer bottles piled up on the table beside her.

"Teacher Zhao." Lin Quan walked over.

She looked up, her eyes misty, and leaned against his shoulder.

He paid the bill, helped her into the car, and took her back to her residence.

As soon as the door closed, the gentle and intellectual Ms. Zhao suddenly grabbed his collar, her fingertips burning hot.

Lin Quan neither dodged nor tried to dissuade him, but went with the flow.

The next morning, Zhao Yanxi opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a long time.

"Teacher Zhao, last night...last night..." Lin Quan began, but didn't finish his sentence.

"It's not your fault." She bit her lower lip, her voice low but clear.

He glanced at the torn button on the corner of the bed and the crooked lamp base: "I'll pay for it."

"You can leave." She turned her back to him. "I don't need you to stay with me."

Lin Quan got up and left, driving to the mall. Passersby stared at him, but he ignored them and returned carrying large and small bags.

"Why are you here again?" Zhao Yanxi frowned.

Gu Fei stood at the door, carrying two paper bags in her hands.

"Teacher Zhao, are you alright?" He handed over the bag.

"I'm fine," she shook her head.

"You drank so much by yourself yesterday...can you tell me about it?"

She paused for three seconds before speaking.

Lin Quan listened and smiled silently to herself: they had been together for more than two years, and she wouldn't even let him touch her, yet in the end she ended up in his hands.

He looked up and examined her... Her features were regular, her figure was well-proportioned, and her temperament was clean and neat. She wasn't the kind of pretty that was superficial; she was the kind of pretty that could withstand close scrutiny.

"Teacher Zhao," he smiled, "it's getting late, let me treat you to dinner."