Handong: Sha Li wants political achievements? I'll shut down the entire province.

Li Dakang was pushed out of the Lingxiao Building in a daze.

The cold wind outside, carrying autumn rain, blew straight into his wide-open collar.

He shuddered and stared intently at the metallic seed in his palm.

The seed coat had sharp edges, which were rough to the touch and made his palms turn red.

Can just a few pieces of junk really save the lives of tens of millions of people in Handong?

"This stuff...can it really be eaten as a meal?"

Li Dakang swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down twice.

The tube of dark green liquid sloshed in his suit pocket, its cool liquid clinging to his thigh through the fabric.

"Secretary Li! Get in the car quickly!"

Secretary Xiao Wang ran over holding a black umbrella, the ribs of which were blown inside out by the wind, and rainwater poured down the edge of the umbrella.

"Hurry back to the municipal party committee! Secretary Sha is so anxious he's smashed two thermos cups!"

Xiao Wang wiped the cold rain off his face, his voice trembling.

Li Dakang gritted his teeth, bent down, and climbed into the car.

"Call Lao Liu at the Construction Bureau and tell him to clear out all the warehouses in those empty logistics parks in the south of the city."

Xiao Wang was stunned, clutching the umbrella handle, at a loss for what to do.

"Why are we clearing out the warehouse? We can't even collect a single stale sesame seed now!"

"Stop talking nonsense! Master Yan has spoken, do as he says!"

Li Dakang grabbed a tissue and wiped his face haphazardly, his hands shaking so badly that the tissue was falling apart.

"Let's try anything, otherwise we'll all be devoured by the people as soon as the sun comes out tomorrow."

The next morning, in the desolate outskirts of Handong.

The sky was still dark, shrouded in a hazy gray mist.

The wasteland left behind after the foreign capital withdrew from the south of the city was filled with mud pits and overgrown with weeds that were half a person tall.

"Waaaaah—waaaah—"

The piercing air raid sirens ripped through the clouds over Gyeongju without warning.

The sound was shrill, causing a sharp pain in the eardrums.

The residents of the nearby shantytown were so frightened that they ran out of their houses without even putting on shoes, wearing only old cotton-padded coats.

"What's going on? Is there going to be a war?"

An old man stood with his hands tucked in, sniffling from the cold, his feet sinking into the mud.

"Is there a food shortage? Is there a riot outside?"

The middle-aged woman next to him was deathly pale, clutching the half-bag of cornmeal in her arms tightly, her eyes darting around nervously.

Presidential Suite at the Bulgari Hotel in Beijing.

The heating was on full blast, and a thin layer of condensation covered the French windows.

Mike, the Greater China president of the international agricultural oligopoly Group A, was slowly slicing a medium-rare steak on his plate.

Blood seeped from the silver blade, staining the edge of the white porcelain plate.

He picked up the Blue Mountain coffee beside him, blew on it to cool it down, and took a sip.

"Has the riot started in Handong?" he asked his assistant in broken Chinese.

The assistant hunched over, smiling obsequiously, his face crinkling with wrinkles.

"Mr. Mike, they can't hold on. You can't even buy a rat dropping on the market."

The assistant pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

"Those peasants, when they're starving, they'll even eat dirt. That nouveau riche Yan Qingfeng will have to kneel down and beg us to open our granaries before noon today."

Mike cut off a piece of bloody meat and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing it until juices flowed freely.

"No rush. Let them starve to death a few people, then we'll double the price of grain."

He pulled a pure white napkin to wipe his mouth, his blue eyes filled with arrogant disdain.

Top floor of Lingxiao Building, Handong.

Yan Qingfeng stood in front of the panoramic floor-to-ceiling window, one hand in his suit trouser pocket.

With his other hand, he fiddled with the custom-made silver lighter.

"Click, click."

The flames were a pale blue, flickering on and off, reflecting off his expressionless face.

Zhou Yuan, with a toothpick in his mouth, approached the control panel and began typing rapidly on the virtual keyboard.

"Master Yan, the drone matrix is ​​fully mounted."

Zhou Yuan spat out the toothpick and rubbed his red, swollen eyes.

"Damn it, those foreign devils are still dreaming. This time, we've really opened their eyes."

Yan Qingfeng didn't turn around, his gaze fixed on the gray skyline outside the window.

He raised his hand and casually snapped his fingers.

The crisp sound echoed through the quiet office.

"Unlock the hidden module." Yan Qingfeng's voice was cold. "Lingxiao Agriculture, start."

The dark gold logo on the control panel flashed wildly, then turned into a glaring scarlet red.

"Beep! Cloud System's highest privileges have been granted access."

The mechanically synthesized female voice echoed throughout the entire floor, devoid of any warmth.

"Climate microwave control unit, activated. High-frequency growth nutrient solution, ready for injection."

Above that wasteland south of the city.

Suddenly, a muffled buzzing sound came from inside.

The sound grew louder and louder, even causing ripples to spread across the muddy puddles on the ground.

The elderly people stared wide-eyed, craning their necks to look up at the sky.

Dark shadows emerged from the clouds.

Not ten, not a hundred.

That's 100,000 heavy industrial-grade drones!

The dark gold paint gleamed with a cold metallic sheen under the gloomy sky.

They were like a vast swarm of steel locusts, instantly covering the entire wasteland and suburbs of Handong.

"What...what is this thing? Have aliens attacked?"

The old man was so frightened that he sat down on the muddy ground, getting covered in mud.

The hatches on the underside of the drones popped open in unison.

"laugh--"

The ear-piercing screech of the air valves filled the air.

Countless seeds with a metallic sheen crashed into the soft soil like a torrential rain.

Immediately afterwards, a dark green mist of water sprayed out of the nozzle.

That was the "high-frequency growth-inducing nutrient solution" brewed by Lingxiao's laboratory.

As the green mist descended, a strong, pungent, raw, and fishy smell instantly filled the air.

The choking fumes caused onlookers to cover their noses and sneeze several times.

"Master Yan, the microwave is on."

Zhou Yuan yelled at the top of his lungs on the other end of the line and slammed his hand heavily on a red Enter key.

On the wasteland, a strange change suddenly occurred.

Suddenly, white smoke began to rise from the cold, yellow earth.

A wave of heat swept over the ground, and the surface temperature rose visibly.

Those seeds, with their metallic sheen, had just come into contact with the green mist and warm soil.

A soft, crisp "click" sounded.

The metal casing cracked open.

A tender green bud, like a living thing, twisted and pushed its way out of the soil.

"Oh my god! It's a ghost!"

The woman slapped her thigh, scattering the cornmeal she was holding all over the ground.

She didn't care about the heartache; her eyes were fixed on the patch of wasteland at her feet.

One inch, two inches, half a meter!

The green plants looked like they were on fast forward.

It visibly grows taller, shoots out, and grows broad leaves.

The roots deep in the soil were making a "crunching" sound as they grew and squeezed.

It sent chills down one's spine.

At this moment, the Yunxiao holographic terminals throughout the entire Handong province forcibly displayed this image.

Whether it's ordinary citizens shivering in their beds or rice scalpers sleeping on the ground outside grain stores to grab rice.

Everyone's attention was drawn to the virtual screen in mid-air.

Li Dakang stood in the municipal party committee office, his hands gripping the glass window tightly.

His nose was pressed against the glass, and his breath smudged a large area.

"It...it's grown?" His voice cracked, like a male duck whose neck had been stepped on.

Sha Ruijin stood behind him, holding the purple clay cup in his hand for a long time, but he couldn't bring it to his lips.

"Old Li, am I seeing things?"

Sha Ruijin swallowed hard, his eyes twitching.

"Only a few hours have passed, and those wheat ears... how come they're already turning yellow?"

In the picture.

The once barren, muddy loess land has now been transformed into an endless expanse of golden wheat fields.

Each ear of wheat was as thick as a baby's forearm, its weight bending the stalks.

When the wind blows, the wheat waves roll, carrying a sweet aroma that drives people crazy.

Bulgari Hotel, Beijing.

Mike leaned back on the sofa, listening to his assistant report the latest rice prices on the black market in Handong.

"President, the price has already doubled..."

Before the assistant could finish speaking, Mike accidentally bumped the edge of the coffee table with the remote control in his hand.

The TV screen suddenly tripped, forcibly switching to a holographic signal.

Mike squinted his blue eyes, staring at the golden yellow on the screen.

He picked up the Blue Mountain coffee on the table, but stopped just as he brought it to his lips.

"Where...where did you find this farm promotional video?"

Mike frowned and turned to his assistant, asking, "Has Handong's PR department gone mad?"

The assistant's mouth was agape, his jaw almost dropping to his chest.

He pointed to the constantly flashing red words "Handong Live Broadcast" in the lower right corner of the screen, his hand shaking as if he had Parkinson's disease.

"Mr. Mike... this, this is not a promotional video."

The assistant stammered, his voice filled with a ghostly fear.

"The coordinates shown here... indicate the logistics park south of Jingzhou City!"

Mike was stunned.

He stared at the incredibly thick ears of wheat on the screen, and the steel drones that hadn't yet flown away in the sky.

"Impossible! Yesterday it was a muddy field!"

He suddenly stood up, and because of the sudden movement, his knee knocked over a porcelain plate on the coffee table.

Clang!

A half-cut steak fell onto the carpet, its blood mixed with black pepper sauce, staining the floor.

Mike could barely hold his coffee cup.

With a crisp "clatter," the bone china cup shattered on his toes, splashing scalding coffee directly onto his designer trousers.

He couldn't even feel the heat anymore.

Those blue eyes were filled with horror as she gripped the back of the sofa so tightly her nails were almost splitting.

"This is fucking... farming?" Mike gasped for breath, the sound of wind breaking through his chest.

He turned to look at his equally dumbfounded assistant, his fat face twitched, and his voice completely changed.

"That bastard Yan Qingfeng, is he doing agriculture or performing magic?!"