Reborn a day later, I emptied my enemy's possessions beforehand.

Zhou Haibing smiled, turned and left the pond, heading towards the planting area.

Before his rebirth, he emptied his pharmaceutical factory, which contained a large quantity of Chinese medicinal herb seeds.

Astragalus, Angelica sinensis, Codonopsis pilosula, Lycium barbarum, Poria cocos, Atractylodes macrocephala, Glycyrrhiza uralensis, Bupleurum chinense, Scutellaria baicalensis, Salvia miltiorrhiza, Ligusticum chuanxiong, Rehmannia glutinosa (raw and processed), Ophiopogon japonicus, Asparagus cochinchinensis, Schisandra chin

Dozens of varieties, each packed in a paper bag labeled with its name, were swept into Shennong Space from the pharmaceutical factory's seed bank.

He also scavenged those precious medicinal herbs from his father, Zhou Fuxiang—

Cordyceps sinensis, wild ginseng, deer antler, Ganoderma lucidum, saffron, and Dendrobium officinale. The wild ginseng was of excellent quality and was carefully placed in a separate jade box, where it was still quietly in the preservation area.

He walked to a flat piece of land, bent down, and placed his palms on the soil.

The soil was warm and soft, with a subtle, almost pulsating feel, as if the earth itself was breathing in a slow and drawn-out rhythm.

He closed his eyes, his mind encompassing that land—as the absolute ruler of the Shennong Space, he could control everything here at will, including the land.

With a thought, neat furrows automatically appeared on the ground, uniform in depth and spacing, as if precisely drawn by an invisible plow.

With another thought, the medicinal seeds in the paper bags flew up one by one, as if drawn by invisible threads, falling towards their respective areas—

Astragalus fell on a wide, flat area, Angelica sinensis fell in a slightly shady spot, and Codonopsis pilosula fell in a moist area near a river; each of them fell in the most suitable place for their growth.

The seeds fell densely into the prepared furrows like a light rain, quickly and accurately, with dozens of varieties sown at the same time, not a single one missing.

He stood beside the newly sown land, feeling the presence of the seeds beneath the soil.

They were too small to be seen with the naked eye, but his mind could sense them quietly settling down deep in the soil, like countless tiny but precise beginnings, waiting for their own activation signal.

He turned and walked to the riverbank, squatted down, scooped up a handful of river water, and brought it to his mouth.

The water had an unexpected crispness when it entered my mouth; it wasn't icy, but it carried a coolness that rose from deep within.

Like the dew that hasn't melted in the mountains in the early morning, as it slides down your throat, it feels like your whole body has been gently cleansed from the inside out.

Zhou Haibing took a few more sips; the refreshing sensation spread down his esophagus to his stomach, and then from his stomach to his limbs and bones.

He felt every pore on his body opening slightly, and he felt an indescribable sense of comfort.

He couldn't resist taking another sip, then stood up. With a thought, a thin column of water shot up from the river, like a silver thread held by an invisible hand.

It traces an arc in the air, landing precisely above the newly sown seed area, transforming into a fine mist that evenly sprinkles onto the soil.

He then directed the water jet toward the grain area, where wheat seeds, already planted by his mind, lay quietly in the soil, awaiting nourishment from both water and spiritual energy.

The water mist fell, soaking the surface soil and creating a moist, glistening sheen under the soft light.

He straightened up and stood beside the watered land, his gaze slowly sweeping across the neat rows of furrows, as if inspecting an army that had just set up camp.

Those seeds were buried in the deepest darkness, but he knew they were moving—

It is absorbing water, expanding, and being nourished by the spiritual energy of this space, accumulating strength for breaking through the soil.

He didn't know how long he stood there, perhaps a long time, perhaps a short time. In this space, the rhythm of time flowed differently from the outside world.

The longer he stayed there, the more he felt that subtle sense of disorientation—

Every second here seems heavier than outside, like compacted grains of sand falling heavily onto a slower scale.

He suddenly remembered something—

He's been in the Shennong Space for so long, is it already dawn outside?

He abruptly snapped out of his daze, exited the Shennong Space, and opened his eyes.

dark.

The bamboo poles at the top of the mosquito net had a faint gray outline in the darkness.

He turned his head to the side; it was still dark outside the window, and the moon's position was almost unchanged from when he went in.

He reached under the pillow and touched the metal case of the old pocket watch with his fingertips; it was cool and smooth.

He picked it up and examined it in the moonlight—

During the time he was busy in Shennong Space, he felt that at least a dozen hours had passed, but the two hands on the dial told him that less than twenty minutes had passed outside.

He blinked, then looked again to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

Zhou Haibing put the pocket watch back under the pillow, the smile on his lips becoming more pronounced than before.

The flow of time in Shennong Space is different from that in the real world.

He stayed inside for more than ten hours, while only a dozen minutes passed outside.

Time flows much faster in that space than outside, perhaps tens or even hundreds of times faster.

This means that the medicinal herbs and crops he planted in the Shennong Space will soon sprout, grow, and be harvested, and he only needs to wait one night in the real world to see the results.

He turned to his side; Li Su'e was still fast asleep in his arms, her breathing even and peaceful.

Her face was half-buried in the edge of the pillow, and the moonlight fell on the exposed half of her face, giving her skin a soft silver glow. The corners of her mouth still had that slightly relaxed smile that only comes with sleep.

His gaze slid from her brow to the bridge of her nose, and from there to her lips. Her lips were a pale rose color, slightly darker than during the day.

Perhaps because they had just experienced a passionate encounter, like a petal that had been gently opened and had not yet fully closed.

His fingers gently rested on her shoulder, his palm sliding down the curve of her arm to her chest.

When I placed my palm on it, I felt a soft and warm curve; even in my sleep, the touch had a full and elastic quality.

Like a ripe peach held in his palm, through the thin inner garment, he could feel her heartbeat beneath her skin, slow and steady.

His fingers didn't apply pressure; they simply rested quietly there, savoring the warm, uniquely her touch.

It's like holding onto something that already belongs to him; there's no need to hold on tight anymore, and no fear of losing it.

He closed his eyes, and his thoughts receded like the tide, his consciousness sliding down the gentle slope into a deep, peaceful darkness.