Will the kemonomimi encounter Alien Ranch Story?

The empty room was eerily quiet. Apart from her own breathing and the occasional ticking of the unidentified device beside the bed, there was no other sound. This made the girl involuntarily think of the deathly silent tunnels of the mine, where everyone was doing their best to conserve their last bit of strength, as if saying one more word could consume their remaining energy and heat and lead to death.

"Is this what they call the workshop?" The girl turned her head left and right as much as she could, but unfortunately, there was nothing interesting about the room, with light black walls that matched the floor.

There was no furniture, if you could say the pile of planks in the corner wasn't some kind of furniture. There was no roar of machines, no sign of human activity; it was like a quiet ruin, only this ruin was unusually warm—yes, unusually warm.

The girl felt the room temperature was just right through her arm sticking out from under the covers.

Even on a sunny day, the chilly breeze was firmly kept out of the walls, which made her very curious.

Born into an ordinary middle-class family, she had no chance to enjoy the luxurious houses that only the nobility had. But at the very least, her grandfather's farmhouse certainly wasn't as warm as this house.

"That person..." After looking around the house, the girl remembered the strange man. At first, she thought he was a heavily armed soldier who was tracking her, but for some reason he started fighting with the guards who were chasing her, and he even used a strange gun.

Next, I was taken to a strange room that looked like a slaughterhouse and placed inside a strange machine. The moving mechanical arms moved back and forth on my body. The strange man told me that this was to treat my Oripathy.

Thinking of this, the girl raised her arm. The crystals on her shoulder seemed to have completely disappeared. She paused for a moment, then carefully reached out and touched the wound wrapped in sterile gauze. Apart from the slight stinging pain from the suturing itself, she felt nothing.

It was as if the Oripathy crystals that had tormented her for years were just an unreal dream, and then her waist, abdomen, and thighs experienced only the normal pain of healing.

"Really cured?" The girl looked at her hands, completely incredulous. This terminal illness could actually be cured in such a short time. She buried her face in her hands and began to cry silently.

I can't explain why I'm crying, nor can I say whether it's the joy of finally escaping suffering and torment, or the sorrow and pain from the bottom of my heart. It's a feeling that is completely indescribable, a mixture of emotions. Only the first human emotional action: crying can express the feelings at this moment.

For the first time since she was old enough to understand, she felt relaxed and free to move around without holding her breath in pain from muscle strain. This made the girl move around excitedly.

It wasn't until the IV tubing in her hand swept all the bottles and jars on the bedside table to the floor that she realized she was still in a hospital bed and seemed to have caused the owner of the workshop a lot of trouble. She smiled shyly, lay back down, and pulled the blanket over to cover half of her face.

"Oh, you're awake?" Xia Lin came upstairs and saw the girl looking at him with her bright eyes. He smiled wearily, picked up the bottle from the ground and put it away, then checked the IV drip and the vital signs monitor—"She's recovering quite well."

The recovery is indeed quite good. Apart from the blood particle count spiked to 0.27 u/L again, all other vital signs are much normal.

“There’s some low blood sugar and inflammation, but it’s not too serious…” Xia Lin nodded and took out a bottle. “This contains glucose solution. If you feel dizzy, take a sip. I’ll get you an IV drip first. Starting tomorrow, you can eat liquid food… Ah, but then again, I don’t have any other food here.”

"Thanks……"

"No need to thank me. I saved you for a reason; I need a helper to do the work..."

That's the truth. This girl is quite young, and by Star Alliance standards, she's illiterate. But at least she can help with some farm work and odd jobs.

"Just...that?"

"Otherwise what?" Xia Lin pointed to his shoulder. "I carried water pipes eight times today, and I have to carry them at least eight more times tomorrow. I also have to dig a reservoir, repair machinery, and then clear the frozen soil outside to build a second greenhouse. There's so much work to do. You're not trying to freeload, are you?"

Although the girl is pretty, Xia Lin needs a helper for farm work right now. As the saying goes, when people are well-fed and warm, they think of lust. We're almost out of food, who the hell has the mood for that? Not to mention, she's skin and bones and it's uncomfortable to look at her!

"Your...name..."

"Xia Lin, what about you?"

"Yelena..."

"Oh, Ye Xiaomei, I'll call you Lena from now on..."

"Uh..." The girl wanted to say that it wasn't a surname, but she sighed and said nothing. Besides, it wasn't a bad thing; at least she wouldn't get into trouble because of her name.

“That day you… killed those guards. They were from the nearby mines. If they go missing, more people will come. Please… be careful,” Yelena warned. She didn’t want to drag others down with her, even though it seemed like he had jumped in himself.

"Huh? Damn, I'll have to find some time to set up the machine gun." Xia Lin was immediately at a loss.

"?" Is there something wrong with this man, or is there something wrong with my common sense? Shouldn't a normal person ask something else? Also, machine gun... what is that? Is it a kind of gun?

Chapter Eight: Snowfield Guerrilla

chapter eight

"Zzzzz—" Electric sparks danced and leaped on the metal pipe. Holding the metal pipe in one hand and the welding gun in the other, he looked at his work with satisfaction, inserted the fence that looked like a car crash barrier into the ground, and drove a 20-centimeter-long expansion bolt into the fixing pile.

Next, he drags over the pile of newly produced carbon fiber composite panels and inserts them into the grooves. These panels are then fixed to the frame with simple bolts. On average, he can complete a section of the protective wall about 6 meters long in about 30 minutes.

These protective panels are not seamlessly joined together; there are openings between each section of the wall, which are then sealed with reinforced wire mesh or wooden stakes.

After Xia Lin installed the base behind the gap, the industrial drones that had not been used before in order to save the drones' lifespan were responsible for completing the construction and assembly of these gun emplacements, as well as the welding and assembly of the other fences around them.

The "Sentinel X" automated defense system is a standard colonial light defense system with a modular design. In addition to its non-replaceable main weapon, it can also be equipped with items such as flare launchers, anti-aircraft missiles, flamethrowers, and light laser cannons.

The main weapon is a twin-barreled 10mm light machine gun, which uses inexpensive, lightweight carbon-iron bullets. These iron-core bullets are wrapped in a layer of graphite carbon shell, which burns rapidly after leaving the barrel, causing the inner iron core to heat up and expand. Upon contact with the target's flesh, the core cools and cracks rapidly, resulting in severe puncture damage.

These are munitions specifically designed to kill unprotected living organisms, primarily intended for addressing biological contamination or invasion problems in colonies, not for fighting humans or any other intelligent civilization.

Of course, it's not impossible to use it for warfare, as long as the enemy hasn't invented protective gear that can withstand hypersonic projectiles of Mach 6 or higher.

Since Xia Lin didn't bring many equipment parts, he could only assemble a maximum of five such defensive towers. After that, he would have to switch to gunpowder-based firearms that he could produce.

He could produce seamless steel pipes and every component of ancient gunpowder weapons. Once the plantation began producing cotton and minerals like nitrates were found, ammunition could also be mass-produced.

Moreover, the production volume is very high—it's just that using nano-honeycombs to manufacture this kind of thing is a bit... wasteful.

On the other side of the snow forest, flames spread like weeds across the wasteland. Guards, in their fear, threw Molotov cocktails haphazardly, setting their own tents ablaze and igniting the mine's fence. In the raging firelight, a burly, demonic figure was revealed. His worn-out armor bore the medals of countless warriors, and the massive halberd in his hand sliced ​​easily into the thick armor as if piercing a soft cake.

The masked man walked slowly forward, like a goat-headed demon appearing in a nightmare, his horns, like branches of an old tree, trembling slightly in the cold wind.

"Crack!" The blood-soaked halberd pierced the frozen wasteland soil, which was no softer than steel. The freed right hand was raised high, and the shield-wielding warriors who were still killing immediately stopped fighting and retreated behind him, as if they were a precise machine that had received a command.

At this moment, he was left with fewer than a dozen guards.

They huddled around the inspector like a bunch of trembling chicks huddled behind a hen. The large mine in the wasteland collapsed completely in less than three hours.

No one was a match for that demon. Human weapons seemed to leave only meaningless marks on his armor. Even military artillery could only make him raise his shield and take a half step back. And his taciturn and terrifying subordinates were nothing more than meticulously crafted killing machines.

"Civilians have been evacuated, and the infected are safe..."

"Hmm!" The man nodded slightly, looking at the guards opposite him. "Leave here, never come back, or die here..."

The guards exchanged hesitant glances. Finally, a young man with a still somewhat immature appearance couldn't resist taking a step forward, while his companions behind him showed expressions of reluctance. "Bang!"

"Don't waver! All of you, stand still! Anyone who dares to leave their post is a traitor!" Without hesitation, the patrol officer shot the wavering guard from behind.

"Hmph!" The man appeared before the inspector like a black storm sweeping across the frozen wasteland, amidst the swirling snowflakes. He grabbed the inspector's face and lifted the burly Ursus man up.

"Let...go..." The inspector kicked and punched the man in front of him frantically, but it was all in vain. With a crisp cracking sound, the body stopped moving completely. The man threw the corpse aside. "My promise still stands. Leave here and don't come back. You'd rather die here."

He was not a man of indiscriminate killing. These young people, deceived by the empire's vile lies and prejudices, should not die on this wasteland for the emperor and those despicable old nobles in such a meaningless way.

Especially after he accidentally killed his own son, he felt a deep disgust and some regret for the imperial officers and officials who deceived the soldiers and exploited their enthusiasm for dirty work for benefits that didn't belong to them. If he had acted the way he does now, perhaps...

The first man laid down his weapon, then the second, and soon the remaining guards all laid down their weapons. "Leave them a week's worth of rations and the necessary fuel," the man nodded, instructing his men to leave the necessary rations for these men.

Although it wasn't enough for them to completely leave the wilderness, it was enough to reach the more food-rich snow forest region to the south.

"Bo... Patriot, we're running low on food, and those infected are willing to follow us..."

“No, we’ll escort them to the nearest infected camp…” Patriot shook his head. These infected lacked food and medical care, and most of them were physically weak.

While they awakened powerful skills as a result, it was essentially a huge burden for them. Perhaps other infected guerrillas wouldn't mind sacrificing some of the old and weak in battle, but at least their "shield" couldn't contain such things.

Furthermore, these untrained civilians might not be able to keep up with his pace and rhythm. Therefore, they were placed in camps and villages entirely populated by infected individuals.

"The surrounding camps are all full, and they won't accept any more new people." Food is very hard to find in the wasteland, and farming in the frozen ground is also extremely difficult.

Even if they reluctantly accepted some newcomers out of gratitude, it doesn't mean that this can be increased indefinitely.

“Then let’s go further away, there are some villages to the south…” Patriot was silent for a moment. His subordinate was right. Those infected camps were already overburdened, having to take in the rescued people and provide the guerrillas with food and necessary supplies.

No matter how much face you have, or how lofty you are in the eyes of those infected, you can't conjure potatoes and bread out of thin air.

"We're heading south too. There aren't many mines left in the north..." Some were attacked, and some were closed by the Empire. They no longer have the energy to waste several army groups here fighting the guerrillas. Ursus is at best a Tsarist Russia Plus, while the wasteland and snow forest area is a combination of Finland and Afghanistan, a place where even the Soviet Union and the United States would fail, let alone them.

As the guerrillas grew stronger with each suppression, while the mines dwindled due to attacks by the Patriots' shield troops, the Empire finally couldn't hold out any longer. They closed a large number of small and medium-sized mines and concentrated their manpower on the large, impenetrable mines.

Even if the Patriots' forces wanted to storm these mines, they would have to suffer casualties. In addition, the discipline of the Imperial army... In short, the north has been ravaged.

The infected were acting as guerrillas, and civilians who could not survive due to repeated levies of food and conscription by the Empire were also acting as guerrillas. The two were so well mixed up that the Imperial officers could not distinguish between them at all.

Of course, they might also be deliberately too lazy to distinguish between them—treating them all as infected and slaughtering them—

Therefore, there is no longer any need for the Patriots to stay in the north; moving south into the snow-covered forests and plains is the only option.

"We're running out of food, and we're taking so many people with us..." Even a guerrilla force like the Shield Guard, which can launch strong attacks, can't have a stable supply line. It would be very difficult for them to sustain so many people migrating south with the food and supplies they carry.

"We'll find campsites along the way to buy some food. The weather is going to get warmer soon, so we should be able to survive for a while by hunting. Things will be better once we get to the valley area."

That area is considered relatively easy to cultivate in the snowy plains. If you plant some potatoes during the warmer season and rely on gathering berries and fishing, you should be able to survive.

"Void! Void!" Accompanied by the strange noise from the pipes, the water rushed in. The water tank that Xia Lin had temporarily welded sounded as water was poured in. Finally, all the pipes were connected, and now there was no need to worry about irrigation water.

The potatoes in the greenhouse are growing very well, but I wonder what they will look like when they are harvested.

After all, potatoes are a strange crop. When grown from seeds, their traits are almost unaffected by the traits of the parent plants. As a result, when humans grow potatoes, they will choose the budding method to "replicate" potatoes whenever conditions permit.

After resting for a few days, Yelena was finally able to get out of bed and move around. The ample nutrition she had received over the past few days had given her a slightly fuller figure, and she was no longer the skeleton wrapped in human skin. However, she was still not old enough to be thrown into the fields to work.

To keep her from getting bored and to lighten her own burden, Xia Lin found her a simple job that didn't require much physical strength: looking after the chicks in the incubator. These fluffy yellow little guys would be an important source of protein for the two of them later on.

Cleaning up chicken droppings in the greenhouse and feeding the chicks are Yelena's current jobs. She seems to be adapting quite well and no longer looks as panicked as before.

The girl carefully cleaned out the chicken droppings from under the incubator and threw them into the garbage bin, then checked to see if any of the little guys looked listless.

If present, it needs to be retrieved by reaching inside and placed in a separate isolation observation box to prevent the spread of disease.

When Yelena first caught the chicks, she was completely at a loss, looking at Xia Lin without knowing what to do. She had been in that mine since birth, and all she knew was a small patch of sky above her head. What she was most familiar with were the rude infected miners and the dangerous Originium bugs that were everywhere.

Chicken was something completely foreign to her, something that only existed in her grandmother's stories.

It is said that in the cities of the empire, on the first day of each winter, everyone would gather together, light candles, and celebrate the New Year with golden roast chicken, thick layers of cured lard, and fragrant bread.

However, all she had was cold, black goo and foul-smelling meatballs. Every winter meant a test of death, and the entire mine, even the guards, would be filled with unease—she had no idea what chicken meat was.

Even candy, something that only appears in stories, was something I tasted for the first time here. My brain couldn't even identify what this wonderful flavor, melting on my tongue, was. I had always thought that the candy my mother made with ginger and rhizome powder tasted sweet. [Spicy ginger candy...a perfect winter treat]

However, just like tasting candy for the first time, holding that furry little thing for the first time, watching the little guy make soft cries in her palm, the warm touch traveled from her palm all the way to her heart, almost making her burst into tears, for this fragile life, and for herself.

The chicks grow very quickly; these improved broiler chickens can be ready for market in about 42 days.

If we disregard the quality of the meat and the profit, theoretically they can be eaten in about thirty days. Of course, they are also incredibly voracious eaters.

"Whoosh—" A gust of cold wind swept by, and then the garage door slammed shut. Xia Lin, carrying tools, walked into the workshop. "Are you alright?"

Yelena, who had just reached the garage, paused for a moment, then nodded to indicate that she was alright, but a series of uncontrollable sneezes showed that she was still weak.

"Wear more clothes, and don't wander around the garage unnecessarily; it's quite cold here." Xia Lin placed the tools in her hand in a corner of the garage.

Honestly, digging in frozen soil is a nightmare, especially when digging a large enough reservoir that can be used to raise fish and store water, and later used as a place to cultivate rice.

Rice generally yields more than crops like wheat, but it is also very labor-intensive. Xia Lin reserved it for last, as it is a typical crop that requires intensive cultivation. Just controlling water, fertilizer, temperature, and sunlight is several orders of magnitude more complicated. Of course, modern agricultural technology allows you to grow rice even if you just randomly throw seedlings into the ground.

"Let's get ready to eat." It was called eating, but there wasn't much to eat. It was just a nutritional paste and protein block made by crushing and soaking plants collected by Xia Lin, then separating the necessary plant proteins, sugars, cellulose, and various vitamin supplements through a molecular permeation membrane.