Chapter 247

Who are you? You think you can just play around? What right do you have to challenge Du Binqi's student? Do you think money makes you superior!?

Nearby spectators and both combatants all had countless questions flash through their minds, but seeing the Dead Star pass hanging from Ang's chest, all their doubts were automatically swallowed back.

Questioning the old witch's guest? That's not wise, is it? What if the old witch takes a dislike to us and makes us clean the latrines every day?

Ang didn't care what others thought—he just wanted to play. He pressed the magic crystal into the slot, studied it briefly, and knew how to activate it: he input a bit of magic energy and triggered the simulation array.

Whoosh—the neatly planted farmland vanished, replaced by a wild, primitive wasteland. In the center of the square pit, a row of numbers flickered: year, month, day, season, temperature, humidity, rainfall, and more.

Need to clear the land first? Ang mimicked what he'd seen others do, tapping the control panel a few times, and some images materialized.

Wasteland—should he burn it? Ang checked the soil description and decided to burn it, then selected one of the projected images.

On Ang's side of the pit, a torch instantly appeared. He could manipulate the torch, igniting fire at different points to conduct controlled burning.

Burning land requires skill—not just lighting any spot and hoping it spreads. You must choose ignition points based on vegetation density and moisture, progressing from point to line to area.

If you pick the wrong ignition points, the first areas burned may become firebreaks, blocking the spread behind and leaving the land patchy like a scalp covered in sores.

At that point, you'd have to carry the torch and burn the remaining patches clean—but you'd soon realize each ignition has a time limit; you can't press it continuously, must wait ten seconds or more between uses.

But inside the illusion array, ten seconds equals nearly half a day. By the time you burn everything clean, days would have passed.

But Ang didn't make this beginner's mistake—he'd burned wastelands for over a thousand years. He could burn a heart or a star shape if he wanted. He quickly cleared the land entirely, leaving only ash.

A master's first move reveals everything. The two combatants stared at each other. Du Binqi's student was stunned—sure, if the opponent were a novice, fine. But this clearly wasn't. If they didn't play, would they be mocked?

Play? Why not? They didn't pay—magic crystals were already deposited.

The opponent quickly began burning their land too.

But burning land demands experience. No matter how much theoretical knowledge you have, without practice, you'll fail. These students rarely trained in such basics. Soon their land was patchy like a scalp covered in sores. Cleaning the unburned patches wasted several more days.

Ang was already tilling the soil.

Tilling involved many tasks: removing rocks, sun-drying, applying base fertilizer—each required the right approach.

Ang saw the rocks and instinctively wanted to call Little Angel over, but then remembered this was a simulation array—he could only use methods available within the array's scope.

There was no Earth Holy Hammer in the array. No one ever used an Earth Holy Hammer as a rock-removal tool—except him and the first Duke of Heishan.

Crushing wasn't possible. Plowing was fastest. Ang selected plowing.

The soil condition was decent—no need to sun-dry. Just apply base fertilizer.

Ang checked available crops and found many, including Primitive Magic Rice, Breadfruit Trees, and the vine breadfruit the opponent had just planted.

Ang didn't hesitate—he chose vine breadfruit. He'd grown the other two before; this one was new. He'd try this first.

Once he chose the crop, Ang naturally opened its data and studied its habits.

As the vine breadfruit's image materialized, a wave of murmurs erupted.

The leader of Du Binqi's students shouted angrily: "Friend, are you deliberately provoking? This vine breadfruit is our teacher's latest cultivar—combining the best traits of all crops while eliminating their flaws. It may become the next dominant staple. You've never even seen it before and you want to grow it? Do you think so little of us?"

From an outsider's view, Ang's move was clearly provocative. Just last round, Spring Wind's students lost to this very crop. Now Ang chose it directly—was he trying to defeat Du Binqi's students using the same crop?

By choosing this crop, Du Binqi's side could only win—and win by a large margin. Even a tie or a narrow win counted as defeat.

You bred the crop—you know its habits best. If your yield is lower than someone's first attempt, isn't that defeat? Isn't that provocation?

But Ang didn't think that far—he simply wanted to try a new crop. He tilted his head, puzzled: "Can't I? Okay then."

He canceled the breadfruit and selected the one he knew best: Magic Rice.

This move enraged the opponent further. Had he never picked breadfruit, fine. But now he'd picked it, then switched under their "pressure"—even if they won, it would be a hollow victory.

The projection of Negril burst into laughter. Just a single "choose" and "cancel" could make them furious—twice! It reminded Negril of when he first met this skeleton.

Worse, Ang did it entirely unintentionally. That was just his nature—annoying by default.

Ang selected Magic Rice—the crop he knew best. Why best?

Because at Lake Fall Dragon, he'd repeatedly experimented, using Magic Rice as the mother plant and hybridizing it with saltwater cereal crops over ten thousand times.

Remember—he'd farmed for over a thousand years. Even growing the same crop, he'd done it only a thousand times. But hybridization? Ten thousand times. No crop's habits were as deeply understood as Magic Rice's.

Primitive Magic Rice already had high yields. Spring Wind the Archdruid could grow over a thousand catties per mu. But Ang had no interest in fame, so he never returned to compete in the Grain Contest—otherwise, what chance would Du Binqi have had?

Under Ang's repeated experiments and meticulous care, Primitive Magic Rice's peak yield broke 1, 00 catties per mu. Even if the opponent matched last round's breadfruit yield, Ang would still win.

Had they kept quiet and let Ang grow breadfruit, he might not have lost—he didn't understand its habits well.

Now, their meddling forced him back to Magic Rice. Would they regret it to their bones if they knew?

Since it was the crop he knew best, Ang quickly fell into rhythm: sprout when needed, water when needed, fertilize when needed. When it reached grain-filling stage, Ang performed an operation no one understood—he set up nets over the rice field at noon, shading the plants.

"Why is he doing that? Grain-filling needs maximum sunlight—why shade it?"

"It's not full shade—the mesh lets some through. What's the point? Cooling? Reducing light?"

"Too bad Magic Rice never got widely promoted after its success. Could it be that grain-filling is sensitive to high temperatures?"

"He's just messing around, right? Magic Rice was bred by our teacher—who knows its habits better than us?"

"Don't talk nonsense. Look at his technique—he's not fumbling. Spring Wind Spell, Rain Transformation, Insect Tending—some are even our teacher's exclusive methods. How could he be messing around?"

"Forget it. What exclusive methods? Our teacher wants every farmer in the world to learn them—he's printed booklets and handed them out for free everywhere. Who among the druids doesn't know Spring Wind Spell? We have zero advantage in contests."

"Don't question our teacher!" the lead Spring Wind student snapped. The others glared at the complainer—clearly, he'd angered them.

Spring Wind's students had time to gossip. Du Binqi's students were suffering—they realized their progress lagged far behind Ang's. And their process wasn't "aesthetic." Yes, aesthetic.

A beautiful process flows smoothly, uniformly. But from the start, their burning left uneven pits. Not a major issue—but compared to Ang's, it was instantly inferior.

Their land preparation was poorly planned. Their seed density was lower than his.

This was critical. Farmland isn't flat and grid-like—it has rivers, slopes, gullies. Planning maximum planting area on irregular terrain demands experience.

Others plant sixty jin of seed per mu; you plant only fifty-five. Your yield is already 1/12 lower from the start.

As Ang's crops grew stronger, Du Binqi's students grew more pressured, stumbling through their tasks.

When Ang began shading, they panicked—they couldn't understand his actions anymore. Was Ang's skill higher than theirs?

Simulation ended. In the illusion array, Du Binqi's side showed 1, 20 catties per mu—nearly 100 catties less than last round. Clearly, Ang's presence affected their yield.

Ang's side showed 1, 20 catties per mu. The number stunned everyone in the Magic Farming Academy.

"Impossible? How could Magic Rice yield so high?" Both Du Binqi's and Spring Wind's students felt disbelief—even Spring Wind's students more so. They knew Magic Rice well.

Magic Rice was bred by Spring Wind the Archdruid. They'd grown it for years, convinced they understood its habits. Their usual yield was around 700–800 catties. They thought that was its limit.

But Ang just grew 1, 00 catties per mu—500 more than their peak. Nearly doubled.

And this was in the simulation array, where Magic Rice's data was most precise. If it worked here, it had high probability of working in the real world.

Who is this person? Even before Spring Wind the Archdruid vanished, he never reached 1, 00 catties per mu. How could this man achieve such yield?

Of course, no one dared call Ang's actions "messing around" now. If messing around produced this yield, what use were druids?

Everyone surged forward, clamoring questions at Ang.

Negril saw the danger and hurriedly told Ang to flee. Though reluctant, the crowd didn't forcibly stop him—thanks to his Dead Star pass—and watched helplessly as he left.

The next day, Au Benli came to his door and asked straight out: "Magic Rice at 1, 00 catties per mu—how did you do it?"

Negril knew Au Benli would come. The situation would inevitably be reported, and with the Dead Star pass, they'd trace it to her.

So Negril was ready. He pulled out a skeleton, a farming manual, a druidic secret text, a robe, some trinkets, and dragged forward a child.

"This is what happened: We found this skeleton in Fall Dragon Canyon. From these relics, we deduced it belonged to Spring Wind the Archdruid. This child, Yi Yi, was his adopted son. After Spring Wind died, Yi Yi lived alone in the canyon, feeding on Soul Moss, absorbing much dragon power—he's now a Dragon Wraith."

Au Benli glanced skeptically at Negril, then examined the skeleton closely. She soon sensed the lingering consciousness clinging to it.

"It really is Spring Wind… he's dead?" Au Benli's spirit trembled. She couldn't believe it.

"Yes. From his farming manual, he came to Lake Fall Dragon seeking saltwater plants to breed saltwater Magic Rice. Here—this is our saltwater Magic Rice, 700 catties per mu." Negril pulled out a bag of saltwater Magic Rice seeds.

Au Benli stared blankly at the saltwater seeds, utterly lost. She hadn't yet processed Spring Wind's death—and now she heard his lifelong wish had been fulfilled?

"You bred it?" Au Benli asked skeptically. Spring Wind's saltwater Magic Rice project wasn't secret—he'd told her himself. But he'd said the difficulty was immense, requiring decades, even centuries of trials.

"Of course," Negril crossed his arms, smug. "I watched Ang breed it."

Au Benli fell silent for a moment, then said: "I must return and inform everyone."

"Go ahead. But these saltwater Magic Rice seeds incorporate elf techniques—they require the Blessing of the Life God to germinate. We can help you find the Life God for free to bless them. But you must sell us several illusion simulation arrays."

"We'll discuss it later." Au Benli tossed out the words and rushed out the door.

But she'd barely stepped outside when a violent energy surge erupted inside the room. She spun back in alarm.

Ang's body radiated intense energy. A gaping hole tore open before him, pouring forth powerful energy. As Au Benli returned, she caught only a flash of light plunging into the hole.

Au Benli gasped, crying out: "Manifestation?"

Such intensity of energy transmission qualified as manifestation—the god granting power to their saint.

Could this unremarkable human beside the God of Knowledge be so powerful?

Ang had no time to care about Au Benli's shock. His entire attention stretched along the soul-point belonging to Anthony, his soul-essence already rushing ahead.

Because he heard Anthony's desperate, unprecedented cry: "My lord, save me!"