Famine 117: Crispy Bacon and Soft-Boiled Egg Toast

…It was simply overwhelming. Even for someone as composed as Si Zhiyan, his breath caught for an instant.

The ground beneath his feet was not stone, but a vast field of gems—each and every inch imbued with surging magic, each piece impossibly precious.

No wonder the lower layers of the lava region were filled with subterranean caverns…
In the old days, there must have been a countless abundance of gem mines!

Now, the fact that his farm could produce such a vast swathe of the Gemmoria at its prime was like having a block of gold stashed beneath his pillow!

Si Zhiyan’s latent greed was instantly awakened.

He called in Kazuko through the main channel and exchanged a few quick words, learning that the [Gemmoria] had always been the richest source of minerals in the entire Tianman Paradise. Even the gods of Tianman dared not seize it as private land—yet now, almost all of it belonged to Si Zhiyan alone.

How many points could this be worth? Si Zhiyan could barely imagine.

Perhaps this was the key to true financial freedom—even those city-defense tools in the store, costing millions or tens of millions of points, would no longer be an unreachable dream.

Moreover, with such a supply, every player served by the farm would see a dramatic improvement. If the scale of such advancements reached a certain threshold, perhaps it would cause a qualitative leap.

Si Zhiyan even had a premonition: if the farm truly mastered the ore veins of the Gemmoria, in time, the players within and beyond the farm would see an overall, insurmountable power gap forming from top to bottom.

If every person had at least twenty or thirty percent attribute bonuses, with all sorts of never-ending buffs and equipment effects, how could others hope to battle them?

Si Zhiyan nodded solemnly, accepting the request with gravity: “No problem. I will do everything I can.”

However, getting one’s hands on these gems would not be that simple.

The brief sense of shared perception soon faded. Si Zhiyan called in the members of the vanguard and discussed their options, then delegated information-gathering assignments.

There was no need to rush; they would proceed step by step.

Speaking of which, aside from the gems and hamsters, there had been another special announcement in the previous round of reward broadcasts.

[“A-grade creature – Volcanic Chiyang Bug x 200 has been released into the lava ecosystem. Please pay attention to the farm’s ecological security.”]

What sort of creature was that? Si Zhiyan wandered through the lava fields, scanning the terrain.

From a distant crack in the rocks, a creature about the size of a cantaloupe emerged. Oval-shaped with spiky protrusions on its back, its body was coated in fractured stone, glowing faintly red with magma beneath.
The plump body hopped a couple of times, issuing a sharp “jee!” sound.

It somewhat resembled a larva, yet also had an air of a slime.

So this was the [Volcanic Chiyang Bug]? It must be—after all, aside from the Spirits of the Vein, only one other creature existed in the sea of lava…

Was there really anything to worry about?

Si Zhiyan quirked an eyebrow, crouched down, and reached out a hand to the volcanic bug.

“Jee!”

Instantly, the bug became warmly excited, bounding upward and launching itself at him.

Then—

Boom! A wave of heat exploded outward.

With a searing hiss, Si Zhiyan’s avatar almost evaporated on the spot, instantaneously dissolving into mist and leaping back to avoid the sudden, explosive heat.

Si Zhiyan sucked in a sharp breath, took a long pause, and tried several more experiments before finally understanding—

—These things were ovens!

Centered on each [Volcanic Chiyang Bug], a radius of two meters maintained a constant high temperature, varying by individual from 150°C to 300°C.
These high-heat zones were extremely stable, with almost no fluctuation and no need for preheating—a unique trait of the bugs themselves.

They really were perfect as air fryers or ovens.

But if that were all, he could bear it…

Expressionless, Si Zhiyan sprinted at full speed.

Behind him, a horde of volcanic bugs bounced and chirped gleefully—”jee!”, “jeeaow!”, “piu!”—leaping with joy, churning up endless clouds of dust as they chased after him.

The problem was, these mini-ovens had no concept of how dangerous they were! Incredibly strong, super enthusiastic, they wanted to approach and greet every creature they saw with nothing but goodwill!
No wonder there was a special warning about the farm’s ecosystem! Good thing Si Zhiyan had walled off the lava region in advance, or nothing would survive where the fiery bugs passed!

“JEE!!”

Stop shouting; are we that close? Si Zhiyan found a spare moment to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Enough, if I run any faster, I really will be well-done…

This feeling—like being an introverted Iron-blooded I, dragged to a karaoke party by a friend, only for that friend to go to the bathroom and leave you surrounded by strangers, huddling in the corner trying to minimize your presence, but still getting noticed by an enthusiastic extrovert who calls attention to you and suddenly you’re in the center of a crowd, being praised and pushed to sing onstage by a mob of Es…

He wasn’t really angry, but—

…

After quite some commotion, Si Zhiyan finally escaped the bugs and began work on building ovens.

Using his imaginary brush, he set up several rooms, categorizing them by individual temperature ranges.
It seemed the bugs had a homing and nesting instinct; as long as they were fed regularly with universal insect feed purchased from the system store, they’d naturally gather there.

Si Zhi tuned the temperature distributions, and after discussing at length with Li Xuan, they settled on five rooms: a 150°C oven, a 180°C oven, a 250°C oven, and a 300°C oven, all with precise top-down heating.

At last—

In this stretch of time, the scale of the farm had expanded dramatically. Li Xuan’s kitchen had grown into a vast team of hundreds, feeding the dining hall.

At that moment, the chefs broke into cheers: who would not love an ever-ready, temperature-stable mega-oven?

Everyone rolled up their sleeves, thinking of all the treats they could bake. The swiftest among them immediately began kneading pizza dough, while friends from the western borderlands clamored for baked buns.

But, as always, ingredients were limited—boar meat, venison from the forest, or, at best, thinly sliced marbled beef and lamb for hot pot. After starving for over seven years, the players naturally found it exquisite—each mouthful was gratefully savored.

But Si Zhiyan was starting to tire of it.

He stroked his chin.

Could he find some new ingredients?

He recalled that after the Silver Ring Alliance fell, Qiu Hong, wishing to repay a debt, had gifted him a B-grade “cursed item” from the tales—a rifle that looked remarkably like an actual gun.

Because it seemed completely unrelated to food, Si Zhiyan had left it at the bottom of a box, intending to sell it someday.
Now, on further thought, why not offer it to the farm and see what might grow?

The vines swallowed the rifle eagerly, wriggling with delight.

[Consumption detected…]

[You have just fed the farm a Cursed Item: B-Rank — Blackstar Rifle x1]
[Seedbed growing…]

[Congratulations! In Seedbed 13, a tale seed has sprouted: “Gunfire Egg Rain”!]

Clack, clack, clack! The ground sprouted a thicket of gun barrels.
Looking up in the nursery, an egg-storm began to fall from the sky, egg after egg pelting down in a steady rain.

[Ding! Congratulations—your Seedbed 13 can now produce an unlimited supply of unfertilized eggs. Chicken eggs, duck eggs, quail eggs, pterosaur eggs, blood-wraith eggs, slender-shadow eggs, and more—adjust the proportions at will in the system.]

Si Zhiyan: “…………”
Si Zhiyan: “That’s… fine. That’s fine.”

Though unfertilized, and incapable of hatching, at least they were edible…
At last, he could eat all the eggs he wished.

As the egg yolks splashed everywhere, Si Zhiyan hurriedly set up nets to catch the “egg rain.”

Then he went into the system and de-selected all the strange, dangerous eggs—pterosaur eggs might be fine, but who knew what would happen if someone ate a blood-wraith egg? Si Zhiyan didn’t care to find out.

Once everything was ready, he summoned Li Xuan and his staff of chefs.

They looked as though they’d ascended to paradise, their cheers almost shaking the farm apart, racing to the nursery to snatch up eggs—

“Ahhh who else understands my pain—I used to knead dough with no eggs at all!”

“Heh, shrimp and scrambled egg, tofu wrapped egg…”

“There’s even quail eggs! It’s like you knew I love salt-boiled quail eggs best.”

Not long after, all manner of egg dishes graced the farm’s canteen.

Of course, a plate of them arrived at Si Zhiyan’s own table as well.

The next morning, upon descending the stairs, he opened the door to the common room and was greeted by a tantalizing fragrance.

On the table, Li Xuan had set out breakfast especially for him.

At the center of the plate was a slice of buttered toast, baked to a perfect golden crisp, topped with a scattering of garlic salt and celery shavings. On top of that, a layer of fried bacon—greasy, shining, crisp at the edges—rested under a bed of lettuce. The crowning touch was a soft-boiled egg, its edges caramelized, the yolk trembling with orange-gold brilliance, jiggling delicately, cooked to absolute perfection.

The moment Si Zhiyan hefted it, he knew immediately: this must have been supervised by Li Cui’e.

Li Cui’e was daring, attentive, always knew how to handle things well—she knew the time he woke, and how to show thoughtfulness without being intrusive.

Si Zhiyan appreciated that kind of consideration.

After all, the toast was freshly baked, delivered still piping hot and fragrant.

He bit down; the soft egg yolk dribbled between his fingers, and the half-cooked yolk, with the rich, crisp bacon and buttered toast blended in his mouth—growing more delectable with every chew.

Delicious. Li Xuan’s skill truly was top-notch.

In addition, that afternoon’s tea included cocoa oat tarts with egg, and supper featured a fragrant, soft egg custard and roasted chicken…

It seemed that with ovens and limitless eggs, the chefs were overjoyed and eager to invent every oven and egg-related dish imaginable.

Everyone ate their fill.

Si Zhiyan’s most vivid impression, however, was of a goose egg rice dish from a young chef.

He would cook the goose egg until it was eighty percent done—enough so the yolk was not runny, but still half-soft. Then he chopped it into small pieces, poured soy sauce and vinegar over it, dusted it with minced garlic, and finally drizzled on a circle of sesame oil. Fresh and steaming, he ladled it atop white rice, stirred vigorously—the egg white forming soft cubes, the yolk breaking apart and coating each grain. The fragrance of soy permeated everything, topped with a scattering of scallions and cilantro…

It was Si Zhiyan’s first time eating goose egg that way, but the aroma was irresistible—he ate two large bowls at once.

Thus the days passed, one after another, as he awaited the results of the vanguard’s investigation.

…

A few days later, Anderson knocked at Si Zhiyan’s door.

Unexpectedly, Anderson hesitated and finally offered a slow response:

“I’m sorry, sir, but… this might truly be beyond us.”

Toward the south of the vast lava plain—what lay there?
—If you asked any player, their answer would be: “Nothing at all.”

True to its name, that was a bottomless abyss.

The southern edge of the plain ended abruptly in a cliff, jagged rocks jutting out over infinite darkness.
Southwards, nothing—like the end of the world.

When Anderson inquired about the end of the world, Qiu Hong drew a quiet breath.

“You mean the cliff? Well, you’re asking the right person.”

“The lava fields are brutally harsh. It’s not as if no one ever tried to rappel down the cliff, hoping to find new lands… Our Four Seasons Society once made such an attempt.”

“But once you leave the cliff face, within a few dozen meters the player disappears into the darkness.”

“No matter how you call, or how you haul on the line, there’s never a reply. Not even the rope can be pulled back.”

“…A few hours later, a bloody rope is all that’s left to recover from the edge.”

“No matter how strong the comrade, none ever returned from that void… and not just ours. No player has ever come back alive.”

“One of them was even a half-step Chosen One.”

“When we got his rope back, it was nothing but rotted tatters, with a single blood-soaked slip of paper clinging to it. Just a few twisted characters, almost illegible.”
“We stared for ages, finally used a decryption tool, and discovered it said five words…”

At this point, Qiu Hong gripped his own arms, his voice trembling faintly.

“‘It is inside me.’”