Famine 233: The Company

　　After the server in the canteen was violently battered by a gang of furious warriors, nutrient paste finally vanished from the cafeteria for good.

　　The canteen employee shrugged helplessly. “I really can’t give it away, look—even after a full day of military training, not even the freshest trainees want to eat this stuff!”

　　Yun Zhong said, “All right, we won’t make it hard on you. Go on now.”

　　Before Si Zhiyan could ask, Yun Zhong turned back, looking aggrieved as he reported, “Our nutrient paste has totally stalled, it’s a serious glut!”

　　Si Zhiyan was at a loss whether to laugh or cry.

　　Indeed, even in the farm, sometimes there was surplus nutrient paste.

　　The farm was bountiful, but there had never been waste before. After all, every player who survived this long had endured seven years of hunger, every one of them understood the value of food. Far from waste—it was common for players, even inside the farm, to hoard food, letting it rot or spoil, yet still unable to bear throwing it away.

　　Except for one thing.

　　Nutrient paste.

　　Players seemed to suffer PTSD from the stuff. At the sight of that sticky, tasteless, transparent goo, they were haunted by memories of those seven dark years, and wanted nothing to do with it. Even on the job for the farm, fighting the uncanny, they might complete some Main God mission and end up with a reward of nutrient paste and roasted potatoes.

　　Roasted potatoes were at least tolerable; they could be cooked into flavorful spicy potato, chips, accordion potatoes…

　　But nutrient paste, no matter how fancied up, still tasted vile to a soul-crushing degree.

　　To throw it away would be wasteful, yet no one wanted it.

　　When players were caught in this bind, Yun Zhong offered Si Zhiyan a suggestion: why not collect the nutrient paste and use it for pig feed?

　　That’s right—as animal feed.

　　People found it revolting, but for pigs, it was perfectly nutritious—complete, with no need to worry about feed ratios, and one serving was good for a whole day. The meat yield was high, too.

　　Si Zhiyan thought it a good idea and gave the go-ahead.

　　For a long period, nutrient paste feed benefited the farm’s livestock immensely. Later…

　　[Digestible Feed] was born.

　　Not only could this make livestock grow fat and strong, yield more meat, but it also conferred a host of Buffs, making the players who ate it as if given wings, full of renewed energy. The flesh, now rid of the uncanny, became wonderfully fragrant—excellent pork the pigs loved to eat.

　　Nutrient paste? What nutrient paste?

　　Production had advanced so quickly, Si Zhiyan could only shake his head.

　　“Forget it, we’ve done our best. It’s not like it’s something costly.” Si Zhiyan sighed. “If they won’t eat it, there’s no way we can pry their mouths open and force it down.”

　　“How about this—aren’t several settlements currently considering whether to migrate here? Go put up a notice: anyone who registers at the farm now receives half a jin of nutrient paste.”

　　“Some players, those who operate outside for long periods without a supply line, still need it.”

　　“Anyway, it keeps for a long time. Hand it out slowly—eventually it’ll all be gone.”

　　Half a jin… The very phrase made Yun Zhong’s lip twitch.

　　He remembered when even a single tube of nutrient paste was worth a fortune—Commander Nie Du risked death nine times over entering the high tower with Xu Bei’s team, all to win a single crate of it for the Skeletal Ferry.

　　Players once traded the stuff by the gram.

　　Now, just over a year into the farm, it was measured by the jin!

　　Handed out for free!

　　Was there any justice! Yun Zhong mused as he walked away, half in disbelief.

　　………
　　……

　　[Main God Showdown Countdown: 530 days]
　　[Number of Worlds Currently Collected: 86]
　　[Average Collection Speed: 0.3 per day]

　　And so, the farm’s military training advanced at a remarkable pace.

　　Players still stumbled along—a hodgepodge of all kinds—but to everyone’s surprise, what slowly emerged was a unique kind of camaraderie.

　　The command staff of this force was an especially odd combination.

　　A puppet-like one-eyed priestess, a gruff officer with a flintlock, a live-for-today mercenary boss with little discipline…

　　Bian Xu was constantly busy these days. As the farm’s representative, together with Aiko, Sha Tong, Lin Qiushui, Gao Zhai, and others, he continuously adapted the farm’s tactics through hands-on experience.

　　Except for Lin Qiushui, none of these figures were easy collaborators—the likes of Aiko and Sha Tong were used to being in charge, acknowledging only Si Zhiyan or their own leader. On issues in their domain, neither would back down an inch.

　　Here, the value of someone like Bian Xu became very clear.

　　Bian Xu always faced people with a smile—sweet-tongued, nimble, and clever. He got along with everyone. Aiko thought him a courteous young man, Sha Tong thought him a profoundly mysterious figure with not a trace of arrogance.

　　As [Assistant], he represented both the farm master’s private authority and presence. Where Bian Xu was, so was Si Zhiyan; all were willing to show him respect.

　　And Bian Xu’s job was to persuade everyone to seek common ground, to find a solution that all could accept.

　　Thus, sharp conflicts gradually softened, the powder of discord dissolved into the air, and the players’ ranks intermingled.

　　Aiko and her attendant warriors had unmatched experience; Sha Tong and his Skeletal Ferry guards brought hard-learned lessons on how a team should operate; between times, Si Zhiyan would visit the world of dreams, consult the Knights of the First Hall, and gather their wisdom to pass on to Bian Xu…

　　The roads of different civilizations converged here, each with its own bloodline—“ten inches forward, and still face death and disappearance”—all finally awakening to a shared realization: in resisting the Main God, they had become one.

　　From patchwork pieces, a road leading toward the distance was slowly mapped out.

　　Mixed together with the new generation of players, these accumulated experiences had, bit by bit, shaped the current “blade” of the farm.

　　And when that blade was put to the test, at the end of its first two-month training cycle, when sent out for real combat, it gave everyone a collective shock—

　　“One day?!”

　　On the balcony, Si Zhiyan turned sharply.

　　“Yes!” Bian Xu nodded emphatically.

　　He had just led the team back to the farm to report, still in his gear, blood staining his cheeks, eyes bright.

　　“From the moment we entered that A-rank monster story, to finally conquering it, we spent less than a day.”

　　“For the lower-level dungeons, it took even less time!”

　　“In this five-day field training, we brought back five Famine Seeds.”

　　Unlike Zhong Yanqing’s approach, the battle formation’s players earned recognition with utmost simplicity and directness.

　　—By solving problems.

　　A desert, where the living dead were fighting to the death over a well? They’d tunnel a water channel from the river through the desert, hand out a batch of hydration floats, and settle the issue at its root.

　　A region terrorized by a gang of murderous female ghosts every night? Lie in ambush, capture the lot, bind them up, and then sit down to hear the story of sisterhood’s grievances—solve the problem.

　　A place where a second moon appears at night, where looking up brings psychic contamination, most residents already infected and twisted, unable even to communicate?…

　　Too many problems? Then they’d knock the anomaly flat first, deal with the aftermath later.

　　The moon? Contamination? How many divisions does the moon command?

　　I’ve pulled down the Main God’s Eye—am I supposed to fear a fake planet!?

　　At the front of the squad, Bian Xu raised his arm and shouted, “A team led by the Farm Master has never met a problem it can’t solve!”

　　“Oh!!!”

　　A host of dried corpses, floating on hydration bladders, bound and beaming female ghosts, a moon in ruins—the whole team answered with radiant laughter.

　　“…”

　　Si Zhiyan was stunned for a long moment after hearing it all.

　　Hold on, what do you mean, ‘a team led by me’—really?

　　Back in the days of the high-rise apartment raid, he’d spent a miserable (questionable) time as a would-be landlord!

　　And under this overwhelming, unstoppable offensive, another issue had surfaced.

　　Bian Xu reported gravely:

　　“Sir, we meant to clear a few more worlds before returning, but…”

　　“Around us—for now—there really aren’t any dungeons left…”