Famine 251: Eat Well, Live Well

His dim vision slowly cleared.

It took Si Zhiyan two seconds to realize that he still existed.

Then he saw what was before him.

His soul seemed to have briefly left his body—his body was held aloft by the hands of many, while his spirit floated above, looking down with a god’s-eye view upon the crowd below.

He saw undulating waves of people, heard their noisy shouts, saw blood soaking sleeves, staining collars, saw hand after hand reaching up to bear his body.

But not everyone managed with ease.

Bian Xu hadn’t collapsed, but some with weaker bodies couldn’t bear it; they staggered, clutching bleeding arms, howling under the thorns’ bite, and some had already fallen and been quickly carried to safety…

Yet not a single person retreated.

People kept passing him on to the next.

Bodies and flesh, thorns and blood were spread beneath him, like a [throne].

Si Zhiyan looked down and saw himself.

The [Si Zhiyan] of now no longer had black hair and red eyes.

The form inherited from the Overgod had been devoured by Bian Xu, incinerated in blazing fire, melted into pure energy.

The body he now possessed was one forged by the people for him—a [deity] born of the [Thorned Rings of the Faithful].

His white hair spilled out in the air, long and silky, his slender frame wrapped in gentle white light, the energy solidified as a pure white cloak, pallid, soft skin faintly visible at the fingertips. His features resembled his old self, but there was a beauty that was almost inhuman; his lids were gently closed, radiating a pure white glow.

—These people were lifting him up, sharing his suffering; with their own blood, they were reforging his blood and flesh.

What a joke…

What kind of joke is this?!

Si Zhiyan’s spine began to tremble.

He breathed hard, vision blurring. He tried desperately to reach out and tell everyone to stop, to say he was fine, but realized no one could hear him.

He could not control his own body at all.

Worse, his hearing was fading.

He was drifting away from this world.

[After it ends, the Thorned Ring of the Faithful will push the god briefly out of this world and into an interstice.]

This was part of the price of the miracle.

Everything seemed to retreat, until a clear voice echoed in his ear:

“Sir.”

A gentle warmth, like morning sun, wrapped around him.

At the sound of that voice, Si Zhiyan’s heart pounded violently twice, pain shuddering through his chest. He spun with battle-like speed, seeing Bian Xu resting at a distance. Away from the others, Bian Xu sat on the ground, gazing up at him and calling softly.

Though Si Zhiyan’s body was still unconscious and no one else could see his soul, Bian Xu could always find him.

Between them was a tie deeper than flesh or substance.

Si Zhiyan settled before him and asked, “This was your idea?”

Bian Xu, as the first to share the burden, had taken the brunt of the damage. He was in poor shape, sitting alone, half his body bathed in blood. Si Zhiyan knelt in front of him, worried and angry, inspecting his injuries.

Now Si Zhiyan’s hair reached his ankles; not yet used to it, he tucked it behind his ear and demanded in quick succession, “Why did you do this?! Where did you get these things? You made the call? Who let you decide this on your own—what if there were risks, what if people died, what if something happened to you…”

He could barely finish.

Even shaking with anger, he could not bear to speak harshly. The thought that Bian Xu might die somewhere he could not know filled him with a cold terror.

Yet Bian Xu, for all his anger, didn’t seem to be listening. He leaned back on a supply pack, golden hair disheveled, gazing in a daze at Si Zhiyan’s drifting white hair.

After a moment, Bian Xu reached over, gently grasped a strand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it.

Si Zhiyan’s words caught in his throat.

So gentle, so lingering, so bold and unashamed.

“Mhm.” Bian Xu kissed the tips of his hair, lifted his head, smiled, and said, “Sorry. Sir.”

Maybe because they had finally crossed a great divide, Bian Xu’s gaze was raw, fearless, blazing with unspoken desire—all the shame, anger, grief, near-desperate possessiveness once hidden now burning in his golden eyes.

In that gaze—

Those eyes, those golden-haired eyes, told him:

“I beg you—please, stay.”

“You’ve saved us so many times. Now it’s our turn to save you.”

“You’ll be badly hurt. People will die.”

Bian Xu smiled and shook his head: “Opportunities for peace and prosperity have never been gifts from heaven. Throughout history, survival has always come with blood.”

“You don’t have to feel burdened. We want to shed our blood. We want to seize a future with you in it. This is humanity’s chosen fate. This is the selfish fate I chose—for you.”

His tone was gentle, but sure.

“I want to save others, even if it’s a path I can never return from.”
“I want to make you proud—even as a frail human, we want to do something for you.”

“This is humanity.”

Each word fell into the pure white space Si Zhiyan had built himself.

Bian Xu watched him, and seeing Si Zhiyan no longer so angry, smiled again. His god was always so soft-hearted. Bian Xu lowered his head, reached out, and took Si Zhiyan’s hand, pressing it to his cheek.

Si Zhiyan’s hand trembled.

But he did not pull away.

Bian Xu pressed his cheek into his palm, looked up quietly, and said, “Please give your fate to me, sir.”

“Please depend on me.”

You once said, you would always be by my side.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Heartbeats. Bian Xu’s heart, and the heart Si Zhiyan had built for the people, now thundered and aligned as one.

Si Zhiyan felt an unspoken shock.

A scalding heat welled up in his chest—he had no words.

This was Bian Xu, he thought.

He had known for a long time that Bian Xu was making plans in secret—only, Si Zhiyan was always too busy, never tearing away the mask. He trusted Bian Xu would not cross the line, believed in Bian Xu’s sense, and that was why he told him: “I will always stand by your side.”

But still—he had not expected it.

The person so repressed by jealousy, who wanted so badly to be special, the one who got jealous even of Si Zhiyan petting a rabbit…

When the story ended, and every scheme was revealed, Si Zhiyan finally understood that he only wanted him to survive.

A person so bright and good, even if bound in hell, even struggling with sick possessiveness, twisted in body and heart, still wants you to be happy.

“Don’t look at me like that, sir, you’re making me seem like some weird saint,” Bian Xu muttered, pressing his face into Si Zhiyan’s palm.

“…I want to do a lot of bad things. Just—not now.”

Si Zhiyan couldn’t help it; he laughed.

At last, he truly laughed. Heavy, soft, tear-stained, almost painfully, but with unrestrained joy. Shoulders shaking violently, he pulled Bian Xu into a hug, laughter spilling out from his throat.

“…Idiot.”

The sound around them faded away.

“Ah.” Bian Xu looked up, seeming to realize something. “This must be the side-effect of the Thorned Ring. They said that after using dimension-crossing power, the user will be pushed into a spatial crevice for a while… but it won’t hurt you. They said their kind had seen the Overgod survive here before and could live in such a rift.”

“The main effect is uncertain… But it should only last a while. You’ll be back soon.”

“…I think.”

“None of us can be sure. But it was the best method we had.” Bian Xu inhaled sharply and whispered, “Sir, please come back for me, will you?”

“…Don’t let us forget—mmph!”

Si Zhiyan wasn’t about to say such foolish things.

He tugged Bian Xu’s hair and bit his lips.

Soft and burning, the taste of blood spreading.

Bian Xu blanked for a second but immediately hugged him back. Fingers trembling, vines surging, layer upon layer wrapping them close.

Time was almost up.

Si Zhiyan didn’t want to be parted from Bian Xu, not even for a second.

He knelt astride Bian Xu, gasping, white hair tangled, the strands draping both their bodies. Si Zhiyan lowered his head, pressing his forehead to Bian Xu’s, and asked, “Back then, what did you say?”

“That day, years ago—the day the Overgod arrived… before you entered the core, did you say something to me? I remember—it was something important.”

“What was it?”

Bian Xu hugged Si Zhiyan’s slender waist under the white robe, raising his face in worship. Already his god’s form was fading into the light.

How could he have forgotten? He forced a smile, voice trembling: “Sir forgot again…”

“Only I remember… That’s… so unfair.”

In Si Zhiyan’s blurry vision, Bian Xu drew a deep breath and embraced him tightly.

Like a child embraced by the Madonna, he buried his hot tears in Si Zhiyan’s chest and whispered:

“Sir.”

“…I love you.”

——

Buzz…

A tidal wave of confusion finally surged up.

Before Si Zhiyan managed any reply, he vanished into the void.

The warmth in his embrace disappeared. He fell abruptly into emptiness, subconsciously reaching out, only to clutch at air.

And in its place—

He was swept by surging bubbles and chaotic currents.

I want to see him. I haven’t answered. Don’t let him steal this away…

When the tension releases, you become fragile—Si Zhiyan shuddered in loss. Yet through the bubble-eddies, he steadied himself, looked up, and saw the glittering sky.

Ah. This was the spatial crevice.

Si Zhiyan, adrift in the chaos, murmured, “…This feels familiar.”

I’ve been here before.

Every time Bian Xu consumed his flesh, he entered this dreamland.

[Overgods] could survive in temporal rifts.
This was their territory.

So… So that’s it, he thought.

Boom! A giant bubble struck him; Si Zhiyan had nowhere to dodge, and was swept inside.

Dazzling light erupted.

A laboratory, built of translucent glass and pristine white materials, unfolded in the desert all around him.

—He floated in the air.

Before him stood anxious white-coated researchers. At the center, a competent woman with hair in a knot said coldly:

“—There are limits to liberating the meteorite. This time, let’s listen to its own voice.”

“It’s fine. If there’s any blame, I’ll take it—focus on your work. No one needs to sign the logs today; if anyone tries to stop me, I’ll take all responsibility.”

Click.

One hand in her pocket, she pressed a button.

The glass panels sank.

“Sky’s visitor…” The lead scientist lifted her chin to look at Si Zhiyan. “Do you have someone you want to choose?”

[Incident 326: The Fallen Star], Desert Research Center.

At that, how could Si Zhiyan not know?

His waveform began to tremble—joyful, anxious, complex but clear. The degree of deviation on the monitors shocked the onlookers.

Controlling his body within the meteorite, Si Zhiyan slowly opened red eyes.

In this moment, Si Zhiyan was a split of the [Overgod]. He had not yet given away any of his powers, had not yet been counted by the Overgod. His strength surpassed human understanding.

His sight crossed thousands of mountains, thousands of seas.

Beyond the ocean, in a rainy, nighttime city, he chose a youth lying in a pool of blood.

That gold hair like the morning sun—his very existence symbolized all things most beautiful.

Si Zhiyan knelt in the air, gaze falling upon him, and reached out.

In the blood and icy refuse, Bian Xu raised his head, that young face stained with blood, dazed, his pupils trembling and shrinking.

“Hello,” Si Zhiyan said, “nice to meet you.”

He tried not to be abrupt or jarring, but couldn’t quite control his gentleness.

So, with foreign awkwardness, he smiled and said:

“Among 5.4 billion humans, I have chosen you.”

“You are the most special one.”

……

Buzz…

The scene faded again. The chaos, the bubble sea, all returned to Si Zhiyan.

But now, he was no longer afraid.

It was as if he had dreamed a long dream.

In that journey, through the endless river of time, he had always drifted, unwittingly swept into each epoch.

Time moved on, step by step.

Bian Xu knelt and kissed his fingertips, accepted his gift.

The desert research base.

Countless experiments, human rejoicing and laughter.

The youth with golden hair, half lost, laughing along with the crowd, quietly clutching Si Zhiyan’s sleeve.

Nidhogg rolling his eyes at the end.

……

In the past, the meteorite clone [Si Zhiyan] received Si Zhiyan’s existence with an astonishing calmness, even indifference.

Back then, when Si Zhiyan was not there, past Si Zhiyan cared for nothing at all—cold and aloof.

Bian Xu was attracted at first sight, like a stray pup, glued tight to him.

In the chilly lab, Bian Xu leaned against his bed, beaming, eager and careful, showing off little trinkets, as if putting his world before Si Zhiyan.

A bunch of dried flowers, a book of poetry, a plate of homemade cheese bolognese pasta…

Most of the time Si Zhiyan didn’t quite get it.

But sometimes, his gaze would drift, pick up the lunchbox prepared for him, practice twirling a forkful of spaghetti, staring at the floating molecules of tomato and the scent of fermented cheese.

Then, he was learning about the world—tasting it through Bian Xu’s eyes and hands.

Sweet, sour, rich sauce with bits of cheese, clinging to noodles—delicious.

No matter how foreign you are, you can still find the taste good.

And in the present, when Si Zhiyan is there, he treats Bian Xu well.

He softens his gaze for Bian Xu, listens closely, takes the flowers from his hands, mimics the gestures in the book, and arranges them by his bedside glass. Those gold petals quiver, messy, like Bian Xu’s own wild locks.

At such times, Bian Xu smiles through tears, kneeling at the bedside, burying his face in Si Zhiyan’s lap.

That is how Bian Xu, relying on Si Zhiyan’s warmth—broken and fragmented as it was—survived those long, hard days.

It’s all right, Si Zhiyan thought. He’s melting me.

I will always be melted by you, because you are just that lovable.

Si Zhiyan made the Bian Xu of today, and Bian Xu made this Si Zhiyan—their destinies intertwined through time, never parted.

……

Si Zhiyan walked through the void.

Like a god, he looked back over his journey, gently adjusting the clockwork at each sudden twist of fate, ensuring the path always pointed the right way.

Days at the research base were harsh.

The head scientist’s iron will had created it all, but also caused everyone’s suffering.

Bian Xu and Nidhogg both had it rough. Nidhogg was stretched thin; Bian Xu, subjected to countless pain-threshold tests, soaked constantly in cold sweat, fainting and reviving, yet always forcing a smile for Si Zhiyan through the glass: I’m fine.

So Si Zhiyan started a fire.

He didn’t kill anyone, but he did destroy the facility, carrying Bian Xu from the flames. At the door, he saw Nidhogg, burned nearly to death.

After a single meeting of eyes, Nidhogg lost consciousness for good.

Because he was a clone, a non-natural life unrecognized by the Overgod, he could not receive its blessing or be named as a Chosen.

Si Zhiyan looked at him, recalling years later how that same person would be battered and fiery, and smiled slightly.

He gently hooked a finger, sending a sliver of energy into Nidhogg to begin his restoration.

After the fire was out, Nidhogg would awaken in the desert and then leave to face the wide world.

There was a child waiting for him, somewhere in the future.

An evil dragon looks best when laughing wild in fire.

……

And so, the Famine Game began.

Time passed; as bubbles thinned, Si Zhiyan’s appearances grew fewer.

The Si Zhiyan of that past did not need guidance—he began system creation with his own hands.
He marked himself as the next Overgod, marked Bian Xu as the first farm owner, and began plotting rebellion against the system.

Si Zhiyan helped Bian Xu form an expedition team called [Team Xubei], carefully collecting familiar faces.

He named the world fragments “Famine Seeds,” telling Bian Xu that one day, they would sprout into his companions. Bian Xu scratched his head, mumbled, and nodded.

Si Zhiyan had Bian Xu hand the [Famine Seed—Midnight CBD] to Lin Qiushui, to pass it on to someone reliable in the future.

……

Finally, they were discovered.

Furious at the split creating his own system, the Overgod rained blood from the skies, seeking to kill his avatar and destroy the farm.

In the blood mist, Bian Xu turned and said:
“—Let me become the farm’s core.”

So Bian Xu was consumed by blood and thorns, entombed beneath the earth as the core.

So Si Zhiyan sacrificed himself, grievously wounded and driven to seal away his memories, becoming the second farm owner.

The [Farm] sank into the underworld, gone from the world.

Time slipped by.

More than a year later, Si Zhiyan recovered, awoke with false memories, and opened his eyes in confusion.

And in his ears, a voice rang out—

[Ta-da~ Welcome aboard the ■■ Farm Planting System!]
[Bing! Congratulations, you have received [Absolutely Safe Farm] x1!]
[[Absolutely Safe Farm] is comprised of three five-meter cabins, a basement, and a garden twenty meters by thirty meters.]

[Ta-da~ Farm relocation in progress…]
[Current progress: 10%]
…

In the basement, Bian Xu woke, dazed and hungry, waving tentacles and vines.

Dozens of kilometers away, Lin Qiushui’s team was being chased by tall dark shadows, while Yun Shengsheng in the basket was so hungry she could barely move, her head resting on her brother’s back.

And so, the story of their trials and triumphs truly began.

……

High above, Si Zhiyan’s white hair drifted in the wind, watching bubbles dart through light, countless orbs coming and going in this gap.

At last, a great white light swallowed him.

In that light, Bian Xu reclined in the pure white space, already asleep. Blood loss and fatigue overwhelming, his golden hair scattered loose as he slumbered.

Endless crowds—players—stained the white ground with blood, raising high the throne they had carried for Si Zhiyan.

Si Zhiyan smiled.
He fell, body and soul at last united.

Rustle…

Si Zhiyan’s fingers moved slightly.

No one in the crowd missed it.

No one could say who called out first: “He’s awake!”

Si Zhiyan opened his eyes, smiled as he floated in midair, and waved to everyone: “Yes. Thank you.”

The crowd exploded in celebration.

People were still bleeding, many weak, but all cried out loudly:

“Mr. Si is awake!”
“Let me through, I’m a doctor, let me check…”
“Farm owner!”
“Mr. Si is so pretty, please step on me!”
“…Are you okay?”

Exultation crashed through the crowd, one shout passing to the next.

“We won! Is it true?”

“We won? Ah! Is it real?”
“Damn right! Outright victory!!”
“No more Famine Game ever again!!”
“Thank you, Mr. Si! Thank you, Commander!”

“Mr. Si!! We did it!!”
“We won!!!”

Nidhogg’s wing fanned the crowd with fire: “Si Zhiyan—! Boss! Oi!”
He Zai hopped for a glimpse, laughing as he grabbed his wing, “Easy, bro, it’s crowded.”

Alice, near tears, pounded his chest: “You bastard! What kind of job did you give me?!”

The inhabitants of the world fragments emerged.

Kazuko lunged at Si Zhiyan, so excited she nearly sobbed, loudly scolding “big brother, you idiot!”—no trace of her priestess poise, just that carefree girl. The High Priestess followed, giving Si Zhiyan a firm slap on the shoulder—the boldest display such a dignified man could bear.

Surrounded, Si Zhiyan could only laugh and beg for mercy.

Through the noise, Bian Xu finally woke, swaying and shoving to get a glimpse through the throng.

Across the sea of faces, Si Zhiyan instantly found him.

The white-haired god smiled, hair and robe drifting, and reached for Bian Xu.

—Among all people, you are still the most special of all.

Their reunion at the end of the world was like the night so long ago, when divinity first descended in the rain.

Bian Xu pressed forward, picking up speed, then finally ran and leapt into his arms.

At the very heart of the raging crowd, they embraced tightly.

A roar ascended yet another level. The rapture nearly upended the whole realm. Every recorder and camera snapped wildly.

The image of commander and god embracing would become a piece of history for countless generations.

They were living history!

This was the day the Famine Game, after nine years, finally ended. This was the embrace of victory!

In the flurry, Si Zhiyan clasped Bian Xu’s neck, shielding them, secretly biting his flushed ear.

“I love you, too.”

In a voice only the two of them could hear, Si Zhiyan said with a smile.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting so long for those words.”

Bian Xu buried his face in Si Zhiyan’s neck, nodding frantically, shaking, face nearly in tears with joy but crazy with happiness, barely keeping from breaking down in front of everyone.

At the end of a long night, you were there waiting for me.

Outside, the endless night the Overgod had brought finally ended.

After so many days, the sun rose again; dawn’s light pierced the clouds and spilled down to earth.

From now on, life would be wide open—a road smooth ahead.

……

With the Famine Game ended, an era of reconstruction unfolded.

With Si Zhiyan as leader and “god,” and Bian Xu as commander-in-chief, the surviving humans and world fragments united to build a new civilization.

[Game Civilization].

“Now that the Overgod has left us with a system and abilities, there’s no reason for us to go backwards,” Si Zhiyan said, relaxing in the farm owner’s cabin and cupping his chin with a smile.

“The Overgod’s shop’s still around, and the farm system still runs as usual.”

“We can coexist with the game.”

Who knows how many worlds that Overgod once laid waste to—this mythic “Ant Blind Box” world was broader than the earth by far.

Far away, ever-new world fragments waited to be explored.

Each fragment meant vast resources and a hidden world to discover.

In some sense, this place was even more suitable than earth to live in.

There’d be many, many years of development ahead. Si Zhiyan stretched and thought.

Someday, centuries or millennia from now, when this world was fully explored, they’d have also mastered cross-space travel.

By then, they’d seek new frontiers.

A new era.
An era of games.

On careful examination, though they had secured final victory, things were not that optimistic.

Heavy losses had afflicted the world fragments; many shifted to rest and recovery, each returning to their form as energy orbs.

For the first time, the farm received a notification reading [Insufficient Energy Remaining]. It urged Si Zhiyan to replenish more “tale energy,” or else the restoration of the orbs would be affected.

People looked excited, every face bright—but once they got back to safety, exhaustion and pain surfaced one by one.

Even with millions sharing the burden, the god-slaying [Collapse of Buzhou Mountain] was not easily survived.

Many clutched their arms, grimacing in pain. The weaker or more unlucky had to consider amputation; some were even in dire straits.

The [Thorned Ring]’s distribution was unfair and random, and some had very bad luck in the wounds they received.

After all, Peter Pan Company was a toy shop; these things were haphazard at best. Ask them for rigor, they’d only shrug: you pay for alien bananas, you get work from alien monkeys.

Bian Xu was furious.

But if all that was bearable pain—

There remained the most serious problem of all.

—The Overgod that had tormented everyone for so long was not so easily dealt with.

It had burst, collapsed, spent all its tricks, ended as a squirming mound, forming a bloody, undulating throne.

This was the Overgod’s destined fate.

After centuries of struggle, it all ended in the inheritance of the Overgod.
So many ruined worlds and lives, all now ending with a period, here.

The [Overgod] was dead, become an [Inheritance Throne].

…Who cared about inheritance—Si Zhiyan had no wish to sit there.

The [Overgod] propagated by parasitism—which meant that, millions of years ago, this one’s origin had also been a member of some intelligent race.

Did you see any trace of its original self left? Could you find a speck of humanity?

If you sat on the Overgod’s throne, you would only become the new Overgod. You’d never be yourself again.

Like the snail parasitized by the fluke—all that you did would only extend another life.

But if no one sat, it was dangerous too.

Truth could not be hidden forever. The story of the Overgod’s inheritance would someday leak. Humanity had no shortage of ambition or folly; leave that thing alone, and sooner or later, some clueless fool would try it.

Let alone—it was made of living flesh, still squirming…

Who knew whether it would try to re-form? The Overgod was cunning to the end; what if it had another trick? Delay meant danger.

So what to do…

The farm decision-makers gathered in Si Zhiyan’s cottage, waiting for orders.

Worry etched every face.

Now the “cabin” was huge, white as a shrine, with cloud-mist drifting everywhere, like a palace in heaven.

Everyone said, coming to a meeting here felt like a council in a god’s temple—hearts stirred.

This was Bian Xu’s little dramatic taste; obsessed with Si Zhiyan’s divinity, he’d insisted on making the reception room this way. Si Zhiyan could only laugh and let it be.

He sat in the midst of them, silent and calm, pen twirling in his fingers, then waved—

“Bian Xu, go. Hmm… take Nidhogg and He Zai. In fact, let’s all go.”

With a faint smile, he spoke:

“Let’s eat the Overgod’s remains together.”

Everyone: “…”

Everyone: “?!!!!!”

Bian Xu’s voice cracked: “Eh—?!”

Si Zhiyan reclined in the clouds and smiled: “Since it was so terrified of being eaten, leaving it uneaten would really be letting it down.”

“Wasting food is a sin.”

That’s right.

The [Overgod]’s carcass held tremendous energy.

Taking the inheritance was risky—but just eating it together, that was perfectly fine.

This way, the fragments could recover their energy.
And the wounded could heal their bodies—a medical miracle.

Everyone wins!

“Don’t worry, just treat it like a concentrated meal supplement,” Si Zhiyan said. “It’s just a condensed, undiluted version of the Overgod—nutrient paste.”

From the back, Nidhogg’s voice broke: “Don’t drag me into this! I never liked nutrient paste, even as a kid!”

Alice side-eyed him, “The Famine Game only started nine years ago—when were you ever a kid?”

Nidhogg folded his arms and snorted, “When the Game began, I was only seven or eight!”

Alice: “…”
How could such a scruffy guy tell such bald-faced lies?

Bian Xu: “…………”
Damn, in a sense he might even be telling the truth.

Si Zhiyan sighed inwardly.

Cloning still wasn’t all that advanced, apparently.

“It’s fine,” he said, smiling. “I know everyone doesn’t like bad-tasting things.”

In his white robe and white hair, nestled in clouds, Si Zhiyan crooked a finger.

Whoosh—

The windows opened.

From the grass outside, a thick, tempting scent of roast mutton with cumin and chili wafted up, sizzles of lamb fat crackling on the coals—the aroma filled the air for miles.

This smell…

“Roast whole lamb!!” Nidhogg jerked his head up.

“Mhm.” Si Zhiyan nodded with a smile.

“I had the farm digest the Overgod ages ago. The growth outside is a farm product now.”

“[Roast Whole Overgod].”

People were stunned into silence.

But as the amazement faded, they couldn’t help…

Swallowing hard.

Well, yes—it really did smell good!

“Everyone, eat well and live well.”

Si Zhiyan stretched lazily, smiling.

“This is the [farm], after all.”

“—Come on, let’s eat!”

(End of main story)