Famine 90: Fantasia Blossom Fields

[Silver-Plumed Phantom] Liang Qingshuang wore an icy blue and white chiffon dress today. Her slender, elegant legs kicked out in a lethal arc that traced across the sky.

Sssch!
With the sweep of her ice blade, the last moth fell.

From her vantage atop the watchtower, Lin Qiushui scanned the scene for a long while, seeing only exhausted players collapsed on the wall, panting beast-warriors, and the corpses of moths strewn everywhere.
Within her field of vision, not a single living human-faced moth remained.

At last, she signaled: “Battle’s over.”

“Thank you, everyone. We… we’ve won!”

Nearby, Gaozhai put down the [Bug-Attracting Mosquito Lamp] in her hand.

Half-covered in blood, Liang Qingshuang seemed almost unable to process it: “…We won?”
Gaozhai took a deep breath: “We really did… we actually won!”

Relief swept through Lin Qiushui, all her strength ebbing away at once; she slumped down, resting limply against the battlements. Yun Zhong and Hu Yongchang scrambled up and crowded around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Thank you, thank you, Brother Lin!” Hu Yongchang’s voice broke with emotion. “If not for you, my life would have ended here! You’re my savior!”
“I’m no good at saying fancy things, but from now on, you’re my big brother! Whatever you need from me, just say the word!”

Yun Zhong laughed, “If you want to be the captain’s little brother, you’ll have to get in line.”

Hu Yongchang asked sincerely, “How long’s the line?”

Yun Zhong replied, “Hmm… Let me count… me, Shengsheng, Brother Wang, our whole squad is nine, plus all the service players you just saved…”

This kid—he’s actually keeping count!
Lin Qiushui was too exhausted to joke, too tired to move, so she simply leaned into Hu Yongchang, coughing out a wheezing laugh.

Joyful voices and hoarse shouts erupted across the wall, echoing to the very sky.

“That eye! The eye’s gone!”
“Wiped out!! All the bugs are wiped out!!”
“The farm is safe!!”

Li Xuan, wiping sweat from her brow, organized the wounded for transport, having already held back a team for post-battle herbal and medical care. For everyone else—service players and fighters alike—they jumped and squeezed together, hugging with wild abandon.

One service player collapsed, shouting with utter exhaustion: “I’m eating barbecue for the rest of my life!!”

A wave of good-natured laughter swept through the crowd. A young fighter called out, “It’s on me!!”

Someone grinned foolishly: “Wow, you know, just a while ago, I really thought it was over for the farm.”

“No way! The farm is here to stay for all ages to come!”

Wang Wen declared, “We’re farm people, followers of the farm owner—there’s not a coward among us.”

“That’s right!”
“Couldn’t agree more!”
“We farm folks are something else!”

The huge frost-horned rabbit seemed to agree, shaking its fluffy body energetically, almost as if nodding.

Everyone broke into laughter. Tang Qinghuai was no longer afraid of the fierce little rabbit; she leaned against its soft fur, affectionately rubbing her cheek up against it.

“Thank you, little bunny.”

They all crowded around, praising the frost-horn rabbit’s contribution in the battle. In the unbearable heat, this living, furry icebox saved many lives. What’s more, if it hadn’t led the way, the service players might never have made it up the wall at all!

The rabbit swayed with delight.
It had made new friends.

In this moment, no one spoke of distinctions between service players, combatants, or even magical beasts. Hierarchies, stereotypes—all the old walls that once seemed insurmountable had all but dissolved, and after today’s battle together, were swept away entirely.

From this point on, all these players from every corner now shared a single identity—they were farm people, comrades, followers of the farm owner.
@All the best stories, only at Jinjiang Literature City

Amidst the cheers, Si Zhiyan descended to the wall, smiling as he accepted their elation.
When unity of heart is achieved, a team can be led with ease. This sense of belonging was priceless—worth more than any reward.

“Look! The farm owner’s back!”
“Farm owner, sir!!”

Thunderous applause and shouts rose from below.

Someone even threw up a hand and shouted, “The farm owner’s beaten the Supreme God!!!”

…That’s a bit much. Si Zhiyan broke out in a cold sweat.

Amid the celebratory shouts, Si Zhiyan perched atop the walls and glanced through his rewards…
Good—now was just the right time to use this one.

With a wave of his fingertip, he pointed into the heart of the farm.

Players leaned over the battlements, peering inward.

Pop!

On the boundless green, a tiny, delicate flower suddenly broke through the earth.

The flower was tiny—so small, it could hardly be seen from this distance, its heart a floating yellow sphere, the petals gently quivering in the air, scattering the faintest shimmer of pollen into the breeze.

As that pollen touched the ground, more flower buds broke through the soil.

Two, four, sixteen, hundreds of tiny blossoms multiplied at an exponential rate.
In just a few breaths, the meadows outside Fantasia Town were ablaze with a dreamlike flower field. Soft, rainbow-bright magical blossoms clustered together, swaying in the morning light, dancing in the breeze.

With the farm protected, these lovely little creatures could finally put down safe roots.

“So beautiful…”
One player was near speechless.
Liang Qingshuang covered her mouth, eyes brimming with tears. “This is… just so romantic…”

Thump!
Amid golden motes and flickering blue light—

Anderson, with his Xubei teammates, collapsed directly at the heart of the field.

These Chosen Ones—fourteen in all—had held back an entire forest, and now, each one was beyond exhausted. They collapsed onto the soft flower field, but the little flowers, radiating their own unique magic, didn’t bend. Instead, they happily quivered and buoyed the warriors gently above the petals.

Kneeling in the flowers, Zhong Yanqing hesitated to even close his eyes, gently touching a blossom with his finger:
“Ah… so healing… I never thought I’d see something this delicate and beautiful…”

Wang Jianguo had returned to human form, bare and covered in black-red burns—remnants of wounds left from his sabertooth shape. Anderson prepared to carry him off for treatment, but Wang Jianguo bared his teeth in a broad grin, wincing skyward:

“Shit… don’t move me, come on. This is where the real heroes belong—what use is a hospital room? Let me rest here and take in this view, this scent. Worth every scar!”

“Right, Shi He?”
@All the best stories, only at Jinjiang Literature City

He turned his head. “Shi He?”

Shi He heard nothing.
His concentration had been strung tight for so long that now his bones felt shattered, every part disconnected, his head pounding, too weak to lift an arm.

I survived, he thought foggily. Maybe after this, I’ll finally get to see my brother again. That’s a good thing.

Without realizing it, the bloody slit pupils had faded away as if they’d never existed. The youth was soaked in sweat, his face streaked with black ash, lying flat on the lawn, hands folded neatly at his side, taking up barely any space at all.

It was a lifelong habit of his.

Shi He’s childhood had been spent in cramped apartments. Nidhogg hadn’t been a wealthy guardian; it was as if they’d always lived in the shadows, running from something. Brash in manner, afraid to leave a mark.

Nidhogg lived through the nights of war, venturing out during darkness, taking shady commissions. Early on, he’d leave Shi He homework to finish by dawn; later, as Shi He grew older, he’d simply take him along—teaching him to shoot, to fight, to slip through crowds without leaving a trace…

At sunrise, they’d squeeze on a single bed together.

There wasn’t much room: workshop, training space for a child—there was little left for a bedroom, just enough for a single cot.

But it didn’t matter; skinny war orphans are easily housed. As long as there was a little corner of the bed, that was enough.

Nidhogg’s body was always hot, the covers steamy and warm, and he’d sleep poorly, flinging limbs around until the boy was bundled up tight in his arms.
Shi He would curl up against him, ear to his brother’s heartbeat, snuggling close and drifting off in perfect peace.

No rain, no shellfire, just the muffled warm light of sunlight filtering through blinds. Every inch of the crowded room familiar and beloved…

That was home.

Wherever his brother was—that was home.

Outside, fog hung heavy, but above the farm, the sky was forever blue. Countless petals rained down in the wind.

…
I want to watch it with my brother.

Where is he?
Shi He wondered, half-conscious.

At least tonight, he’ll remember me.
Even if it’s hate, that’s better—at least don’t forget me.

Someone seemed to be speaking—excited voices he couldn’t make out… Surely an illusion.

“Don’t you dare sleep—wake up!!” Anderson’s voice was desperate. He slapped Shi He’s cheek hard. Everyone knelt by Shi He’s side; the youth’s eyes were unfocused, calmly staring up at the sky.

“Damn… It’s backlash. He must have overused his Chosen powers,” Wang Jianguo grit his teeth. “High-intensity sniping is mentally exhausting—usually he can only keep it up for a few dozen minutes, but he managed a whole night this time. The backlash finally caught up. His condition’s never gotten this bad before.”

“What do we do? Anyone have a spell to heal mental injuries?”

The others’ faces tensed; they all shook their heads.

In the Famine Game, spells for treating psychological trauma were rare beyond rare. It seemed the Supreme God had simply decided that anyone without a resilient mind was unfit for survival.

This was not something coffee could cure. It couldn’t mend wounds—just force wakefulness, and that would only worsen things.

Rustle…
A breeze swept by, the flower field swaying gently.

Suddenly, floating up from the soft field, a substance like pollen—pale-yellow motes—drifted upward, swirling amidst the blossoms.

They gave off faint glimmers, swirling lazily around everyone, especially…

The wounds.

“Huh? What’s this?” Wang Jianguo paused, touching them gently. “Kinda warm… feels good, actually.”

“Wait!” Zhong Yanqing’s eyes widened. “Hey—your wound’s getting smaller!”

Those fierce red burns shrank beneath the touch of the motes.

Humm!
Not just here—in every part of the field, the same was happening to others.

Excited voices echoed again and again.

“My burns are gone!”
“Really! It doesn’t hurt anymore!”
“These flowers are amazing!”
“So pretty—and actually useful!”

At the flower field’s heart, Shi He’s mind gradually cleared. The blurred sky above slowly came back into focus as he returned to himself.

Huh. What happened?

Shi He blinked, only to realize he was crying.

“You scared us!” Zhong Yanqing threw his arms around him.

Wang Jianguo swore affectionately, swiping away his own tears.

Up above the flower field, Si Zhiyan faced the dawn breeze, watching it all with a smile.

[Little Blossom Field]
Living magical flowers. No words, no history—just a cluster of fragile, timid beings. They dwell deep in forests and meadows, slender and soft, easily crushed.
The flower field survives on happiness.
Wherever a happy community takes root, in time, these fields appear nearby.

The flowers naturally sense it’s the safest place.
The more happy people nearby, the bigger and stronger the flower field grows.

[Stage One—Healing Song]
In gratitude for the happiness they share, the flowers sing a gentle melody.
A single flower is insignificant, but hundreds, thousands together, their songs join.
People may not hear it, but they’ll feel its effects.

Resting in the field for more than twenty minutes will bring great recovery and healing to the spirit.
Truly, beholding a sea of flowers soothes the soul—maybe that’s just how it is.

Besides that, physical wounds will begin to heal from the surface.
Its effects are limited, of course—serious injuries are beyond it.
After all, they’re only little flowers.

—The wounded from this battle suffered mainly mental trauma, with superficial burns and scalds. Large areas affected, but the wounds weren’t deep.

This sea of flowers was just right.

The effect looked excellent; Si Zhiyan nodded in satisfaction.
When the population grew, surely the field would expand, unlocking more abilities.

There was much to build. This time’s rewards included shops, terrain, and plenty of points—Si Zhiyan’s mind was already at work planning.

But there was something even more important just now.

Si Zhiyan landed in the flower field. Shi He and the others promptly stood to greet him. “Welcome, Farm Owner!”

Si Zhiyan nodded gently, then fixed his eyes on Shi He.

“Every fifteen days, the first candidate’s location and information are broadcast across the whole map.”
“In a few hours, Nidhogg’s coordinates will be broadcast again.”

Si Zhiyan’s fingertips brushed Shi He’s shoulder in calm, gentle—but utterly decisive—tones:

“Tonight, you must go find him.”

Instantly, Shi He’s eyes lit up: “I can? Thank you!”
But soon dimmed again: “But… maybe my brother won’t want to see me…”

Si Zhiyan paused for a brief moment.

“No.”
“At least for now… he probably won’t be able to refuse you.”