strictlysupreme Chapter 127 Wheat Field
Chapter 127 Wheat Field
Chapter 127 Wheat Field
As Xu Mo left the breakfast stall, he kept thinking about how he would deal with the threat posed by the Red Star Industrial Zone. The idea of nuking it kept swirling in his mind.
After thinking for a while, Xu Mo suddenly slapped his head: "Damn it, Jiangcheng's leadership has so many smart people working together, why am I worrying about this?"
To banish the thought from his mind, Xu Mo began to wander around.
With no longer considering future threats, Xu Mo's mindset became quite peaceful.
With 15,000 points in hand, Xu Mo decided that he would not take on missions from the Hunter's Guild to earn extra money until his contribution points fell below a certain threshold that would put his mind at ease.
Having just broken through to the Iron Bone Realm, Xu Mo felt he needed time to stabilize his realm and further explore the potential of this new realm.
Of course, Xu Mo didn't forget to check his identity. Having gone from an outer perimeter cleanup mission to an observer stationed at the fortress for so long, his survivor level should have increased significantly.
By checking his identity terminal, Xu Mo discovered that his level had been upgraded from E to D.
According to the Hunter's Guild's rules, D-rank survivors are theoretically qualified to accept the highest-rank C-rank missions.
C-level missions often involve exploring more core areas, fighting more zombies, or acquiring more important resources, and the rewards and risks are naturally higher as well.
However, Xu Mo, who was neither short of money nor in a hurry to take risks, simply kept this information in mind as an option for the future.
In the days that followed, Xu Mo lived a routine life that was almost like that of a "homebody".
In the early morning, he practices standing meditation and qigong in his own courtyard; in the morning, he studies various books and maintains his weapons and equipment; in the afternoon, if the weather is fine, he will occasionally go out for a stroll.
Xu Mo's purpose in going out was simple: first, to try out a few well-regarded restaurants in the inner city; and second, to visit the open-air market in the outer city, which was spontaneously formed by scavengers and private merchants. The market was a mixed bag, filled with all sorts of "good things" salvaged from the ruins, some genuine and some fake, ranging from rusty tools, broken electrical components, and yellowed books to some strange specimens, jewelry, and even things that claimed to be "antiques".
Xu Mo wasn't particularly interested in Taobao, but he enjoyed observing the diverse people there, listening to them haggle, boast about their adventures, or spread various rumors. This helped him get a more grounded understanding of the pulse of Jiangcheng and the prevailing gossip.
As for the skies above Jiangcheng, those unsettling bird shadows seemed to have temporarily withdrawn their claws.
Although a few mutated birds occasionally wandered into the urban area, causing small-scale disturbances and attacks, these were usually small-scale and were quickly dealt with by patrolling security teams or air defense teams that arrived on the scene using crossbows or shotguns.
Perhaps it was because this "minor skirmish" continued for a while without escalating, or perhaps it was because Jiangcheng's increasingly sophisticated air defense system gave people confidence, that residents' fear of the sky gradually faded, and pedestrians on the street no longer made the kind of sudden, startled movements of looking up like frightened birds.
An even more noticeable change is that the sound of airplane engines, which had been absent from Jiangcheng for some time, has once again begun to regularly streak across the skies above the city.
First came reconnaissance helicopters, then transport planes, and occasionally even formations of fighter jets or armed helicopters could be seen conducting patrols and drills.
Seeing the planes soaring through the sky again, Xu Mo felt a little relieved. He knew that once Jiangcheng's air force resumed patrols, its primary task would undoubtedly be to closely monitor the movements of the mutated bird flocks in the direction of the Red Star Industrial Zone.
Since Jiangcheng dared to let its precious aircraft take off again and maintain a certain frequency of patrols, it at least shows that the flocks of birds currently being monitored have not shown any signs of attacking Jiangcheng's airspace.
The black crown of the Red Star Industrial Zone may still be expanding, but it has at least been temporarily confined to a certain scope and level of threat.
Days passed by in this seemingly calm yet subtly unsettling rhythm. The trees along the street sprouted more new green leaves, and pedestrians' clothes gradually became lighter and lighter. The air began to fill with the warm scent unique to early summer, a mixture of plant growth and urban dust.
Summer is coming.
As the seasons change, the tone of Jiangcheng Radio has become increasingly positive and uplifting. In addition to routine safety tips and policy announcements, a significant amount of airtime is now dedicated to promoting the upcoming summer grain harvest.
"Under the wise leadership of the Management Committee, and with the hard work of all agricultural workers and the joint efforts of the general public, the winter wheat in the three major reclamation areas surrounding the Jiangcheng Shelter is growing well and has now fully entered the critical grain-filling stage. A historic harvest is expected in about a month! This marks a solid step forward on the road to food self-sufficiency, and the foundation of Jiangcheng will be even more solid…!"
The broadcast was filled with rousing tones and optimistic prospects. For this giant shelter with millions of mouths to feed, a successful, large-scale harvest was no less significant than winning a crucial defensive battle.
It means less dependence on external forces, more stable internal public sentiment, and stronger long-term survival capabilities.
In addition to the good news of a bumper harvest, Xu Mo also heard another announcement on the radio that surprised him: "A delegation of senior management personnel from the Rock Shelter will visit the Jiangcheng headquarters soon for several days of friendly exchanges and working consultations."
"Rock Shelter—" Upon hearing this name, Xu Mo was momentarily dazed, and the floodgates of memory quietly opened.
Since he left Qingsongling and plunged into the much larger vortex of Jiangcheng, there had been almost no concrete news about the Panshi Shelter. Now that it has reappeared in the public eye, and with the attitude of "developing well and sending delegations for exchanges," it indicates that this once large private shelter has gradually recovered its vitality after being incorporated into the Jiangcheng system, and may even have experienced new developments.
"It seems the outside world isn't always so desolate," Xu Mo mused. Clearly, there's communication, competition, and even mergers between shelters; Jiangcheng isn't the only isolated island.
Perhaps it was the hopeful harvest forecast on the radio that inspired Xu Mo, or perhaps it was his desire to temporarily escape the dullness of staying at home to cultivate for days, but that afternoon, Xu Mo suddenly decided to drive out for a drive.
He started the SUV, which hadn't been driven for a long time and was covered in dust. Although he only planned to drive around the relatively safe area under Jiangcheng's control, his post-apocalyptic habits made him make the necessary preparations for arming himself. He placed the machete within easy reach of the passenger seat and the TT33 pistol in its quick-draw holster on his waist.
With a deep roar from the engine, the SUV drove out of the inner city, through the busier and more chaotic outer city, and out of the majestic main city wall of Jiangcheng.
After the SUV drove out of Jiangcheng, the view suddenly opened up, revealing that there were more ruins and restricted areas outside the city walls than just ruins.
Thanks to Jiangcheng's planned clearing, leveling, and reclamation, large tracts of land that were once barren or littered with construction waste have been transformed into neat farmland. Before Xu Mo's eyes now stretches an endless expanse of wheat fields, currently in the grain-filling and flowering stage.
The wheat fields rippled in the wind, creating layers of green and yellow waves that stretched to the horizon.
The air was filled with the fresh scent of grasses, mixed with the slightly earthy smell of soil baked by the sun, creating a scene brimming with the vibrant energy of life.
After driving for a while, Xu Mo turned the car onto a small road and slowed down, slowly driving along the country road.
Looking at this hopeful green ocean, Xu Mo felt that the gloom in his heart had been washed away by this vibrant scene.
Food is the lifeline. The bumper harvest of this wheat field means that Jiangcheng's food supply will be more abundant next year, and the bottom line for survival will be more solid.
This is undoubtedly the strongest reassurance for everyone living in Jiangcheng.
The boundless wheat field also stirred up Xu Mo's deep-seated memories of the peaceful era before his time travel.
In a daze, Xu Mo seemed to return to his childhood, walking along a country road after school with his schoolbag on his back. On both sides of the road, there were wheat stalks, about waist-high, in the grain-filling stage, their heavy ears of wheat bending the stalks slightly, shimmering with a golden light in the setting sun.
At that time, I was carefree, and I felt as if I were looking at a field full of hope, and even the air tasted sweet.
Memories brought a slight smile to Xu Mo's lips. He parked the car on the side of the road where it wouldn't obstruct traffic, got out, took a deep breath of the wheat-scented air, and strolled towards the edge of the field.
As he walked through a field of wheat growing exceptionally well, he saw a figure that seemed out of place amidst the bountiful harvest.
He was an elderly farmer who looked to be in his sixties. His skin was dark and his face was etched with deep wrinkles, like the cracks on parched earth. At that moment, he was squatting alone on the edge of the field, a gleaming copper pipe dangling from his mouth, taking intermittent puffs.
Amidst the swirling smoke, his brow was furrowed, his gaze fixed on the rolling green waves of wheat before him. His eyes held no joy of impending harvest, but rather an overwhelming sorrow and deep worry.
Xu Mo's heart stirred slightly, and he walked over to strike up a conversation: "Old man, look how well this wheat is growing. This year is sure to be a bumper harvest."
Hearing the voice, the old farmer slowly turned his head, glanced at Xu Mo, then at his attire and the SUV parked by the roadside, a fleeting, complex emotion flashing in his cloudy eyes. He took off his pipe, tapped the ash on the sole of his shoe, and replied in a dry voice, "Yes, it's growing well. I haven't seen wheat grow this well in decades. It's fertile and has hardly any pests or diseases—"
"Then what's wrong with you—" Xu Mo pointed to his furrowed brows, "The wheat is growing well, why are you looking so worried? Are you worried about not having enough people to harvest it?"
The old farmer remained silent for a long while, his withered lips twitching as if he wanted to say something, but then he swallowed it back. He relit his pipe, took a deep drag, and the pungent smoke seemed to give him a little courage to speak.
"Young man, you're not a farmer, are you?" the old farmer asked in a hoarse voice. "I've spent my whole life working the land and tending to the crops. Of course, I'm happy that the wheat is growing well. But what I'm more afraid of is when it's almost ripe."
"What are you afraid of?" Xu Mo asked, puzzled.
"What are you afraid of?" The old farmer looked up at the hazy sky at the edge of the wheat field, a flicker of fear in his eyes. "I'm afraid of those with wings!"
He paused, seemingly lost in memories, his voice becoming distant: "When I was little, my family had a few acres of land. When the wheat was almost ripe, sparrows and magpies would come in flocks, a dark mass, landing in the fields and pecking at the wheat ears. Back then, my parents would make me run around the fields all day with a bamboo pole tied with tattered strips of cloth, chasing away the birds. It was tiring, but also fun. Later, when I had a few sons, I would also make them chase away the birds when the wheat ripened. The boy was just like I was back then, laughing and joking, not taking it seriously—"
At this point, the old farmer's voice suddenly became extremely hoarse, and his hand holding the pipe trembled slightly: "But now my grandson—I dare not let him come to the edge of the field, those winged ones—they are different now."
""
The old farmer opened his mouth several times, his face turning red, and the veins on his neck bulging, as if he had a lot to say but his throat was too narrow to get the words out.
Perhaps out of fear of speaking, or perhaps unwilling to reopen that bloody wound in front of strangers, the old farmer finally took a deep drag on his pipe, as if the pungent smoke could suppress the fear in his heart.
Seeing the old man's appearance, Xu Mo instantly understood everything.
What the old man was worried about was not the ordinary sparrows and magpies, but the mutated birds with poisonous claws that were circling over the Red Star Industrial Zone.
It's still over a month before the wheat ripens and fills out, and at that time, the golden, plump ears of wheat are a huge temptation for any bird. Let alone those large, aggressive flocks of mutated birds that have already tasted the new flavor?
If they were to attack in large numbers, it would be a catastrophe for Jiangcheng's food supply. Scare them away? Ordinary scarecrows and noise-making devices would likely be ineffective. Using people to scare them away? That would be like handing the birds a snack!
"Don't worry too much." Xu Mo paused for a moment, then tried to speak in a reassuring tone, "What you can think of, the higher-ups in Jiangcheng must have thought of long ago, and they definitely have a way to protect these crops."
Even Xu Mo himself felt a little unsure about these words. Faced with potentially overwhelming and agile flocks of birds, could anti-aircraft firepower effectively cover the vast farmland? Could the cost be afforded? But that was all Xu Mo could say, giving the worried old man in front of him, and also giving Jiangcheng a glimmer of hope.
The old man listened, then silently nodded and shook his head, saying nothing more, continuing to stare at his wheat field, puffing on his cigarette in silence.
Xu Mo lost interest in admiring the wheat field. He nodded to the old man, turned around, and went back to his car.
Xu Mo started the engine, turned the car around, and drove towards Jiangcheng.
Outside the car window, the boundless wheat fields still rippled in the wind, displaying vibrant life. But at this moment, in Xu Mo's eyes, this hopeful green seemed to be shrouded in an ominous shadow.
The old man's unfinished words, and the deep-seated fear within him, pierced his heart like a thorn. Xu Mo recalled again the enormous flock of birds he had witnessed in the Red Star Industrial Zone, blotting out the sky as they circled above the industrial zone without hunting the zombies.
"They might not just be staying there, they might be waiting—" Xu Mo's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, "waiting for this wheat field to ripen."
From grouting to maturity, it will take about thirty days.
These thirty days are the golden period for wheat grains to accumulate starch and protein, and also the countdown to the ever-approaching threat.
Are the leaders of Jiangcheng truly prepared? Can they withstand this potential celestial feast that may bring both abundance and disaster?
The SUV accelerated along the bumpy country road, gradually leaving the exhilarating yet worrisome green sea behind. Xu Mo's self-glow shone through the windshield onto the majestic city walls of Jiangcheng, his gaze complex.
The city walls can stop the zombies on the ground, but can they stop the plundering of the very foundation of survival from the sky?
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