Vegetables Sprout

Chapter Twenty-Five: Vegetables Sprout

After the thrill of driving back the Demonic Beasts and the joy of successfully firing the first batch in the pottery kiln had gradually faded, Chen An's life seemed to return to a seemingly uneventful yet inwardly tense routine.

Every day, he continued maintaining the Safe Zone, exploring the surrounding buffer areas, and expanding his ever-growing arsenal of survival skills.

Yet there was one place that always tugged at his heartstrings, carrying his simplest and most urgent hope—the garden plot he had cultivated with his own hands and planted with seeds.

The planting season seemed like it had only been yesterday. He had carefully buried seeds from another world, carrying ordinary hopes, into this fertile Primordial soil.

At the time, his heart had been filled with uncertainty. He did not know whether these delicate lives could adapt to the soil here, whether they could withstand the hidden dangers, or how long it would take them to bring forth the first hint of green symbolizing a harvest.

Days passed amid alternating sunrises and sunsets, Demonic Beast roars, and the tranquility of the Safe Zone. Spring turned to autumn—or rather, on this land with no clearly defined seasons, driven only by the instincts of life, time flowed in another way.

Chen An went to check the garden several times every day. At first, he had merely inspected it mechanically, but later, he did so with increasingly fervent anticipation.

Finally, on a particularly sunny morning, when he was carrying his stone bowl to fetch water from the well as usual, his steps halted at the edge of the garden.

A change had occurred.

The land, which had seemed silent save for a few sparse weeds stubbornly poking their heads out, was now witnessing a silent and magnificent ritual of life's revival.

In several areas where he had carefully sown seeds, tiny, almost imperceptible cracks had appeared on the soil's surface. Then, tender green shoots, extremely faint yet pulsing with life, timidly poked their heads out through the fissures.

They were sprouts! The seeds had germinated!

Chen An's heart jolted. He almost held his breath as he slowly crouched down and leaned closer for a careful look. This was not thin, fragile greenery, but plump vitality containing a power that was difficult to put into words.

Two cotyledons tightly enclosed the tips of the shoots, like a pair of tiny folded wings, or two chubby little hands straining upward. Stubbornly, they pushed through the soil above them and stretched toward the light.

He forcibly restrained his excitement and did not touch them at once. He knew these newborn lives were extremely fragile. He stood up and swept his gaze across the entire garden.

To his delight, he discovered that it was not limited to one or two spots. Everywhere he had planted Little White Cabbage, lettuce, and salad greens, scattered points of tender green had emerged!

They were like stars in the night sky. Though sparse, they were dazzling beyond measure, proclaiming that an era of new life had officially begun on this land.

Over the next few days, Chen An devoted nearly all his energy to observing this tiny, awakening oasis.

He discovered that these sprouts grew at an astonishing speed!

After only a day or two, the tightly wrapped cotyledons slowly opened, revealing the true first leaves curled beneath them.

The shapes of the leaves were already faintly discernible—the spreading form of Little White Cabbage and the slender shape of lettuce.

Then the second and third true leaves sprouted, grew, and unfurled at an astonishing pace. The tender stems also rose and thickened at a speed visible to the naked eye, as if an invisible force were constantly pulling them upward.

What shocked Chen An most was the color these plants displayed.

It was not the gentle, slightly dull green of an ordinary vegetable garden. Beneath the pure yet primitive-energy-filled sunlight of the Primordial World, these newborn leaves displayed an almost translucent, crystalline emerald green! It was as if every leaf had condensed from the purest essence of life. The veins were clearly visible, like carefully carved jade channels, shimmering with the luster of life.

It was a crystalline emerald so vivid it seemed almost ready to flow, like the first pool of melted snow in early spring soaking into every part of the leaves. When sunlight passed through, the green was no longer a still color but transformed into dancing points of light, like liquid vitality enclosed within the finest jade. It was so pure, so unreserved, that every inch of its veins seemed to pulse with living sap, forming a vibrant contrast with the dusty, withered, sickly greens outside. Here, life was not struggling; it was blooming naturally and joyfully.

He began to understand that this was not merely the result of good soil and sufficient water. This land, this land known as the Primordial Wilderness, was fraught with danger, yet it contained an immense and primitive life energy—a kind of unrefined "spiritual energy."

This energy was like invisible milk, greedily absorbed by the vegetable seeds and converted into extraordinary growth.

They were not merely growing. It was more as if, through their dialogue with the environment, they were being infused with the wildness and vitality of this land.

Chen An was no longer merely an observer. Every day, he used that battered pottery bowl—he had already learned to use a vine-woven net to draw water from the well carefully, avoiding breaking it—to scoop up clear water from the well that provided a steady supply of mild, clean water, and cautiously watered the seedlings.

He no longer used his previous method of flooding the entire plot. Instead, he learned to work like a farmer, following the furrows and carefully moistening the roots of each seedling.

A silent exchange formed between him and the vegetable seedlings.

He watched them grow taller day by day, their leaves grow larger and thicker, and their crystalline green grow increasingly rich. His heart filled with indescribable joy and satisfaction.

This joy was more enduring and solid than successfully hunting a Demonic Beast or firing a piece of pottery. Because this was the continuation of life, the embodiment of hope.

He even began imagining what it would taste like when the seedlings matured and could be picked and eaten. It would not merely be an addition to his food supply, but the sweetest reward for all his effort and perseverance.

It meant that he had taken another major step toward truly establishing himself in this world.

The vitality in the garden formed a stark contrast with the still-dangerous and deathly silent Primordial Wilderness beyond the courtyard walls.

This small, carefully tended oasis was not merely a vegetable garden. It was also the spiritual fortress Chen An had built in this desperate land, and a beacon of hope for the future.

Looking at the flourishing vegetable seedlings nourished by the spiritual energy of the Primordial Wilderness, Chen An knew that no matter how many hardships and dangers lay ahead, as long as he protected this small patch of green, he would never lose his direction or strength.

(End of Chapter Twenty-Five)