Jing Chun paid no attention to the mockery from the villagers who had not accepted the reforms, but Guan Tao and the others felt miserable, as if they had truly done something wrong. After all, they themselves had no confidence in the Han Tribe's farming methods.
Having farmed the land for over a hundred years, they understood that planting too densely would only end in a harvest of not a single grain. On top of that, they had to use two or three times more seeds than other people. Seeds were food too. If the crops failed to sprout or the harvest turned out poor, they would be in dire straits.
Especially three days after Jing Chun and Guan Tao finished sowing, the fields of the unreformed villagers who had planted earlier had already begun to sprout. Little green seedlings poked through the earth one after another, while there was not a thing in Guan Tao's fields. With that contrast, and the others' mockery piled on top, even those who supported Guan Tao could no longer stand it. They went to him one after another to offer their opinions, suggesting that they dig some of the seeds back out of the soil. Even if the seeds were wasted, it would be fine so long as they did not end up with a harvest of not a single grain.
Guan Tao was caught between a rock and a hard place. When you heard certain things often enough, they somehow began to sound reasonable. He had even started to wonder whether Jing Chun had insisted on planting so many seeds per mu because he truly believed that planting more would make more grow, allowing them to defeat the others in the end.
But Jing Chun had, after all, been sent by the