Increasing yields was a routine topic, since the output of many food crops was still insufficient.
Mutation, however, was another matter.
Regardless of their school or faction, everyone liked plants and animals that had inexplicably mutated.
And mutation was never inherently a matter of becoming stronger or weaker.
It was not the genes that were strong, but the people.
Nor was it the genes that were weak, but the people.
For instance, through mutation and selection, some crops had developed a "short stature" trait.
Yet that short stature was precisely what suited them to surviving in windy places, offering some resistance to lodging. After all, tall trees caught the wind.
Some plants and animals required large amounts of salt to survive, making them perfectly suited to saline-alkaline environments.
Thus, if certain mutations could be reliably passed down, the right uses for them might eventually be found.
Lin Ke's poison-path doppelganger walked straight to the orchard hill he had purchased earlier.
This was the site he had chosen for his breeding farm.
The research base had been placed behind the university, while the breeding farm lay in another direction.
Originally, he had thought it would be better to have the two sites closer together.
After all, the university would handle pure theory, the research base would turn theory into practical applications, and the breeding farm would put them straight into production-a standard production-line process.
Of course, "breeding farm" was merely a label.
Most people in the Great Wei Sacred Dynasty were still struggling along the line of subsistence, unable to afford meat at every meal.
They were unlike the people in his previous life, who complained about poor-quality meat, pesticides, or animals being raised on feed.
Having anything to eat was already good enough. Eating meant staying alive; whether it was