Calculating for a certain fellow who went among ordinary people first thing in the morning and got mistaken for a freeloader

With over a thousand mouths to feed, the Ideal Grain Seed alone would not last them until autumn.

Identifying and cooking wild vegetables would neatly fill the gap.

He was just about to leave when soft footsteps came from behind him.

A bowl was held out in front of him.

The porridge was thin and watery, with sparse grains of rice settled at the bottom and a few scraps of green leaves floating on top.

Steam rose from the bowl, and a fresh, sweet aroma wafted into his nose.

"Have something to eat first."

The voice was soft and timid.

Yang Yong looked up.

A frail little girl stood before him, wearing a light gray cloth bag against her chest, with two straps running over her shoulders to her back.

She looked at him as though he were an "ordinary survivor who had come to the kitchen looking for a bite to eat."

Yang Yong did not explain.

He took the bowl.

His fingers touched its side, warmth spreading through his fingertips.

He lowered his head and took a sip.

Savory. Sweet.

The porridge slid over his tongue with a rich texture reminiscent of century egg and lean pork congee.

He tasted it carefully... there was no meat.

That fresh sweetness was a flavor the wild vegetables themselves had developed through mutation.

He took another sip.

Warmth flowed down his esophagus.

The little girl was still standing beside him, watching him with her head tilted.

Then...

Yang Yong's hand almost moved.

The index and middle fingers of his left hand came together, muscle memory faster than thought.

The opening move of the Heavenly Dragon Slash came within a hundredth of a second of thrusting out.

Power gathered in his fingertips, the tendons inside his wrist taut as a bowstring drawn