Transplanting
As the knife fell, Lu Heng realized that the trouble with this job wasn't the hardness, but the toughness.
The moment the blade entered the old vine, it encountered almost no resistance. The knife's sharpness was undeniable; no matter how tightly the fibers were twisted, they couldn't stop the blade from pushing downwards. With one cut, the wrist only paused slightly, as if cutting into a thick layer of old leather.
A layer of milky white liquid suddenly seeped from the cut, and the fishy, bitter smell wafted on the wind, making his nostrils tingle. A few drops of the liquid splashed onto the blade, hissed, and a wisp of very faint white smoke rose.
He flicked his wrist, shaking off the juice, and then made the second cut.
Needless to say, the tender shoots beside them were swept away by the wind and snapped cleanly in half. The broken vines cracked against the fence and slid down to the muddy ground.
The barbs scraped against the blade, making a soft, rustling sound. A few times, they grazed the back of his hand, leaving several white, stinging marks.
The broken vines fell piece by piece, hitting the muddy ground at their feet with a series of dull thuds.
The Bone Demon wasn't idle. It circled around to the outside of the fence, hooked its claws on a fallen broken vine, and dragged it to the side. It was clearly struggling to drag it—the broken vine didn't look thick, but it was unusually heavy. Dragging a bundle of it, it plowed two shallow furrows in the muddy ground. It groaned softly, its claws digging deeper, and with each drag, it quickly cleared a space at its feet.
Lu Heng remained silent, continuing to slash with his sword.
By the time his arm started to ache, he had finished chopping the first section on the right side of the gate. He paused, took a breath, and used the back of his knife to pry open a piece of broken vine wrapped around the railing. Tiny beads of blood seeped from the white mark on the back of his hand; he glanced at it but ignored it.
Look down at the root collar.
The section of old vine close to the soil was still there, the cut clean, and the sap slowly congealing. The roots were undamaged.
He straightened up and stretched his wrists. The wind blew up from below the cliff, and without the vines to block it, it hit his face directly, feeling chilly.
He glanced at the remaining vine surface; there were still more than twenty meters left.
"Continue."
The Bone Demon tapped the ground with its tail, and its claws hooked onto a bundle of broken vines.
Lu Heng gripped the knife tightly again and walked to the next section of the fence.
When you cut the third section, the vine's reaction changes.
At first, it just instinctively curled up—the blade cut in, and the vine retracted as if it had been burned. He didn't stop, cutting again and again.
As the amount of vines felled increased and reached the main vine area, the entire vine wall suddenly tightened.
The thorns at the tips of the vines stood erect, taut like a fully drawn bowstring. The next second, several vines suddenly shot out in his direction, creating a whooshing sound, and almost hit him directly in the face.
He stepped aside, holding the knife horizontally in front of his chest, staring at the vines.
The vine trembled violently, emitting a low hum, its body radiating intense plant emotions of anger, confusion, and resistance. It was extremely aggressive, yet it stopped abruptly half a foot away from him.
Contractual binding.
The rules bind it tightly, preventing it from turning against its master.
Lu Heng saw this and knew there was nothing he could do.
With natural disasters looming and Insect Plague threatening the plant, pruning and relocation are the only options available.
He sheathed his knife and waited for the vines to loosen before continuing his work.
This time, the vines only trembled slightly and did not attack again.
After cutting away most of the surface layer, he stopped and assessed the situation.
The remaining main root is intact and buried in the soil, motionless.
Lu Heng judged that the remaining main trunk, along with its massive root system, could be moved as a whole.
The Shelter has ample space in the Planting Room, which can fully accommodate the complete main vine.
He put away his knife, squatted down, and used his hands to dig away the soil around the roots.
"Dig."
The Bone Demon stepped forward, its claws together, and carefully dug into the soil, thoroughly excavating the entire root system. It tried its best not to damage the main root throughout the process.
The root system was enormous, extremely heavy, and deeply embedded. It took the man and the demon nearly half an hour to completely dig out the main root.
Lu Heng and the Bone Demon carried the entire Blood-Devouring Vine into the Shelter's Planting Room.
The moment it entered the Planting Room, the restless, angry, and tense emotions of the Blood-Devouring Vine vanished instantly.
The stable environment and gentle starlight energy in the Planting Room completely attracted the vines. With the suppression of the Star Lotus next to them, the Blood-Devouring Vine became completely docile, taking root in the soil and remaining motionless, fully tamed.
Lu Heng was somewhat surprised to see this; he hadn't expected it.
The hierarchy among plants is even more rigid and straightforward than that among humans.
He turned and returned to the fenced-off area.
The ground was littered with felled Blood-Devouring Vine Vines, their tough trunks, and sharp thorns.
He squatted down and touched it; it felt hard and extremely tough, making it highly practical.
Lu Heng didn't waste any of it; he collected it all and stored it in the Wristband's Storage Space, reserving it for future production and materials.
After dealing with the vine issue, he planned to replenish his stock of live aquatic products.
Catch some big fish in the pond and stock up in advance to prepare for a natural disaster in half a month.
No fishing hooks or gear are needed, and there's no complicated preparation required.
Lu Heng headed straight for a nearby river and summoned Mutant King Cobra into the water.
The river is wide and the current is calm.
The King Cobra submerged in the water, its body nimbly darting across the bottom to search for schools of fish.
The King Cobra submerged in the water, its body nimbly darting across the bottom to search for schools of fish.
The moment he entered the water, Lu Heng's senses also sank.
Cold, heavy sand and decaying leaf fragments slid past the edge of his senses. Water pressed in from all directions, enveloping that fragment of consciousness and pushing it to one side. As the snake's body swayed, he felt this sluggishness for the first time—on land, the snake's body lay flat on the ground, each scale bearing weight, exerting force, contracting, and launching cleanly and efficiently. But in the deep waters of this river, the force he exerted was mostly dissipated by the current; as his torso swayed, his body slid half a foot to the side.
The water pressure rolled in layer by layer, sinking deeper and deeper, making the sensation feel tight and the touch felt muffled.
The direction is drifting.
He tried to tilt the snake's head to the left, but the snake's tail drew an empty arc in the water, and the whole snake darted out sideways, its back scraping against a stone on the riverbed—slippery, cool, and heavy, all of which crawled back into his mind through his senses.
Lu Heng paused for a moment, hovering on the other end of the perception, to recalibrate.
Slow down. Don't use the same force you would use on land.
He gradually expanded his senses, adapting to the direction of the water flow, and swaying his tail with the current instead of struggling against it. The snake slowly stabilized, swimming forward close to the riverbed, its belly scales brushing against the pebbles and driftwood on the bottom, one stroke at a time.
The river was too wide; the forest on the opposite bank stretched out as a dark line. The underwater space was three-dimensional; the fish weren't underfoot, but in the depths, in the middle of the river, where the undercurrents met the gentle currents. The water was clear near the bank, but ten meters out, it turned dark and murky.
Found it.
In a slow-flowing layer deep within the river bend, plump fish huddled together, their tails thrashing and churning the surrounding water. These migrating fish, fat and robust, had scales that shimmered with a dark bluish light in the water.
Lu Heng locked the largest one.
The snake's body crept past from the side and below—then, without moving a finger, the commands in his mind slid into the hunting process he had practiced countless times. The body coiled, tightening. He skillfully tightened, one circle, two circles, feeling the prey struggle and weaken in the constriction. The snake's head moved forward, its mouth opened, Poison Fang accurately bit into the back of the fish's gills.
Poisoning.
The fish suddenly straightened its body and then remained still.
In Lu Heng's perception, the fish went from struggling to going limp in a process that was incredibly fast.
He paused for a moment, stunned.
Then it dawned on him—he wanted it alive.
It wasn't murder.
Lu Heng stood on the rocks on the bank, looking across the wide river at the limp fish in his mind's eye, and didn't move for a moment.
Habits can be deadly.
Previously, when he released the King Snake, it preyed on the shore—mutant beasts, Zombie, and creatures twice the thickness of a snake's body. The process of strangling, injecting venom, waiting for the prey to stop moving, and then dragging it back was ingrained in his operating habits, flowing as smoothly as breathing, requiring no conscious thought.
But that's land. That's killing.
This is water. This is being captured alive.