Planting

Looking at the Mental Power Essence he had left, Sol ultimately couldn't resist the temptation and decided to do a five-pull first.

In his eyes, Mental Power Essence was just like money in his previous life: he simply couldn't save it. Only by expanding his sources of income could he truly become rich.

Five points of Mental Power Essence turned into specks of starlight and entered the outermost wheel. Neon-like dots of light flashed again, then abruptly stopped a moment later.

"Congratulations! You have obtained [Amber Stone] [Large Chunk of Rotten Meat] [Coral Highlands Remains] [Poisonvine] [Rusty Refined Iron Great Sword]. Withdraw them now? Yes / No."

After reading the notification that appeared before his eyes, Sol's red-scaled face darkened. Without a word, he chose to withdraw them.

Ripples shimmered through the air, and several items appeared before him.

The amber stone was, to put it plainly, a fist-sized lump of hardened resin with an unfamiliar little insect trapped inside. It gleamed orange-red all over, and perhaps it would fetch some money if sold to humans?

As for the large chunk of rotten meat, one look was enough to tell it came from the Rotten Vale. Supposedly, meat naturally aged by decay like this was a rare delicacy after special processing.

But Sol felt sick just looking at it. Only the skull-faced black dragons would like such rotten food, so he threw it out of the cave without another word.

The Coral Highlands remains were a piece of pinkish-purple coral reef nearly a meter tall. They looked quite nice, but they were just as useless to Sol.

True dragons had always favored gemstones, precious metals, and items imbued with magical energy, followed by cultural relics steeped in history. But he had never heard of one collecting coral reefs.

The poisonvine was a bundle of vines with dark green leaves covered in purple and black patterns. Its sap was highly poisonous, and it was said to be a Pukei-Pukei's favorite.

Sol figured he might be able to eat a little to strengthen the gas-breathing ability he had obtained from the Stinktoad Template.

Last was the rusty refined iron Great Sword. Nearly two meters long and wider than an adult's palm, it qualified as a massive greatsword. Rust covered the blade, and the decorative patterns on the grip and guard had long since decayed, but the blade was still straight and intact.

This was probably the most valuable item he had drawn this time.

Although true dragons rarely used weapons and hardly ever needed them, the Great Sword could be melted down and reforged to equip his followers.

"What a loss! What a loss! If I'd known, I would have traded for Dragonvein Crystals instead. Even Coal would have been fine!"

Five failed draws in a row had put Sol in a terrible mood.

He glanced at the enormous wheel in his mind and noticed a new notification at the very bottom.

"After more than 10 draws in total, you may specify a general category of item to increase your chance of drawing items in that category."

Had he triggered a ten-pull pity? But just how broad did this "general category of item" have to be?

Sol thought for a moment, silently repeated high-yield rice seeds, and tried to tap the wheel, but nothing happened.

He broadened the category to "high-yield crop seeds," but there was still no response. Only after he broadened it to "crop seeds" was one point of essence consumed, and the wheel rumbled into motion.

When the flashing light stopped, an ear of corn was unmistakably pictured in the illuminated square.

"Congratulations! You have obtained [Small Bag of Kiko Corn]. Withdraw it now? Yes / No."

"Please note: Different environments and soils may cause unknown changes to crops. Repeated harvesting and planting may lead to reversion and degeneration."

Sol chose "yes." With a flash of light, a cloth bag the size of a soccer ball fell onto his claw.

He untied the hemp rope fastened around the bag and saw that it was full of glossy, golden corn kernels. They were much smaller than ordinary kernels, only about half the size.

It was just the right season for sowing, and the gentle slope near the lake had loose, moist soil. It should make good farmland.

Sol gripped the bag tightly in his claw, spread his wings, and flew toward the Boarfolk camp with a rush of wind.

After a winter apart, his followers had not only decreased in number but also grown very thin, having used up almost all their body fat.

Sol's arrival left the Boarfolk somewhat flustered, but fortunately, his earlier show of force still held sway, and there was no trouble.

To Sol's surprise, the old Boarfolk named Kroge had also made it through the winter.

The old fellow was remarkably tenacious, and Sol couldn't help but think a little more highly of him.

As the Boarfolk waited anxiously, Sol landed on the protruding rock, raised his upper body upright, and spread his wings slightly as he roared.

"You stupid, filthy swine! I never thought you couldn't even withstand a little insignificant cold wind. You're a disgrace to the great Sol's followers!

"Trash like you has no right to go on living. You should all be burned to ashes.

"But merciful as I am, I've decided to give you one chance. Turn this patch of ground over deeply right now, break up all the soil, and pick out every stone!"

All the Boarfolk immediately sprang into action in alarm, running into the long rectangle Sol had drawn on the ground with a branch and digging away with all their might.

Wild boars naturally liked rooting in the earth and rolling in mud, so the Boarfolk were naturally good at tilling the soil too.

Their tough skin was like a pair of natural gloves, and with strength and endurance greater than an ordinary person's, they worked only a little slower without tools.

But knowing how to till the soil wasn't enough. It was only the most basic step in the entire planting process.

There was still furrowing, making raised beds, disinfecting the soil, and fertilizing, not to mention preventing pests and diseases and praying for good weather. All told, it was much harder than hunting.

After all, in faraway Africa in Sol's previous life, even in 2025, some black guys were still relying on the weather to make a living.

It wasn't because they were less intelligent than the Boarfolk. Part of the reason was the harsh environment and the severe water shortage during the dry season; another part was the lack of stable order.

A black guy might sow his seeds and tend them carefully for more than half a year, and just when he was about to harvest them, a good brother would show up at his door carrying an AK and claim the land was his.

Or, overnight, the crops would vanish before they were ripe, leaving only the whole village's footprints in the field.

After enough of that, naturally, all they could do was give up trying.

Sol didn't expect the Boarfolk to get a good harvest from these newly reclaimed fields.

That had nothing to do with the Boarfolk's farming skills. It was simply because newly reclaimed land couldn't compare to fields that had already been cultivated for two or three years.

But he had a secret weapon of his own: dragon dung.

As magical creatures, dragons absorbed most of the energy from the food they ate, but the food also picked up the unique magical power in their bodies.

Not only could it be used as a potion additive, in industrial forging, and as an alchemical material, it was also a super fertilizer.

Next, Sol would mark out an area at the foot of the mountain below the cave to serve as a private toilet for himself and the two dragon hatchlings.

The Boarfolk would collect the dragon dung produced each day and spread it over the cornfield as fertilizer.