Chương 71: Reborn as the Dragon — Chapter 71 - Pastoral Scenery

There had to be a way to cure Anna's illness. Under the current conditions, he could only work through the options one by one. Whether the Intermediate Insight Technique, or something even higher, could actually identify Anna's problem and point to a solution, that was still just Su Nian's guess. If he dumped a massive amount of system points into it and still came up empty, that would be catastrophic. Because the Insight Technique didn't build strength.

He might end up without even enough power to carry Anna across the sea. Upgrading the Insight Technique was a last resort. A measure of desperation. But one thing was beyond doubt: he had to harvest these Sakura Island players as fast as possible. No hesitation. No mercy. Keep the obedient ones. Let them plant potatoes. The rest? Block them off and kill them. Every last one. Su Nian held Anna against his chest, her small, soft weight settled in his arms.

His chin rested lightly against the top of her head, shifting in slow, absent strokes as his thoughts churned. The Dragon's Nest grew quiet. Only the faint sigh of the wind remained. One dragon, one elf, neither spoke. Their minds were elsewhere, occupied with entirely different things. But they shared the stillness together, and that was enough. Outside, the sun slipped toward the horizon. Dusk reeled in its long, thought-tangled threads.

The dark red pupil of the dying sun gazed down upon the earth, and its crimson light caught in the Black Dragon's pale gold eyes, kindling a thin, cold gleam edged with killing intent....

"By the Emperor, I have never seen a potato that big in my life! Truly astonishing!" Jingtian Kami cradled a potato the size of a car tire, his face a portrait of shock and total bewilderment. But he was, after all, a man whose ancestors for eighteen generations had farmed potatoes. It showed. The way his hands moved across the skin of the thing, the way his eyes traced its shape with genuine appreciation, it all radiated one word: professional.

"This. Potato. You. Can. Plant?" Grey Wolf held Jingtian Kami up by the scruff of his collar, dangling him like a gas canister.

"Of course we can," Jingtian Kami said, completely confident about this. He turned the potato over carefully, examining its roots, stems, and leaves. Aside from the absurd size, this game-world potato was no different from what grew back on Blue Star. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Then. Good. You teach. Them plant!" Grey Wolf set him back on the ground, flicked a claw, and barked an order at the Gnolls. They immediately began herding the human players toward the wasteland.

"Great Gnoll Lord." Jingtian Kami looked up at Grey Wolf with an uncomfortable expression.

"I know how to plant this potato. But I'll still need proper farmland to work with."

"Farm. Land?" Grey Wolf turned his head and fixed one eye on him. Clearing wasteland required tools. But the Black Dragon master had been explicit: do not give the humans hoes or anything like them. Give them tools and they'll kill themselves with them. Isn't living better than dying? Why would you kill yourself? Grey Wolf genuinely didn't understand. But he would follow the Black Dragon master's orders without question. He looked down at Jingtian Kami and delivered his verdict in a flat, merciless tone.

"No farmland. Then reclaim."

"But, Great Gnoll Lord — we have no farming tools. How are we supposed to till the earth?" Jingtian Kami stared up at him, completely at a loss. Grey Wolf bared his jagged maw in something that might have been a grin.

"You. Have. Hands." Then, in case that wasn't clear enough, he added the incentive:"Don't. Make. Demands. Or else. Eat. Shit." A short while later, in the last warm light of the setting sun. Roughly a hundred Sakura Island players were hard at work in the experimental field near the Dragon's Nest. Some were on their hands and knees, clawing at the dirt with fingers and toes.

Others were casting Water Ball spells to soften the dry, cracked earth, and when their mana ran dry, they trudged to the nearby stream with buckets.

"Boss." A blonde kid, face smeared with mud and sweat, exhausted, starving, stared at nothing.

"I want to go home."

"Ugh... find a chance... ugh... to off ourselves... if we don't farm we... we have to eat ugh... eat sh — blergh..." Yamamoto Nanjiro kept digging even as he dry-heaved between words. He had nothing left to bring up. His stomach knew that too. It didn't care, it kept spasming anyway. Four or five other players were in the same state. The ones who'd been fed the Tyrant Stink Bug's shit pellets during interrogation, plus the ones who'd tried to fight back or run. The monsters had no intention of eating them.

But they weren't going to let them die either. Guards watched them while they planted. Guards followed them to the toilet. Guards shadowed them to the stream. If someone showed suicidal intent and succeeded, well, that was that. If they failed, it was shit pellet time. Under the crushing authority of the shit pellets, the Sakura Island players had no choice but to keep their heads down and dig. They looked, honestly, like early humans who had yet to discover the concept of tools.

The Gnolls ringed the perimeter of the field in a watchful circle, not taking their eyes off the workers for a second. Blazing Rabbit patrol units swept through the surrounding area in rotating shifts. It was dinnertime. The dedicated Kobold chef — wearing a freshly starched chef's hat, looking very serious about the whole thing, trundled out a simple wooden cart. Inside sat a generous pot of potato stew with mutton, rich and fragrant and steaming. The Gnolls formed an orderly queue. Each one held a wooden bowl.

Each one received a heaping serving. The Blazing Rabbits had their own menu: fresh radish soup and sweet cabbage leaves, served on the side. The monsters settled in together at the edge of the field, eating their meals in comfortable companionship, watching the humans labor, pointing things out to each other, murmuring commentary. In the warm amber glow of the setting sun, the whole scene was peaceful. Almost lovely.

If a wandering bard happened to pass by at that moment, he would surely set it to music, singing far and wide of this thriving, idyllic pastoral life. ➤ Next: The Dragon-Subjugation Army Has Arrived