After dying suddenly from overwork, Lin Mo opened his eyes again. In his left hand, he clutched a bloodstained work badge; in his right, the eternal hoe gifted by the System.
Before him lay a death zone where trees with grotesque faces clawed at the air. Behind him stretched a cursed swamp teeming with rotting corpses.
“Ding!”
“Your Thunder Pea has shot down the 99th Bone Dragon.”
“Your Ironhide Potato Wall has been struck by the Corruption Legion. Current durability: +10%.”
“Ding!”
“Your Explosive Potato Mine has blasted all enemies away.”
…
When the Goddess of Abundance planted a wooden sign reading “No Fighting” in the field,
Lin Mo was busy fitting a starvation collar on the Dragon Princess, who had been sneaking popcorn.
A saintess held up rice in both hands and knelt before a new statue in praise. The Mermaid Princess traded pearls for strawberry seedlings, while the beastgirls fought over who got to water the crops…
As the farm expanded, more and more people gathered around Lin Mo: elves, merfolk, beastgirls, and dragons.
Once a corporate drone hounded by performance targets, he was now the owner of a fantasy farm where even the gods had to line up and take a number.
Another system puppet 🍉
666, Winter jumps from spring to spring
Very well written, cheers
Pretty good [laughs crookedly]
Not bad~~
It's okay 😘😘😘
Come on, come on, come on, come on