The third year of the national destiny battlefield. Dragon Kingdom drew the third chosen lord.
Zhao Mancang. Twenty-nine years old. Farmers.
There is no system. No powers. A hoe and a bag of wheat seeds.
The lords of other countries are hunting and building cities. He squatted on the ground, grabbed a handful of soil, rubbed it away, and tapped it with the tip of his tongue.
"Double saline."
The barrage is crazy.
A month later, there was an outbreak of beasts. Other lords defended themselves behind the city walls. He squatted on the edge of the territory, with three layers of plants in front of him. The herd rushed in, through the first level, through the second level. As they passed through the third level, the leader stopped. He lowered his head and sniffed. Turned around and left. The whole group of beasts turned around and disappeared at the end of the wilderness.
The barrage was quiet for a long time.
It was a kind of earth that allowed him to dig up the seeds of the previous civilization.
When the coalition forces besieged the city, he used pollen to repel the enemy and kidnapped three thousand people in exchange for food.
As eternal night falls, he grows the last harvest of all mankind in a cave illuminated by fluorescent mycelium.
Someone asked him how he could do everything?
He squatted on the field ridge and rubbed open an ear of wheat.
"I can't fight, but I can still farm."
