Chapter 75

Half an hour later, Qin Yun and Liu Wensheng arrived at the Seed Laboratory. At that moment, over three hundred researchers had already gathered, having rushed over as soon as they heard the news. After greeting everyone, Qin Yun tapped into the system sharing interface.

…

Host Name: Qin Yun

Farm Level: Intermediate (Farm area expanded to 100,000 acres)

Unlocked Permissions: My Plantation, My Ranch, Biological Laboratory, Technology Laboratory, AI Program Laboratory

Upgrade Permissions: Farm employees increased to 3,000; unlimited purchases of farm equipment (limited to agricultural scope)

System Points: 83 million

…

“Excellent!” The moment he saw the System Interface, Liu Wensheng felt an unprecedented sense of relief.

After the team’s planning, they decided to allocate the new farmland on the southern side of the farm.

Qin Yun opened the Farm Sandbox and attempted to purchase the latest farmland.

“Insufficient Host permissions. Unable to proceed.” A mechanical system voice rang out.

“Insufficient permissions?” This time it wasn’t just Liu Wensheng—everyone else was equally surprised.

Qin Yun tried twice more before finally discovering the prerequisite for purchasing land: the Host must possess Farmland Ownership.

He currently held 75,000 mu under his name, and the system’s area limit had clearly been exceeded.

“Not a problem,” Liu Wensheng said, deciding to apply to the higher-ups to allocate all the idle Uninhabited Zone land to Qin Yun.

Qin Yun closed the sandbox and turned to the second item: farm permissions.

“Do we finally get our own independent lab?” someone from the biology team exclaimed excitedly.

The farm currently had six departments: agriculture, biology, technology, and others, each further divided into smaller teams. Ever since the agriculture team had received the Seed Laboratory, the other teams had been envious of having a dedicated lab. And now… it was finally happening!

“We’re all researchers here, let’s keep calm,” Liu Wensheng said with a smile, then turned to Qin Yun.

Qin Yun clicked on [Biological Laboratory].

[Biological Laboratory]: Built on Bora Planet, equipped with the most complete biological research facilities from Bora.

Price: 2 billion Basic Points, 2 billion Starlight Points.

After reading the description, Qin Yun attempted to activate it.

“Insufficient Host points. Purchase unavailable.”

Everyone in the lab froze. Previously, the farm had unlocked areas using system cards, but this was the first pay-to-unlock zone.

Qin Yun clicked through the other areas:

My Plantation: 300 million Basic Points, 300 million Starlight Points

My Ranch: 300 million Basic Points, 300 million Starlight Points

Technology Laboratory: 2 billion…

AI Program Laboratory: 2 billion…

…

The main ways to earn farm points were:

1. Sales of farm products (1 Longxia Coin = 1 point)

2. Public interest and satisfaction metrics related to the farm

This time, unlocking areas required a combination of both types of points. For example, the [Biological Laboratory] needed 2 billion Basic Points and 2 billion Starlight Points.

“This is going to be tough,” Liu Wensheng said after reading the rules. With only 83 million points currently, they were far short—not to mention the Starlight Points.

“This is way too harsh,” other team members grumbled. After a year on the farm, they all had one opinion about the system: it was ruthless.

Reluctantly, they finished reviewing the interface and turned their attention to the final item: farm upgrades.

This upgrade included two major benefits—3,000 staff slots and unlimited equipment purchases.

“Commander Liu, our biology lab has been short on people for ages.”

“Our physics team missed out on ten slots last time—we need to make up for that!”

“The AI team is desperate for technicians!”

…

The moment the introduction ended, the research staff swarmed forward. Although the farm allowed cyclical research, due to the DEBUFF effect, non-farm researchers could only enter for three days a month. With the increase in staff capacity, research stability would improve dramatically.

“Let the planning team handle the assignments…” Liu Wensheng was nearly overwhelmed by the crowd.

Over the next two days, the farm focused on allocating staff slots and unlocking the five new zones.

Unlocking all five zones would require 6.6 billion points and 6.6 billion Starlight Points. While the regular points were relatively easy to earn, the Starlight Points were another story. After the ad blitz at the beginning of the year, Longxia’s Starlight Points had nearly saturated. Even with a second wave of campaigns, they might only gain another 500 million.

“This is not going to be easy,” Liu Wensheng muttered as he closed the file, exhausted.

Since the domestic market couldn’t meet demand, Longxia decided to export its products overseas.

After the Harma Storm, 70% of the world’s countries were no longer suitable for growing food. Most relied on tech-based agriculture and imports to sustain basic survival. As the only country in the world still capable of growing food under Acid Rain conditions, Longxia accounted for 35% of global food exports from March to May.

Longxia’s main export targets were disaster-stricken and underdeveloped nations like Cybera and Wutaner. While some developed countries were also affected, they had their own food reserves, and Longxia temporarily declined to cooperate with them.

Over the past year, in addition to seed breeding, the farm had also grown sweet potatoes and wheat. The System Granary had excellent preservation capabilities. After a year of preparation, the farm now held reserves of 200 million tons of wheat, 80 million tons of sweet potatoes, and 30 million tons of rice—enough to sustain a small country for three years.

After reviewing the farm’s reserves, the Longxia Team decided to launch Fengshan Crops globally, pricing them at 1.2 to 1.5 times the domestic rate. In addition to the price, Longxia set two hard conditions:

1. The importing country must promote Fengshan Crops through advertising.

2. Fengshan Grains must be sold domestically first.

Countries that signed binding agreements would receive priority in procurement.

After Longxia announced the terms, Guqia was the first to protest: “This is blatant trade discrimination!”

Longxia sold wheat to Cybera at 12 yuan per jin, while Fengshan wheat was priced at 20 yuan per jin.

Guqia was deeply aggrieved.

In July of the previous year, Guqia had suffered a nationwide Acid Rain disaster, with 82% of its land affected. As a food-importing nation, it immediately sought help from Natal—but that led to the globally shocking cargo ship seizure incident.

Guqia then turned to Weir and other countries to import overpriced grain, barely managing to keep its population alive.

After the Harma Storm, Longxia developed Acid Rain Seeds, which could only be cultivated within its borders.

Guqia decided to import food from Longxia. The official response from Longxia was:

1. Guqia had enough food to survive and did not need assistance for now.

2. Longxia’s food supplies were limited and needed to prioritize weaker nations.

3. If Longxia had the capacity, it would help Guqia in times of crisis.

Guqia considered hijacking Longxia’s cargo ships like Natal had done—but ultimately gave up.

Longxia was not Natal.

To ensure long-term survival, Guqia had to build a good relationship with Longxia.

Just as it was worrying about the upcoming quarter’s food supply, Longxia released a new cooperation policy with no regional restrictions. But the terms… were far from generous.

“This is unfair discrimination.”

“We demand basic price equality…”

…

Not only Guqia, but other countries like Fenli also issued complaints.

While 20 yuan was within the international baseline, compared to the aid prices offered to Cybera and others, it was still significantly higher.

Longxia didn’t argue. Instead, it issued a direct statement—

1. Fengshan Crops are R&D-based agricultural products developed by Longxia, with high cultivation costs and correspondingly higher prices.

2. Longxia engages in voluntary and equal cooperation and does not force international partnerships.

3. Fengshan Crops are part of the global edition, with a worldwide limit of 100 million tons.

4. Signing a special contract allows for certain purchasing discounts.

…………

After releasing the statement, Longxia immediately launched the Global Ordering Platform.

The global ordering system is a public platform for intergovernmental cooperation. The ordering process is: national-level order submission — Longxia review and approval. Each country is allowed only limited price variation and a maximum purchase of 3 million tons. Resale or secondary trading is strictly prohibited.

“This is an unfair partnership,” Guqia continued to denounce Longxia’s policies.

But as the condemnations continued, fewer and fewer countries responded.

Guqia opened the ordering platform. Longxia’s global orders had already reached 30 million tons. Seven countries had placed orders right away—some economically advanced, others suffering from severe disasters.

Fengshan orders were open to the entire world. Weaker nations were being ravaged by disaster. Only those who had experienced it firsthand could truly understand that in the face of a catastrophe, survival is the only path to endless possibilities.

Within just three hours of the platform going live, global orders had reached 50 million tons.

Guqia spotted a familiar name on the procurement list: Natal—1 million tons of wheat, 1 million tons of sweet potatoes…

Guqia: !!!

International orders required a 50% deposit upfront. To avoid currency disparities among nations, all transactions were settled in Longxia Coin.

Guqia immediately placed an order for 3 million tons.

“Right now, 70% of countries are suffering from food crises. We shouldn’t be scattered like grains of sand.” This time, Guqia didn’t criticize Longxia. Instead, he turned his attention to the countries that had placed orders first.

Guqia’s logic was simple: Fengshan’s prices were relatively high. If all countries refused to cooperate, the price could be forced down to match aid-level pricing. But clearly, this bloodless negotiation had already failed…

“Help! No one’s forcing you to buy. You can go buy Weir’s instead!”

“I don’t even want to sell—there’s not enough Fengshan for our own people.”

“LOL, acting like you didn’t place an order yourself.”

……

Longxia netizens, seeing Guqia’s repeated statements, couldn’t stay silent anymore. Even bubble tea shop owners do market research these days. Guqia acting clueless on the international stage? No way. Totally impossible!

Some prominent economic influencers speculated that Guqia had already obtained all the product data for Fengshan before Longxia even announced the exports.

Fengshan’s prices were only slightly higher than regular grain, on par with international rates—not nearly high enough to scare off buyers. Guqia’s move was clearly aimed at driving down Fengshan’s price and reducing Longxia’s global influence. Of course, that’s the political angle. Among netizens, the focus quickly shifted to Fengshan’s export policy.

Fengshan is Longxia’s most legendary farm. The main crops being exported this time were: wheat, sweet potatoes, and corn.

Currently, the domestic market is mainly relying on Acid Rain grain and stockpiled reserves. Some Fengshan products can be found in Longbao supermarkets, but the inventory is ridiculously low. Now that Longxia is exporting grain, it feels like someone else bought the fried chicken you were waiting for… infuriating!

“Waaah, can’t we just keep it all for ourselves instead of exporting?” Netizens were seriously reluctant to let it go.

Amid the nationwide discussion, one user suddenly pointed out something crucial: “One hundred million tons?”

“How the hell do you grow 100 million tons…”

“Assuming sweet potatoes yield 10,000 jin per mu, and three harvests a year, you’d need at least 7 million mu of land.”

“Is the Uninhabited Zone really that big?”

……

At first, no one thought much of it, but the more they talked, the stranger it seemed.

The country has 2 billion mu of arable land. Sure, 7 million mu is doable—but Fengshan is just one private farm. A single private farm producing 100 million tons of grain… that’s impossible.

Just as everyone was reeling in confusion, a travel blogger posted: “Ahhh can someone tell me—is this the Uninhabited Zone?! [Video]”

It was a ten-second clip, showing vast fields of wheat, corn, and rice. A breeze swept through, and netizens were suddenly reminded of scenes from before the floods in Longbei. It was an image etched into memory, yet now strangely unfamiliar.