Warhammer Survival Guide

Chapter 130 Sowing

At this point, Buck spat disdainfully onto the cracked earth: "And what happened? These bastards took the money, then turned around and exchanged it for cheap hallucinogens from the black market. They did a terrible job, barely turning the soil half a meter deep. What a rip-off!"

"When Case found out, he was so angry that he smashed a cup in his office, his whole body shaking with rage, but he didn't dare to utter a single word."

"He was afraid of offending Kruger, and even more afraid that these people would actually quit and go on strike."

"If the farming season is missed and the tithe is not paid, the bigwigs above will consider it too lenient to demote him to a servant."

"Therefore, he could only swallow his anger and keep quiet, swallowing his anger."

Buck looked at Rowe again, his eyes now filled with a newfound respect.

In this cutthroat world, fists alone are not enough, nor is money alone.

"You're really something. One document can crush people, and a pack of cigarettes is a gesture of respect. You've got these troublemakers completely under your thumb, and they even have to be grateful to you."

Lowe did not show any smugness because of Buck's compliment.

He gazed at the churning black earth in the distance and said calmly, "The reason Case was tricked was not only because of his weakness, but also because he didn't understand."

"He didn't know the metal fatigue limit of the plow blades; nor did he know the fuel consumption standards for deep tillage machines."

"In this industrial world, ignorance is the greatest weakness."

Rowe withdrew his gaze, patted Buck on the shoulder, and walked towards the other side of the camp.

"Let's go, Buck. Turning the soil is just the beginning. If we don't solve the acidity problem, no matter how deep we turn, we're just digging graves for the seeds."

O

The first step is complete.

But that's not enough.

Even with deep tilling, acidic soil can still kill fragile seedlings.

We arrived at the mixing station on the other side of the camp.

There, old John was leading a group of workers in their busy work.

Several giant metal tanks stood on the open ground, with thick pipes connected to the bottom of the tanks.

Rowe went to a mixing tank and checked the pressure gauge and thermometer on it.

"Sir!" Old John rushed over, sweating profusely, holding a test strip in his hand. "The first batch of neutralizing agent is ready."

Here, take a look.

Luo Wei took the test strip.

The test strip showed a faint blue color.

"pH 7.2." Luo Wei nodded. "Meets the standard."

This neutralizing agent is a formula carefully designed by Lowell.

Its main component is purified water supplied by the southern grain depot.

It contains a large amount of quicklime powder.

There is also organic waste liquid that has undergone fermentation treatment.

Those organic waste liquids, from the sewers of Nest City and byproducts of Bill's slaughterhouse, are rich in nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium.

However, the smell was nauseating.

"How's the injection system debugging going?" Luo Wei asked.

"It's already installed on the deep tillage machine."

Old John pointed to the deep tillage machine operating in the distance.

"We installed high-pressure nozzles behind the plow blades. As the machine turns the soil, the neutralizing agent is sprayed directly into the soil layer at a depth of 1.2 meters."

This is the "deep fertilization method" designed by Luo Wei based on his past life experience.

If the traditional spraying method is used, the precious purifying water and neutralizing agent can only act on the ground surface and will be lost in large quantities due to evaporation.

By modifying the deep tillage machine, liquid can be injected directly into the deep soil where the roots are located.

It can not only reduce evaporation loss.

It can also more effectively neutralize the acidity of deep soil, creating a suitable microenvironment for crop roots.

Luo Wei walked over to a deep-drying machine that was being refueled.

He saw the murky, grayish-white liquid being injected into the machine's storage tank through pipes.

This slurry looks filthy and somewhat disgusting.

However, in Rowe's eyes, this was an alchemical potion that could bring the land back to life.

Luo Wei instructed the workers responsible for adding the fuel: "Remember, the injection volume per acre must be strictly controlled at 150 liters. More is wasteful, less is ineffective. Keep a close eye on the flow meter."

The worker nodded vigorously.

Luo Wei watched the deep tiller set off again.

The plow turned over the soil, and white mist rose from the turned-over soil.

This is the heat generated by the reaction between quicklime and acidic soil.

This reaction releases heat, killing some insect eggs and pathogens in the soil, while neutralizing acidity.

After inspecting the mixing plant, Luo Wei headed towards the sowing area.

Tens of thousands of laborers huddled together there in a dark, huddled mass.

After absorbing refugees and slaves, the population of the entire eastern granary barely remained at around 120,000.

But the sight of the procession before him made Luo Wei frown.

This doesn't resemble a production team at all.

The workforce, which should be dominated by young and middle-aged men, is now mixed with a large number of elderly people and women who should not be on the front lines.

Regardless of age or gender, everyone had a sallow complexion and hunched over.

The sounds of coughing and wheezing echoed continuously in the air, rising and falling.

Luo Wei knew the reason.

This can be considered one of the most disgusting "local specialties" of the Fengrao No. 2 variety:

At the beginning of each season, during the busy farming season, those plague believers lurking in the shadows become active like rats in the gutter, quietly spreading poison throughout the planet.

This periodic sabotage directly led to the recent outbreak of an epidemic at the grassroots level.

Many strong laborers who should have been standing here are now collapsed in the camp, their fate unknown.

These elderly, weak, sick, and disabled people are probably the last manpower that the granary can muster when its workforce is on the verge of collapse.

Previously, sowing was a chaotic "human wave tactic".

Everyone rushed forward.

Some people were digging holes, some were sowing seeds, and some were filling in the soil, but there was no method to it, and the efficiency was low.

At the same time, there is a serious waste of seeds.

Lowe could not tolerate this chaos.

Therefore, he reformed the planting process this time.

He climbed to a high mound of earth, which made it easier to observe the crowd.

The crowd was divided into hundreds of neat small squares.

This is the "assembly line production team" promoted by Lo Wei.

He abolished the traditional "contract system" and broke down the complex sowing process into four single actions:

Clear away the stones and drill holes at designated points;

Sow the seeds, cover them with soil, and compact the soil.

Each worker only needs to repeat one action.

An old man with a hunched back walked at the front. He bent down, picked up a large stone from the embankment, and threw it aside.

Immediately afterwards, a woman used a graduated iron rod to press small, evenly sized holes into the soft soil with a fixed-distance hole punch.

The third person, and also the most crucial one.

It is usually a nimble young woman.

She had a seed bag hanging from her waist, and with nimble fingers, she picked up two seeds and accurately dropped them into the small pit.

Finally, a slightly stronger boy kicked the soil back into the pit with his foot and then tamped it down.

The whole process operates like a machine.

There were no unnecessary movements, no conversation.

Perfectly fitted.

Susan, accompanied by her widows' group, patrolled the fields.

These once frail widows now wear uniform gray dresses and armbands.

They were holding counters and record boards.

Susan walked up to a group of workers, stopped, and said to the woman in charge of sowing, "You missed three holes in this row. You put three seeds in two of those holes. Not one more, not one less."

The woman was so startled that her hand trembled, and she almost spilled the seeds on the ground.

Susan, expressionless, raised her notepad and drew a heavy line on it.

"One violation will be recorded. Three violations will result in your entire group being disqualified from receiving any red votes today."

Hearing that it would implicate the entire group, the woman turned pale with fright.

The surrounding team members also cast stern glances at her, and she immediately quickened her pace, becoming even more focused and daring not to slack off in the slightest.

Luo Wei nodded slightly as he watched this scene.

In this hungry world, food is a more effective means of control than whips.

He established a strict reward and punishment system, which he called the "Red Ticket Rule".

Each group has a basic quota.

If a group can complete the task within the specified time.

Furthermore, the seed loss rate is less than 0.5%.

Then the group leader and group members will both receive a red meal ticket.

With this ticket, the entire group can receive a fist-sized piece of synthetic meat at dinner.

This is no ordinary ration.

This is the spoils of war that Buck's defense squad, along with the "Special Waste Recycling Team" composed of death row inmates, risked their lives to hunt plague-infested giant rats and mutated cockroaches in the wild.

After being sterilized at high temperatures and simply processed, the meat has a coarse texture and a slightly earthy taste, but it is still real animal protein.

A fist-sized piece of meat is thrown into the group's soup pot, and each person gets a bowl, perhaps only enough for a sip of the oily broth and a thin strip of meat.

However, for these laborers who had been eating only liquid corpse starch for years, that sip of meat broth was an irresistible delicacy.

For that sip of soup, that shred of meat, they would spontaneously supervise and cooperate with each other to make every action perfect.

Luo Wei walked down the mound and came to the edge of the field.

He saw a group of people who had just finished sowing a row of seeds.

They were panting and covered in sweat.

His eyes, however, were filled with a longing for food and an anticipation of completing the task.

Susan walked over to Luo Wei, handed him a data sheet, and reported, "Supervisor, the current progress is 15 percent ahead of schedule. The seed loss rate is kept below 0.3 percent."

Luo Wei took the order and glanced at the numbers on it.

These figures represent efficiency and cost control.

"Very good," Rowe affirmed. "Tell everyone, there will be an extra meal tonight. All teams that meet their targets will receive an extra mutated cockroach leg and a rat tail."

Susan nodded and turned to relay the order.

Night falls.

The wasteland gradually became cold and dark.

One hundred and fifty deep tillage machines turned on their high-powered searchlights, and beams of white light pierced the night sky, illuminating the farmland.

In order to complete the sowing before the acid rain season arrives.

In order to maximize the use of these expensive deep-tillage machines, Loewe ordered a two-shift system, with machines running continuously even when people were resting.

The roar of machinery echoed through the night.

Loewe did not rest.

He sat in a makeshift command tent by the field, with several screens in front of him.

The screen displays real-time progress bars for each area.

In Zone C1, deep plowing is 80% complete and sowing is 40% complete.

In Zone C2, deep tillage completion rate is 75%, and sowing completion rate is 35%.

Every percentage point of growth means that tons of grain will be guaranteed for the future.

At this moment, the tent flap was lifted.

A low-ranking servant sent by Father Beta of the Agricultural Sanctuary entered.

This servant's body is half mechanical, and it holds a brass holy water jug ​​in its hand.

The machine servant emitted a synthesized voice: "Praise be to the god of all machines. According to the ritual, the land must be blessed."

Luo Wei stood up and straightened his collar.

"Let's go."

He led his servants out of the tent and came to a patch of land that had just been sown.

The servant opened the lid of the holy water jug.

He was reciting an obscure and difficult binary prayer.

They poured the liquid inside onto the ground.

It wasn't some magical potion.

It is actually a lubricant containing trace amounts of rare metal solution, symbolizing the mechanical religion's recognition of the land.

Lowe observed this scene quietly.

Although he was not a follower of Om Messiah, he respected the ritual.

Because of the sense of ritual, people can have a false sense of security.

After the ceremony, Luo Wei squatted down and grabbed a handful of soil from his feet.

The soil, after being deeply tilled and neutralized, feels soft to the touch and exudes a slight warmth.

The color is still grayish, but it's no longer the color of bone ash.

He brushed away the topsoil and saw a golden type IV wheat seed buried underneath.

The seed lies quietly in the darkness, waiting to sprout.

It has no mutated genes, no subspace contamination, and no unspeakable secrets.

It is just the most ordinary, genetically optimized grain seed.

All it needs is water, fertilizer, sunlight, and careful care.

Luo Wei released his grip, allowing the soil to cover the seeds again.

This is his core base.

Without the exorbitant profits of Gray Mule No. 1 and the eeriness of the A3 test field, he felt more at ease than ever before.

These wheat seedlings that are about to sprout will be the foundation upon which he stands in this cruel world.

Every grain they produce is clean and pure.

It can withstand the scrutiny of any auditor and the prying eyes of any force.

Luo Wei stood up and patted the dirt off his hands.

The deep tillage machines in the distance were still roaring, and the shouts of the laborers rose and fell.

He glanced at the brass pocket watch.

There are still four hours until dawn.

"Go make some coffee, make it strong," Rowe said to Buck beside him, while asking in a cold voice, "Is everything arranged?"

"Boss, as you ordered, the first and second companies of the defense force have deployed a fan-shaped patrol line, covering the entire area."

The planting area was completely surrounded.

Buck examined the laser rifle in his hand, a fierce glint in his single eye.

"That 'recycling team' made up of death row inmates was at the forefront."

"I gave them double the hallucinogens and Molotov cocktails, and told them that if they didn't want to die, they should be burned to death."

Lovi nodded, his gaze fixed on the depths of the dark wasteland.

There, in the once quiet darkness, countless twin green lights began to appear.

They are pairs of eyes.

Greed, madness, and a pervasive stench of decay.

In Plenty II, the birth of any "pure" life is an irresistible temptation and a provocation that must be profaned by anything lurking in the underground gutter.

The faint life force emanating from Terra's acid-resistant wheat-IV seeds is an absolute delicacy for starving plague creatures.

"They're here!"