Farming Life Starting in Africa

When the heat finally disappeared, Rosen found his heartbeat had slowed down. He tried moving his fingers again and felt as if each joint had been coated with the best lubricant.

He wanted to try and see if he could pick the golden fruit.

His consciousness touched it again. This time it was different; the fruit transformed directly into a scalding torrent, rushing into the depths of his mind with a "boom," as if something had forcibly welded it to his consciousness.

The feeling was both painful and pleasurable, with endorphins and dopamine surging out at the same time. The pain made him want to curse, while the pleasure made him want to laugh.

When the initial shock finally subsided, Rosen was panting heavily, his back drenched in sweat. He wiped his face and then discovered something new in his consciousness: a capsule space. It had sixty cubic meters, roughly the capacity of a large storage room.

Inside the space was a silver-gray platform with a cold, gleaming surface, its design exactly the same as the one he'd seen in *Spider-Man: No Way Back*. It was the same all-purpose platform Iron Man used to create Peter Parker's suit.

Damn, this isn't scientific.

But then he thought, "We've already traveled through time, so what's the point of talking about science?"

He started fiddling with the platform like a curious little kid.

The platform is very powerful; it can scan blueprints, break down raw materials into their most basic molecules, and then reassemble them into the desired parts according to the blueprints.

In the movie, Spider-Man used this platform to design his suit, and he could easily create nanotechnology and web-shooting devices.

This feature made Rosen extremely eager to acquire it, and his first thought was to first amass a nuclear missile. This would perfectly solve his fear of insufficient firepower.

The problem is that Lawson's platform doesn't have any schematics or diagrams. It's completely bare, without even a pre-installed app.

There are indeed methods for making nuclear bombs online, but what about the blueprints for the equipment? No expert has publicly shared them!

So Rosen's real situation is that he can throw scrap metal into the platform, and the platform can recycle, sort, and reassemble these materials into new things.

But if he wants to create something new, he has to draw the blueprints himself, set the parameters himself, and become the "operating system" himself.

To put it bluntly, this is a high-end version of a "recycling station + 3D printer", only it's many levels more advanced than his old, secondhand lathe.

But based on that alone, Rosen has already made a name for himself in this land.

After abandoning his idea of ​​pulling off a big heist and bringing Miss Qiu into the picture, he took on the job of a scrap yard owner.

Anyway, in Africa, there's not much else, but there's a lot of junk. Those black guys collect scrap metal, broken car parts, half-disassembled motors and wires, gears with broken shafts from all over the place... and pile them up like small mountains.

Lawson can exchange a little bit of food and daily necessities for a whole lot in return.

He throws these scraps into the platform, which automatically sorts, refines, and reassembles them, producing all sorts of parts and tools for him. He then uses these parts to modify cars, repair machines, and occasionally take on some less-than-legal work.

In fact, his actions are not legal in China. What good person would install a full set of bulletproof and mine-proof armor on a pickup truck? That engine displacement doesn't even meet the National I emission standard, let alone the National V standard.

As time went on, people within a radius of hundreds of miles knew that there was a young Chinese man in Uller who was a mechanical genius who could fix and modify anything.

As for his remaining four fruits, Rosen observed them for two years and figured out some tricks of the trade.

Although the four fruits were as transparent as glass, they actually needed to be "charged," and the source of that energy was his own body.

This energy cannot be the kind that stimulates through electric shocks, radiation, or nuclear energy; none of those will work.

Don't ask him how he knows. He once tried to electrocute himself with a battery, and ended up convulsing on the ground for ten minutes. The tree in his brain didn't react at all, but he did smell the aroma of barbecue.

He's experienced the kind of pleasure that Teacher Yang Yongxin enjoys, and he'd even use himself for a BBQ if he increased the dosage.

Finally, he discovered that the energy could only be mild biomass energy and solar energy. What the tree needed was mild, continuous energy that its body could naturally digest.

He couldn't afford to mess with something as gentle as nuclear energy. Although he could buy these radioactive things in Africa, he was afraid of mutating himself.

Therefore, Rosen needs to use his body to collect energy in order to power the fruit and make it ripen, which makes him look like a vegetable.

Based on the current progress, one of the fruits should ripen in about six months, provided he concentrates his energy supply.

Information about this kind of fruit is still a blind box for him; he has no idea what surprise the next one will bring. Hopefully, it won't return the tumor to him.

Besides the all-powerful platform and capsule space, it wasn't without its advantages. That initial surge of heat completely transformed his body from head to toe.

Although Rosen's current physical condition is still far from that of a monster like Captain America, after all, Captain America was injected with the super serum, while Rosen is at most like someone who has drunk a bowl of high-end bone broth.

But compared to the world's top athletes, they can still compete.

He can now run 5 kilometers with a 30-kilogram load in under 25 minutes, and he can barely bench press a 180-kilogram barbell. However, he needs someone to assist him with the bench press, otherwise he's afraid he'll get stuck on the barbell and scream like a chicken, which would be too funny.

His wound heals a little faster than normal, but he didn't dare to test how much faster. What good person would be willing to cut themselves just to verify such a slight improvement in healing speed?

If you don't believe me, try pricking yourself with a sewing needle. More than 90% of people wouldn't want to bleed (diabetics, please stay away; I know you get pricked all the time and are used to it).

Most importantly, his reaction speed is much faster than before. He can now aim and fire in 2 seconds.

This is extremely important for someone trying to make a living in Africa.

After the workers finished unloading the goods, Qian Bida climbed down from the front of the truck and walked around each one. He checked whether the ropes on the cargo boxes were tied tightly, whether the tarpaulins were properly covering the cargo, and whether the tire pressure was sufficient.

After confirming that everything was in order, he took out his worn-out old wallet and paid the workers one bill at a time.

"Alright, alright, let's go." Qian Bida waved to Luo Sen.

The cars started up, and the diesel engines of the three medium-sized trucks roared to life at the same time. These trucks would have been scrapped long ago in China, but in this place, as long as a vehicle can still move, it is considered not broken. The core components are just an engine, four wheels, and a roof; everything else is just decorative. They are all kept going by their engine.

These vehicles were all refurbished by Lawson. When I first got them, all the warning lights could be used as ambient lights.

Now they're all 100-ton kings. If it weren't for the bad road conditions, which would cause them to get stuck if they were loaded too much, Lawson could have converted them into civilian assembly-type trains.

Rosen's Bigfoot pickup truck led the way, followed by three other trucks lined up behind him, kicking up a cloud of yellow dust. Qian Bida sat in the passenger seat of the last truck, the window rolled down halfway, a cigarette between his fingers, squinting at the road ahead.