Chapter 211 - 129: Harvest

Chapter 211: Chapter 129: Harvest

However, the work wasn’t entirely over.

The day after the last batch of grain was stored, towering flames erupted from the fields surrounding Jiang City—the very fields that had just given up their harvest.

This was no disaster, but the final step of the plan—burning the straw.

Piles of wheat straw and the remaining stubble were systematically set ablaze.

The dry plant fibers erupted into a raging inferno. Tongues of fire licked at the sky as thick smoke billowed upward, forming massive pillars. A wave of heat distorted the distant scenery, accompanied by the incessant crackling of the flames.

The burning served multiple purposes. First, the intense heat would kill any pest eggs and pathogens lurking in the soil and straw, reducing risks for the next planting season. Second, the resulting ash was an excellent potassium-rich fertilizer that could be tilled back into the earth to nourish the land. But the most important reason, as explained to the public over the broadcast, was to eliminate the last remaining temptation and eradicate any lingering threats.

In the wheat fields, especially amongst the stubble, there were bound to be some scattered ears of wheat or grains that hadn’t been thoroughly collected.

This leftover grain was an irresistible temptation for birds with a keen sense of smell, especially the mutant varieties that could be drawn by the fragrance from far away.

If left alone, these scattered scraps of food could attract small flocks, whose activity and calls might then draw in even more birds from greater distances.

The birds’ social structure might have temporarily collapsed with the death of their "leader," but their individual, instinctual drive to forage remained strong. If this piecemeal attraction were allowed to persist, there was no telling when another troublesome flock might slowly begin to assemble.

It could even lead to new flocks forming outside Jiang City, ones adapted to using guerrilla tactics against humans.

Setting it all ablaze—burning away every last bit of "bait" and turning the fields into a scorched but clean slate—was the most thorough and straightforward solution.

The flames and smoke themselves also served as a powerful deterrent, driving away anything that flew.

Xu Mo stood on a small rise near the city walls, watching the wildfire-like blaze spread around him. The glow of the fire painted his face red as a hot draft carrying ash and embers washed over him. The sweet fragrance of wheat was gone, replaced by the pervasive smell of burning.

The golden harvest and the scorched earth, hope secured in the granaries and threats eradicated by fire—at this moment, the contrast could not have been starker.

This was the logic of the apocalypse: cruel and efficient, with no room for romantic fantasies. Every step toward survival was accompanied by decisive trade-offs, and sometimes, outright destruction.

Xu Mo watched the fields as the fires gradually died out, leaving behind only wisps of smoke and a blanket of embers. He knew the most harrowing Chapter of the summer had finally closed. With the greatest threat to their food security eliminated, Jiang City had once again passed a critical point in its struggle for survival.

The towering columns of smoke gradually dispersed, leaving behind nothing but scorched earth and sobering reflections.

The summer harvest was over, but the challenge of survival never truly rested.

The immense effort of the summer harvest seemed to drain the entire city of its vitality. When the last wisp of smoke from the burning fields had dissipated, and the heavy thud of the granary doors closing brought the campaign to a close, Jiang City sank into a peculiar tranquility, at once weary and content.

Pedestrians on the streets were few and far between, their gaits lazy and listless. The breakfast stalls, usually full of boisterous hawking, were quiet. One owner merely fanned himself slowly, the steam rising from his pot seeming thinner than usual, radiating an air of indifferent lethargy.

The usual clamor was absent from the teahouses and taverns. What few customers there were spoke in hushed tones, their words punctuated by yawns.

Even the patrolling soldiers and security officers, though still at their posts, had lost some of the tension in their faces, replaced by a hint of ease.

The entire Jiang City Shelter was like a machine that had been running at high speed for far too long. Having finally completed its core mission, it had throttled down, emitting a low hum as it cooled off and caught its breath.

Amidst this lethargy that had settled over the city, Xu Mo paid another visit to the Hunter’s Guild.

The mission hall, usually as noisy and crowded as a marketplace, was now considerably more deserted. The giant electronic screen still scrolled through the mission list, but the crowd of people who usually stood watching and debating fiercely had dwindled by more than half.

A few of the regular Guild staff were even huddled together, chatting in low voices and occasionally letting out easy laughter. Only a handful of Hunters who couldn’t seem to sit still were carefully scanning the bulletin board, perhaps hoping to snag an easy, well-paying mission that had been overlooked while everyone else was resting.

Xu Mo did a quick circuit and saw that the mission list hadn’t changed much.

Zombie-clearing missions were still listed, but their priority seemed to have dropped. The harvest-related tasks, like scaring off birds and patrols, had mostly been removed or marked as "Complete." A few new routine missions had been added—city facility maintenance, supply transport, and the like—but the pay was mediocre.

Clearly, after the hard-fought battle of the harvest, neither the officials nor the populace had the energy to launch any new, high-intensity operations outside the city.

Looking at the somewhat lifeless scene, Xu Mo felt a sense of listlessness and turned to leave the Guild hall.

The afternoon sun grew even more vicious, beating down blindingly on the bluestone paths and earthen-yellow walls, reflecting a harsh glare.

The air grew scorching and still, so thick with heat it felt as if a single spark could set it ablaze. The few pedestrians on the road all hurried past, their heads protected by straw hats, conical bamboo hats, or wet towels wrapped around their faces.