Chapter 12: Chapter 12

“These seeds are actually quite common, so it’s okay if you don’t want them—wait, you’ve never seen them?” Muying suddenly realized what he’d said.

Seeing the girl’s eyes widen in surprise, like a startled kitten, Shaum burst out laughing. “There are words for these plants in the common tongue, of course, so I’ve heard of them. But the seeds you brought are a little different from what I know. So, to be precise, I’ve both seen them and not seen them.”

“Can I ask what the differences are?” Muying asked, curious.

“If you want to know, come with me,” Shaum said, getting up and pushing open the door at the end of the reception room.

This time, Muying could clearly see that behind the door was a lush, thriving garden.

She couldn’t help but follow him in.

“This is my plantation, made from a shattered demi-plane. Every tree and flower here was cultivated by my own hands—they’re my treasures,” Shaum said as he walked, pride written all over his face.

If Wu Yaya were here, it would definitely urge Muying to run away immediately. Old Shaum was obsessed with his plants—once he started talking about them, he couldn’t stop, even chattier than Wu Yaya.

Muying went from amazement, to envy, to a look of dawning understanding—then, pretending to understand, she just nodded along.

At first, she was genuinely interested and asked questions about things she didn’t understand. Grandpa Shaum was happy to explain, but the more he talked, the more technical he got, mixing in a ton of Druidic and Woodfolk words.

Muying realized that if she tried to understand everything, they’d never finish discussing even a single plant in a whole day. If she accidentally showed interest in one, Grandpa Shaum could go on forever—talking about its appearance, uses, cultivation process, original species, mutations, and countless variants.

She was both impressed and helpless, so she just kept her mouth shut and became a nodding machine. At last, before nightfall, they reached their destination: a rice paddy.

The field was full of rice—some tall, some short, some thick, some thin, in all sorts of colors. But judging by the grain, it was definitely rice.

“Grandpa Shaum, isn’t this rice paddy near the entrance? There’s just a patch of bamboo in between—I remember it well. I think it’s called dwarf soft bamboo. When we passed by earlier, you even broke off two bamboo shoots for me. Roundy is still gnawing on one right now.”

Shaum scratched his beard sheepishly. “Old folks like me are forgetful, haha!”

“…” Muying thought to herself, He’s got an amazing memory, actually—how else could he remember so much about plants?

“You see, these are all rice at their core, but each one is different. The rice seeds you brought yield much more than these, but they seem less stable. Their offspring probably won’t maintain such high yields.”

“You’re amazing! That’s exactly right. We call this hybrid rice…” Muying explained the basic principle of hybrid rice, just as she’d learned in her high school biology class—thankfully, the knowledge was still fresh.

Shaum was fascinated by the idea of hybridization. He squeezed every bit of biology knowledge out of her, even taking careful notes in his little notebook. But he insisted that this unstable rice couldn’t be considered a truly new variety yet, and decided to make it his next research project.

“Alright, that’s enough for now. I can’t wait to start my research. If you have time, help me collect more of these rice seeds, and other seeds or seedlings too.”

Muying stood at the entrance to Grandpa Shaum’s plantation, carrying a basket full of dwarf soft bamboo and hugging a thick book bound in bark, grumbling to herself, “That old man is a total research maniac!”

But the rewards were generous. The bamboo in her basket was a snack for Roundy, courtesy of Grandpa Shaum, and the bark-bound book was a rare first-circle spell.

The book was an advance payment—she still owed Grandpa Shaum one hundred native Deep Blue Star plants and a hundred jin of hybrid rice."

"Mu Ying returned home and immediately began studying the spellbook written in Druidic.

Although she had knowledge of the Druidic language thanks to her class, she had never really taken the time to study or use it much. Now, reading an actual book in Druidic, she found it anything but smooth.

It was as if there was a Druidic dictionary in her mind, and every time she read, she had to flip through it in her head, then piece together the meaning—sometimes even relying on context to figure out the true intent. Her reading speed was painfully slow.

She barely managed to finish the basic introduction to the spell.

It was called “Identify Plants.” Its name was similar to the Druid 1st-level spell “Detect Plants,” and its effect was somewhat alike, but “Identify Plants” was essentially an upgraded version.

“Detect Plants” could only tell you the type of plant—if you used it on a stalk of rice, you’d simply learn that it was rice.

But with “Identify Plants,” you’d also learn some of its properties. Grandpa Shaum had used this spell to discover that hybrid rice couldn’t stably pass on its traits.

It was a very useful spell, but learning it was a real challenge—the price was having to thoroughly digest the entire book, which was packed with botanical knowledge.

Mu Ying had a love-hate relationship with this spell. What she lacked most now was actually time. There were still plenty of spells in the Player’s Handbook she hadn’t learned, let alone this rare and even harder-to-learn spell.

So, she had to push it down her priority list. Improving her survival skills was the most important thing right now.

At the top of her study list was Entangle, followed by Healing Word. After that came Thorn Whip and Produce Flame.

Mu Ying put down the book, picked up a piece of pocket-sized soft bamboo, and started cooking a big pot of bamboo shoot porridge—naturally, she didn’t forget to add some Spring of Restoration water.

While the porridge was simmering, she held up her Player’s Handbook and studied Entangle.

By now, it was completely dark outside. The hoe handle, enchanted with the Light spell, glowed softly from where it stood against the wall, illuminating her small house.

Entangle was the spell Mu Ying had chosen to pair with Shillelagh. It could target a point within range and cause weeds and vines to erupt in a 20-foot square, restraining enemies. In areas with dense vegetation, its effect was even stronger.

It was a great control spell for use in the forest—trap enemies with it, then attack with a weapon enhanced by Shillelagh. It would make things much easier.

With this spell, Mu Ying would have a fighting chance even against multiple foes.

“Mu Ying—Mu Ying—”

A voice from outside snapped Mu Ying out of her spell studies. She walked to the window and looked out. At some point, a large bonfire had been built in the clearing outside Oak Tree General Store. Everyone from the camp was gathered around it. The one calling her was Cheng Wei from the Mountaineering Club.

“Mu Ying, we brought back a pig to roast! Come down and eat with us! It’s so early—why stay cooped up alone?”

Mu Ying saw that the pig was quite big—probably a domesticated meat pig. Half of it was roasting over the fire. Even Wu Yaya had come out, standing on the railing at the store entrance, a leaf in front of him with a piece of sizzling roast meat on top. Grandpa Shaum was nowhere to be seen—he was probably busy studying hybrid rice.

The atmosphere was great, as if they hadn’t been arguing earlier. Mu Ying was happy to join in the lively, harmonious scene—her porridge was just about ready, too.

She carried out a big pot of porridge, first scooping a small bowl for Yuan Gun Gun.

The moment she set the bowl down, Yuan Gun Gun scampered off her and rushed over, eagerly lapping up its long-awaited dinner.

However long Mu Ying had spent studying spells, that’s how long Yuan Gun Gun had been tormented by the aroma of bamboo shoot porridge. It could hardly wait.

“Mu Ying, your porridge smells amazing!” Cheng Wei, sitting closest, could smell it most clearly.

“Yeah, I put bamboo shoots in it. Want some?” Mu Ying offered generously. She had added Spring of Restoration water, but only a little, and its effects were slow and subtle—at most, it just made the porridge tastier and more filling.

She’d brought out a bucket of instant noodle cups she’d found in a tent earlier.

It had only been a day, but the plastic packaging was already starting to degrade. The cups inside probably wouldn’t last much longer, so Mu Ying decided to use them to share out the porridge. Building good relations with the territory’s residents was important, after all.

Cheng Wei took her cup of porridge and was amazed from the very first bite.

The other Mountaineering Club members, all around the same age, came over for a cup too, thanks to Cheng Wei’s enthusiastic recommendation.

The rest were older—mostly middle-aged folks who came to the forest park for weekend hikes. There were twenty people in total, fifteen of them men. Compared to porridge, they figured meat was more filling.

Besides, if everyone had some porridge, there’d only be about half a cup each, so they didn’t ask for any. Only a woman with a child came over to get two cups for her kid.

Wu Yaya was drawn by the smell too. “This is pocket soft bamboo shoot, isn’t it? Not bad!”

“Pocket what?” Xu Shan asked, confused. “Isn’t this just regular bamboo shoot?”

“Uh, Grandpa Shaum gave these pocket soft bamboo shoots to Yuan Gun Gun as snacks. They’re just a softer kind of bamboo shoot,” Mu Ying replied, a little sheepishly.