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Chapter 313: The Seeds of Catastrophe

  Chapter 313: The Seeds of Catastrophe

  The news of High Priest Tima's death did not cause much of a commotion in Oufu. The orcs didn't have much of an impression of this Minotaur High Priest who was about to join them. Only Loralei led all her tribespeople to see the already-decomposing bodies of High Priest Tima and the Temple Knight. Then, almost everyone forgot about this matter of neither great nor small consequence. The addition of the Minotaurs and Harpies, preparations for the upcoming battle, and the establishment of a stronghold in the Sanderfirth mountains—all these things came together, and the entire Oufu began to operate at full capacity like a giant machine. No one had the leisure or time to concern themselves with things that had already happened. Although Oufu's total population was not large—even the population of any random city in Erathia far surpassed it—the formidable abilities of the orcs, combined with the most reasonable deployment, still resulted in astonishing efficiency.

  After a day's work, Lord Bolgan felt as if he were about to fall apart. He had never felt his head so heavy, so big; he wished he could chop it off and place it on the table to give his neck and body a break. He was responsible for the most effective deployment and utilization of all of Oufu's manpower and resources, making ten parts of manpower achieve fifteen parts of effectiveness.

  Sitting in a specially made chair, with his head on the desk, Lord Bolgan, fighting his drooping eyelids, still pored over various reports and account books. All kinds of data—human resources, methods of application, time, supplies, etc.—danced and collided in his head, blending, combining tentatively, being negated, affirmed... finally combining to produce the most efficient results.

  Three oil lamps were lit on the table. Scale Ox fat made the lamp flames burn as brightly as torches, illuminating the entire room. It was already late at night. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep, but that he was reluctant to. The more detailed the calculations and the more reasonable the planning, the greater tomorrow's work efficiency could be.

  In this newly built city, struggling on the line of survival yet possessing infinite vitality and potential, there were no exhausting things like power politics. The pressure to survive left no one with the luxury to be distracted. No matter how tired he was, being able to see his efforts turn into results, to feel the same passion and drive from the orcs around him despite their different appearances, to sense this city developing and growing rapidly, like a galloping horse—his own spirit felt as if it were galloping too.

  Among the numerous reports, a small one suddenly caught Lord Bolgan's attention, causing his galloping thoughts and mindset to come to a halt. It reported that several types of weeds had appeared near the swamp fields and were spreading towards the highlands. The lizardmen in charge of the farmland said they had never seen this kind of grass in the swamp before; its reproductive ability was astonishing and its vitality extremely tenacious.

  Damn. So it has appeared. Lord Bolgan rubbed his aching temples. In fact, when he first received these improved crop seeds, the elven elder had said this situation might occur. These magic seeds were originally modified by the elves, and they were well-versed in the ways of nature, so they naturally knew the possible consequences. The elven elder had said that these magically modified crops were actually a new type of plant, and the negative effects such a thing could produce might far exceed the concept of "crops."

  Negative effects? What would be the worst-case scenario? Lord Bolgan had asked this question. His curiosity had always been great.

  The worst? If I told you it could be a continent-wide catastrophe, would you believe me? The elven elder had asked in return, though he was smiling. But the crisscrossing wrinkles on his face made it look as if he were crying.

  "Unlikely," Lord Bolgan had said, looking at the bag of seeds in his hand. Even with his rich imagination and powers of association, he still found it hard to connect this bag in his hand with such a grand term as "the destruction of a continent."

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  "At Sedros's request, we used Leaves of the World Tree to perform nature magic, maximizing the life force and reproductive ability of these crops. This is naturally a good thing for you to get food, but do you know about hybridization between plants?"

  "I know," Lord Bolgan had nodded. The books he had read covered almost everything, including agriculture.

  "If the pollen of these crops hybridizes with other plants, we don't know what kind of offspring will be produced, but they will certainly inherit that tenacious life force and reproductive ability. Through insects and wind, the spread of pollen is inevitable. If these hybridized plants reproduce in large numbers, other plants will diminish. If these plants spread to the farmlands of other parts of the continent, what they might bring is a continent-wide famine. The only consequence of famine is war."

  "Furthermore, there's an even more serious possibility. Because of the excessive reproduction of these plants, the nutrients in the soil are rapidly depleted, grasslands turn into deserts, and this could lead to regional climate change. Next, more anomalies might occur. For example, if the Lizard Marsh experiences soil erosion and water loss due to these plants, the wetlands disappear, and the Donor River changes its course, do you know what the consequences would be?"

  Lord Bolgan immediately answered, "Several cities in the Donor River basin would be short of water."

  Elder Lloyd shook his head and said, "Not just several cities, but perhaps all of Ainfast would suffer from drought. Without the moisture from the marshes to resonate, the cold currents from the northwest would have no way to produce sufficient rainfall. The cold currents might even change course, and by then, the rainfall in Ainfast might drop to less than half of what it is now. And other chain reactions resulting from this could be even more numerous and severe."

  "It's that serious? But this is just a bag of seeds," Lord Bolgan had said, his mouth agape.

  The elven elder still smiled bitterly: "Nature is actually a very subtle and vast system, with its own cycles, its own way of life and death. And this bag of seeds itself is not a natural thing. Forcibly embedding this unnatural thing into this system, the impact will not be limited to the immediate surroundings, but will spread to places farther and wider..." The old elf leaned a little closer, as Lord Bolgan was still gaping, as if listening to incomprehensible gibberish. "My lord, can you understand?"

  "I understand. It's like throwing a stone into a delicate, large machine, which could potentially cause the entire machine to stop."

  Elder Lloyd nodded: "Of course, it's only a possibility. After all, the power and laws of nature cannot be fully grasped by anyone; we are just a part of nature ourselves. Perhaps nothing will happen. Perhaps something will, but nature will eventually adjust itself. It's just that this adjustment process could be a catastrophe for humans and elves."

  "So, if I were to get a pot now and boil this small bag of seeds and eat them, wouldn't that be equivalent to saving the continent? Just like those legendary heroes..." Lord Bolgan looked at the bag of seeds in his hand again, imagining himself opening his mouth wide and possibly becoming the savior of the continent.

  "What? You want to try? It's certainly possible," the elven elder looked at him and smiled.

  Lord Bolgan immediately and resolutely shook his head: "I don't want to. Whether I can save the continent, I don't know, but at least I know this bag of seeds is for Oufu's survival." After thinking for a moment, he asked, "Am I being a bit shortsighted and selfish?"

  "Weren't we, who created this thing, even more shortsighted and selfish? But there was no other choice. For the elven race to survive, this was the only way," the elven elder chuckled, the wrinkles on his face deepening, making him look even older. "Who isn't selfish and shortsighted? One can certainly see far and wide, but who truly has the power to step beyond their own immediate view and live on an equal footing with all of nature? We are just a part of this nature, some animals that survive for the sake of survival. We do these things just to survive, or rather, to survive better."

  "Damn, thinking about so many things I can't figure out, in the end, I still have to do what I'm supposed to do."

  Thinking about this small report for a while, Lord Bolgan could only casually toss it aside. Now was not the time to worry about this; there were too many other things to worry about.

  Footsteps sounded, drawing nearer, and a person walked into the room.

  "General Gru, is there something I can do for you?" Lord Bolgan lifted his head from the desk and asked. He wasn't the only one working late into the night.

  Gru nodded slightly and said, "I'm setting off for the Sanderfirth mountains tomorrow. How are the arrangements for the follow-up troops and logistics on your end?"

  "Rest assured, they can definitely keep up. Lord Sedros has already told me that the mining work in the Sanderfirth mountains is the top priority. I will invest the maximum manpower and resources there as much as possible. As long as everything goes smoothly on your end, a stronghold can be established very quickly."

  "Good, then that's settled," Gru nodded.

  "I've also more or less made contact with the Tower of Fangs. As long as the mines are operational and a large quantity of magic gems are shipped back, with half of the materials as payment, they can guarantee at least one top-tier Blazing Might Shot scroll per day. For scrolls like Elemental Giant Summoning and Thunderblast Bomb, they can produce three to four per day. The elemental mages there are the most skilled and numerous on the continent, so there's no need to worry they won't be able to keep up with production. This is absolutely the fastest and largest scroll production speed in the history of the continent. Given enough time, the Church's army will be nothing but living targets." Lord Bolgan grew more and more excited as he spoke, his original fatigue completely forgotten. He grinned widely, chuckling, his expression beaming.

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