"Three tons of guano stone... At an average usage of thirty jin per mu, their actual cultivated area is definitely well over a hundred mu, considerably larger than I anticipated."
On the return journey, Chu Guang pondered as he jotted notes in his small booklet.
"It seems my conjecture was right. They must be using soilless cultivation techniques for a portion of their crops, and that portion accounts for fifteen to thirty percent—or perhaps even more—of their total production capacity."
Brown Farm produced some manure on its own and bought a bit from other merchants, meaning their actual farmland might be even larger than he had imagined.
Before transmigrating, Chu Guang had heard of a hydroponic pipe cultivation method that maximized space and water usage. As long as the fertility was sufficient, one mu of land could yield as much as ten.
In this world's pre-war era, similar technology had seemingly existed and pushed spatial efficiency to the extreme. Disregarding energy costs, they had developed integrated skyscraper facilities that automated seeding, cultivating, ripening, harvesting, conveyor transport, packaging, and distribution, genuinely achieving yields of over a hundred million jin per mu.
They were called CNC planting towers—the ultimate manifestation of industrialized agriculture.
Utterly cyberpunk.
Brown Farm's energy resources certainly weren't that extravagant, but given that they could trade electricity for grain, power probably wasn't in short supply.
Furthermore, they had been farming for at least a century. They were bound to have inherited some technology and modified it to fit the wasteland environment.
Just then, a sudden thought struck Chu Guang.
*Could it be... they're growing some kind of energy crop?*
Brown Farm didn't just grow green wheat. From what he heard, the wheat matured quickly, and after the harvest, there was still time to squeeze in a cycle of ram horn potatoes, beans, fruits, vegetables, or other crops.
Perhaps the latter had the higher fertilizer demand?
By the late twentieth century, people had already begun using cash crops, by-products, or specially bred artificial crops to produce ethanol and biodiesel. As the technology matured, such crops were sometimes categorized specifically as "energy crops" based on their usage.
Reasonably speaking, in a pre-war world that had mastered controlled nuclear fusion, similar technology might have been even more advanced than he imagined.
However, in an era of major breakthroughs in nuclear fusion, the practical purpose of such energy crops wouldn't be to produce substitutes for fossil fuels.
They would serve as industrial raw materials.
"...Brown Farm lacks industrial capabilities of its own. Part of the cash (energy) crop it produces is used as fuel, while another part is sold to merchants from Boulder City as industrial raw materials to supply factories there."
"The product is suspected to be some form of rubber, crude oil analog, or other hydrocarbons."
"Moreover, this crop must consume a significant amount of fertilizer!"
Chu Guang penned this line in his notes.
The harvest from this trade was even greater than he had envisioned.
It wasn't just the grain and tools in the covered wagon, or the "order" for three tons of guano stone coming next spring; it was also the intelligence gathered indirectly through the transaction.
This was information he could never have obtained back when he was just a scavenger.
Once he returned, he could publish it in the setting guide on the official website for the players to study.
While Chu Guang analyzed the intelligence, the players beside him were muttering in hushed voices.
"One kilo of guano stone trades for ten kilos of food? Did I see that right?"
"You saw wrong. It's twelve kilos."
"I don't get it. Is green wheat just dirt cheap, or are the rocks we picked up by the lake worth that much?"
"Maybe both? Maybe neither... Wait, how much does the food we buy from the warehouse cost again?"
"Around one silver coin per kilo of green wheat. I know what you're getting at—we have to haul a whole kilo of guano stone back to the warehouse just to get two copper coins, right?"
"Yeah! Does that make any sense?"
"Relax. The farming system hasn't unlocked yet, but I'll bet when it does, the NPC won't pay more than one copper per kilo of green wheat. Doesn't it make sense when you think of it that way?"
"Pfft, totally reasona—like hell it is! They sell it to us for one silver a kilo!"
"Chill out. What game isn't like this? Besides, if you want to get technical, grain prices in reality fluctuate too. When the time comes, sell some to players, and whatever doesn't sell, just dump into the NPC warehouse."
At this point, the player with the ID Mole on the Run from the Canyon sighed, speaking with a look of deep regret.
"If only they unlocked a merchant trading system. Haul one kilo of guano stone to Brown Farm to trade for food, and hauling it back gets you twelve kilos of grain. Even if you dumped it on the NPC, it'd still be worth more than two copper coins! Twelve kilos—that's at least one silver, believe it or not? This game's economics are terrifying if you think too hard about it."
Although Chu Guang didn't look up or respond, he glanced sideways at the fellow and chuckled inwardly.
His reasoning wasn't wrong.
His vision was just too narrow.
If you took guano stone to Brown Farm for grain, and then took the wholesale grain to Boulder City to trade for firearms, a hundred kilos of guano could fetch five or six guns—believe it or not?
Don't worry.
Come spring next year, your great Game Manager will handle this business for you. The chips earned will serve as the base's foreign exchange reserves, and you'll get your cut.
What?
You want your wages paid in Boulder City currency?
What for? You planning to buy a house and take a wife in Boulder City?
Chu Guang didn't actually intend to "exploit" his little players. Besides, compared to the landlord of Brown Farm or Old Leech on Bet Street, this couldn't even be called exploitation.
In Chu Guang's blueprint, by the fifth generation of currency at the latest, the currency issued by Shelter 404 would supplant the chips issued by Boulder City, becoming the hardest currency across all of Qingquan City and its surrounding areas.
Suffering a little now was so everyone could enjoy the fruits together later.
"Manager, there seems to be someone ahead."
"?"
*Again?*
Stuffing the notebook back into his pocket, Chu Guang instinctively reached for the war hammer on his back. But the moment his hand brushed the grip, he realized there were only two people.
The burly man he had crossed paths with at the gate earlier was pressing a shotgun against the serf who had been led out before.
The serf knelt on the ground with his head cradled in his hands, trembling violently.
The group came to a halt.
Chu Guang looked at the burly man, who stared back at him blankly.
"Is something the matter?"
"No."
Chu Guang glanced at the poor wretch who didn't dare move under the gun, then turned back to the burly man with a strange expression. "What's this?"
The burly man hadn't intended to explain, as this was their farm's private business. But sensing this group was not to be trifled with, he answered cautiously, "...He's the master's slave. He's old, got arthritis in his legs, and can't do heavy work anymore. Broke a plate yesterday too. The master told me to drag him out here and dispose of him."
Hearing the burly man's words, Chu Guang recalled that Brown Farm seemed to dispose of several slaves every winter who were unfit for heavy labor and couldn't be sold, replacing them with new ones bought from slave traders the following year.
As for where these slaves came from?
God only knew.
Some were auctioned off by creditors due to debt; some had lost their freedom after being captured by marauders; others were outright clone products, or had emerged from a suddenly unsealed, long-forgotten shelter facility.
Chu Guang had even heard of scavengers selling themselves or their relatives just to survive.
In this wasteland, a slave nearing the end of his life wasn't even worth a two-headed ox capable of hauling cargo.
At least the ox had more meat on its bones.
"Please, please spare my life..."
The burly man looked down at the kneeling man with annoyance. "Even if I let you go, where could you possibly go? It's better to give you a quick end. Don't make things difficult for me."
"P-Please..."
The serf had no other words left.
"Wait a moment."
Chu Guang stepped forward, looking down at the kneeling old man. "How old are you?"
"Fifty-one..."
Indeed quite old.
For a slave, that was an advanced age.
Yet from another perspective, it also meant experience.
Chu Guang continued, "What can you do?"
Sensing a sliver of hope, the old man turned around trembling, reaching out as if trying to grasp a lifeline.
Seeing this, the burly man reacted swiftly, kicking him aside and snapping, "Don't touch the master's honored guest with your filthy hands! Do you want to be hanged?"
He had sharp enough eyes to tell that this group did business with his master.
Despite the kick, the old serf paid it no mind. Scrambling to his feet without even looking at the burly man, he lifted his wrinkled face toward Chu Guang.
"I—I know how to farm, I can count, I can do carpentry, haul things... I can do any kind of work! Please, my lord, give me a chance to live!"
"You can count?" The burly man sneered. "Counting a few potatoes counts as knowing how to count? My lord, don't listen to his nonsense. At his age, he's useless for work. Two caravans of slave traders came through this month, and not one showed any interest in him."
Chu Guang produced a white chip from his pocket and flicked it with his thumb into the burly man's hand.
"Is that enough?"
The burly man's face lit up, and he nodded repeatedly. "Enough, enough!"
Even a mosquito was meat, no matter how small. Besides, the slave wasn't his anyway.
Pocketing the chip, the burly man raised his shotgun and fired a shot into the sky, retrieved the spent shell from the ground, bowed to Chu Guang, and cheerfully carried his gun back to report his duty complete.
The serf crouched trembling on the ground, clearly rattled by the gunshot, looking as if he had lost his soul.
Chu Guang instructed a player to pull him up and bring him over, then looked down at him with an authoritative command.
"I bought your life. Now, you work for me."
His soul finally returning to his body, the serf moved to kneel, but Chu Guang raised a hand to stop him.
"We don't do kneeling here. Place your right fist over your left chest to show your loyalty. If I catch you in any betrayal or disloyalty, don't make me do it—dig it out yourself and feed it to the dogs."
Such threatening words were merely Chu Guang's way of setting boundaries. If a traitor truly appeared, throwing them into the active substance extractor to be rendered down would suffice; there was no need for such elaborate theatrics.
Though Chu Guang considered himself a civilized man, having lived and observed here for some time, he knew full well that certain problems could not be solved with a civilized mindset.
The natives and the players were fundamentally two different kinds of creatures.
Natives had to be managed with native methods.
It was better for both sides.
"Yes, my lord," the old man replied, bowing his head submissively, looking vastly relieved. Sensibly placing his right fist over his chest, he said, "I pledge my loyalty to you... My name is Luka. No, I have no name. Please bestow one upon me, my lord."
"Luka will do."
Chu Guang didn't care to waste time and waved to the players.
"Let's keep moving."
"We need to get back before noon."
...
This merchant run could truly be called a resounding success.
Three hundred kilograms of guano stone had yielded 3,600 kilograms of green wheat and ram horn potatoes, while a hundred kilograms of smoked meat had fetched five hundred kilograms of green wheat and five tools.
Although Chu Guang had argued that deer meat differed from hyena meat—the former being rarer, since deer migrations didn't happen every day—the other party had countered that if that were the case, he should bring hyena meat next time. As long as it wasn't human flesh, rat meat, fish, or the like, it was all the same to them. Chu Guang had no choice but to let it go.
In return, however, Liu Zhengyue had made a small concession out of consideration for their relationship, allowing him to pick five tools or one jin of tobacco leaves as a bonus gift.
Naturally, Chu Guang chose the tools, specifically picking large implements like pipe wrenches and fire axes. Even if they couldn't be used immediately, they could be smelted down for steel and copper back at base.
In addition, twenty-five kilograms of smoked fish had been traded for roughly 150 kilograms of scrap metal.
Unlike the common aluminum and steel alloys seen everywhere in the ruins, this scrap was prime material containing copper and zinc.
Liu Zhengyue hadn't been very keen to sell at first, but considering that merchants wouldn't visit for several months anyway and the metal would only sit around uselessly, he had agreed after consulting his master.
The midday sun hung directly overhead, casting dappled tree shadows along the road.
Aside from one Strength-type player hauling the wagon, the rest of the players were scattered around it.
Whenever a mutant cockroach scurried close, they would charge forward with howls and beat it to death with clubs, acting even more frenzied than the mutants themselves.
If mutants had the capacity to think, they would probably be bewildered right about now.
Just who was the prey here?
The only thing Chu Guang needed to do was curb their hoarding tendencies, as they wanted to pocket every bizarre trinket they laid eyes on.
While one could occasionally scavenge indigestible oddities from a mutant cockroach's stomach—and with extraordinary luck, perhaps even a chip or a bullet—the odds were vanishingly slim.
Most of the time, all they found were cockroach egg sacs.
Old Luka watched from the side, trembling with fear, clearly terrified by the group's bizarre behavior.
He had never seen such strange people, nor could he fathom what went through their heads.
Yet Luka knew well that as a servant, he didn't need to ponder such things. The less one knew, the longer one lived. Thus, he remained silent the entire way, his presence so faint he practically blended into the background.
Chu Guang, on the other hand, was in such a good mood he felt like singing.
Leading the wagon team back to the outpost, he arrived at the entrance just in time to see the two Yu brothers, burdened with game, gesturing anxiously at the players guarding the south gate.
Chu Guang's eyes lit up, and he called out from a distance.
Hearing the familiar voice, the Yu brothers snapped their heads around and waved with delight in their eyes.
"Brother Chu!"
Chapter 73