Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 288 - 24: Urgent Priorities

Roman wracked his brain to improve food production so as to support a larger population.

A million pounds of food sounds like a lot, but Origin City has nearly fifty thousand inhabitants.

It was all used up in less than a month!

All food production is cyclical.

Even if it’s vegetables, which grow quickly, they still require twenty to thirty days to mature and they don’t fully satisfy hunger, only serving as supplements.

This was also why Roman did not dare to freely buy slaves.

Otherwise, he could easily trade a million arrows for one hundred thousand slaves with Alex.

Black Iron Land is the strongest and most prosperous land kingdom among the Seven Kingdoms.

The Conqueror occupied the richest Central Valley of the entire vast lands.

Roman believed that the population of Black Iron Land was at least ten million - at the very least.

Ten million, even twenty million was possible.

This one hundred thousand population was barely one percent of Black Iron Land.

Of course, other kingdoms did not have such large populations.

For instance, the Ice Island Kingdom had a population of three million at most.

Thus, in the war against the pirates, the King of Ice Island was considered a support teammate to Grand Duke Riptide.

The pirates were now waging a full-scale invasion war.

The whole North was in complete chaos; pirates invaded not only Black Iron but also swept through Ice Island.

Roman, not particular about meat or vegetable, men or women, young or old, found this one hundred thousand population to be just a drop in the ocean for the pirates.

But with a million arrows, the pirates could match ten "Straw Boat Borrows Arrows."

With their powerful long-range firepower, they estimated they could capture one-fifth of Black Iron Land.

Riptide’s Shattered Archers were nothing in front of a million arrows!

It wasn’t that Roman couldn’t come up with them.

Casting arrowheads, aligning Arrow Shafts on pedal-driven lathes, factory-style management—if unleashed to full productivity, the output could astonish everyone.

But he couldn’t support that many people.

Without mincing words.

The problem with humanity is a problem of food!

But looking at Gwivelle’s pale little face, then at the experimental field that was only an acre large...

The consumption of blessing plants was minimal.

But it didn’t matter how large the area was, much less that it had been blessed five times.

Sigh...

The responsibility is heavy and the road is long.

However, these experimental fields, Roman intended to keep all seeds.

This batch had received Gwivelle’s blessing, producing rice with desirable traits, which would become seeds for next year’s rice.

Next year, he would bless new seeds.

In other words, Gwivelle wasn’t a rice princess but truly the mother of rice.

In the future, everyone in Origin City should bow deeply to her.

"You’ve worked hard," Roman said.

Gwivelle, having regained some strength, wrapped her arms around Roman’s shoulders and pressed her cheek to his, saying, "Roman, as long as I can help you, I’m happy."

"Mhm, it’s all for me," he kissed Gwivelle’s brows and eyes, making her giggle.

"After I sleep, I’ll have new energy," she said as she laughed, her eyes fatigued and unable to stay open, falling asleep deeply with a content and joyful expression.

Roman brought Gwivelle back to the manor and met Shasta.

"She’s exhausted," Shasta noticed her condition immediately.

"Because I need her," Roman said. "Is there anything else in Witch Forest that could help her?"

"Leanna’s Magic Potion can only be taken once! Otherwise, she’ll die."

"I’m asking if there’s a way to ease her burden, not for you to state these inexplicable things."

Gwivelle wore a Blue Gemstone and an Amber stone, the former increasing her mana, and the latter enhancing her intelligence.

But the effect was not significant, serving mostly as a support.

Shasta furrowed her brow in thought, "I remember there’s a Talent Spell in Witch Forest that can enhance a companion’s mana—but she isn’t even a Middle Rank Witch."

Witch Forest in its prime had nearly a thousand witches—half of whom were Middle Rank Witches.

A witch of this level could match Knights of the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Ranks.

This power was accumulated by Witch Forest over a lengthy period.

The Prophet Witch had the ability to awaken the hidden potentials of witches.

Under her guidance, the power of witches usually saw significant increases.

But witches rarely gathered together; instead, they lived dispersed across various strongholds.

Shasta, who had grown up in Witch Forest from childhood, could not recognize everyone.

During Gael’s siege on the witches, their living space was compressed; after the battle in Holy City, the witches suffered heavy casualties, losing all their strongholds, and could only flee to Cangyue.

"Can you call her over?" Roman said.

"I can ask," Shasta stated bluntly, "but I have to tell you, witches have limits, and even if you help her, you are only going to make her more tired. The more help you provide, the more exhausted she becomes."

Roman’s brows knitted, "That’s not for you to worry about!"

"I might not worry, but I care; overexerting her power will make her weaken prematurely."

Roman had come to know during this time that witches also had periods of weakness or aging.

They had long lifespans; high-level witches could live for hundreds of years.

But continuously overextending their power...

They are not defeated by time, but by their bodies.

The bodies and souls of witches have limits.

Roman could not expect Gwivelle to bless hundreds of acres of rice paddies in a day.

Humans are not machines; how could they be treated as machines to be exploited?

If feeling tired, one should sleep.

Excessive tiredness, falling into a sleep from which one does not awaken, is also normal.

Shasta saw him deep in thought and guessed he was also worried about Gwivelle’s physical condition, her ordinarily cold voice grew soft, "My teacher, the Thunder Witch, died like that... She drank a Magic Potion to prove our innocence, and in the end, left nothing behind."

"Hmph, foolish action."

"You!" Shasta’s eyebrows shot up.

Roman, uninterested in arguing with her, handed the sleeping Gwivelle to her and turned to leave.

She glared at his retreating figure, wanting to punch him, then glanced at Gwivelle in her arms, and silently grinded her teeth as she returned to her room.

...

Roman intended for Gwivelle to bless fifty acres of rice fields this year. freewebnøvel.com

He originally planned to bless a hundred acres.

But considering that he could not work her to death,

he halved her workload.

Such a useful witch needed to be utilized for more years, preferably over a hundred years; that would be very comforting.

These experimental fields should each yield about three hundred kilograms.

Thus, he would have fifteen thousand kilograms of rice seeds, theoretically enough to meet the seed needs for two thousand acres of rice fields next year.

However, these excellent individuals that suddenly mutated could only be planted once, then their characteristics would rapidly degrade.

This was indeed a miracle brought by Gwivelle.

Miracles cannot spread or sustain.

This is also why Roman deemed blessing infants incredibly cost-ineffective.

Her blessings were effective, but their potency would dissipate, requiring reapplication in the future.

After all, the human growth period spans over a decade, relying on a single blessing to last that long was often unrealistic.

Rice seeds were different, harvested within four or five months.

He pondered, seeking other means to increase food production.

Farming was the immediate priority.

He looked at the system interface, gazing over the vast basin, his ambition smoldered—eager to shape it to his desires.

But Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Roman stared at the weather forecast on "Breathing Story."

A storm was coming!