High Martial: I Use Everything as Swords

Upon this wasteland of death, there was an astonishingly vibrant scene.

Tens of thousands of acres of fields were enclosed by a tall Spiritual Power fence.

On the fence, countless Runes flickered with a faint golden glow.

They formed a massive, hemispherical protective shield.

It completely sealed off the polluted air and hungry Low Tier Demon Beasts from the outside world.

In the fields grew East Sea Fortress City’s most important food crop—Purple Crystal Wheat.

The ears of this genetically modified and Spiritual Power-induced crop were not the usual golden yellow.

Instead, they displayed a translucent, mystical purple hue.

It was now the peak of harvest season.

When the wind blew, waves of purple wheat rolled across the fields.

Every plump grain refracted specks of light under the sun.

Was this really a wheat field?

It was clearly an endless land paved with crushed diamonds!

"Holy shit... that’s all money."

The first thought that popped into Han Feng’s head was tacky as hell, but incredibly real.

You had to know, this Purple Crystal Wheat sold for ten Contribution Points a pound in the Inner City’s official stores.

This endless purple ocean before him was a flowing mountain of gold.

Among the purple waves of wheat, several giant black silhouettes were moving slowly.

They were the farm’s armored harvesters.

They were massive, their bodies covered in thick composite Armor plates.

Their roofs were even mounted with dual-barreled Spiritual Energy Machine Cannons.

At their fronts were enormous rotating blade wheels, capable of shredding anything.

They were less like farm machinery and more like walking steel war fortresses.

"All callsigns, prepare for landing."

Squad Leader Zhang Hao’s calm voice came over the comms channel.

"The farm’s Landing Pad One has been cleared."

"Watch the crosswinds. The turbulence here is a little weird."

Eleven fighter jets began to circle and descend.

The moment they passed through the Spiritual Power shield, Han Feng felt the jet’s fuselage dip slightly.

This was the unique feeling of resistance from entering a high-concentration Spiritual Qi environment from a low-concentration one.

He took a deep breath.

The Spiritual Qi concentration here was actually a bit higher than in the Elite District of East Sea Martial Arts University. It was invigorating.

The runway was a simple hard-packed dirt road, paved with crushed stone and quick-drying cement.

It was rough and visibly uneven.

One by one, the fighter jets landed.

Just as his jet, the "Scarlet Witch," was about to touch down, Gu Yun pulled up the nose in an incredibly flashy maneuver.

He executed an exceptionally light, high-angle drift downward.

The landing gear tapped the ground without a sound.

Then, he pulled off a beautiful fishtail brake at the end of the runway.

The exquisite anime-style Witch art on the wing gleamed in the sunlight.

He kicked up a cloud of dust with an air of effortless style.

This drew the attention of a group of farm workers on the ground who were moving supplies, and they let out gasps of amazement.

"A perfect landing!"

Gu Yun shouted smugly over the channel.

"A ten out of ten for my Alice!"

"All flash."

Wang Meng grumbled.

His heavy fighter jet, painted with the gaping maw of a shark, unceremoniously slammed onto the runway with a BOOM.

The impact made the ground tremble.

It was Han Feng’s turn.

The Gray Donkey, with a heavy roar, plummeted straight toward the ground.

There was no concern for a graceful posture whatsoever.

THUMP—!

A terrifying, gut-wrenching thud echoed out.

The two massive wheels slammed into the ground, gouging out two shallow craters.

The flying dust was like an exploding smoke screen, and the ground itself shook from the force.

A huge drogue chute billowed open, desperately pulling back on the heavy fuselage.

It barely managed to come to a stable halt at the end of the runway.

The canopy opened, and a wave of hot air mixed with the scent of wheat and dust washed over him.

Han Feng took off his helmet.

Before he could even jump out of the jet, he heard a scream in his headset.

"No! My Alice—!"

Gu Yun’s voice was filled with anguish over the comms channel.

Han Feng looked in the direction of the voice.

The extravagantly painted "Scarlet Witch" was parked nearby.

Gu Yun was draped over his beloved jet’s wing.

In his hand, he clutched a snow-white, microfiber chamois cloth.

He was focused on a tiny speck of mud splattered on the lower edge of the wing.

He wiped it with extreme care.

He moved as if terrified that too much force would scratch his "wife’s" delicate skin.

"Damn this dirt road! Damn this gravel!"

Gu Yun muttered to himself as he wiped.

His tactical sunglasses were askew on his nose, his eyes filled with frantic distress.

"Alice’s skirt is dirty!"

"I just had this High Level nano-polish done yesterday!"

"These farmers have no appreciation for art! They couldn’t even be bothered to pave an asphalt runway!"

Wang Meng jumped down from his jet, shouldering his giant alloy War Axe.

He rolled his eyes without a hint of politeness as he passed Gu Yun.

"Alright, stop whining."

"When the fighting starts, you’ll be lucky if all you get is Demon Beast brains splattered on your face."

"What the hell do you know!"

Gu Yun whipped his head around, his glare so intense it looked like he wanted to eat Wang Meng alive.

"This is blasphemy!"

"Scars from battle are medals! Mud is a stain!"

"Alice is a noble Elemental Mage! How could she be sullied by such Mortal filth!"

Just then, an open-top electric off-road vehicle came speeding over from the direction of the farm’s office area, kicking up a huge cloud of yellow dust.

Before the vehicle had even come to a full stop, a middle-aged man in Deep Blue work clothes with a slightly receding hairline jumped out.

This was Zhou Ping, the deputy director of Golden Ears Farm.

His face was wreathed in smiles.

He vigorously wiped his two grease-stained hands on his equally grease-stained pant legs.

He walked quickly to greet the members of the Sharp Sword Squad.

Gu Yun immediately stopped his wailing, quickly straightened his collar, and adjusted his sunglasses.

He strode over to the front of his fighter jet.

Leaning sideways against the nose, he struck what he considered his most handsome, most artistically evocative pose.

He had specifically chosen this side-on angle for this mission.

This angle perfectly showcased the portrait of the White-haired Witch on the side of the fuselage, the final work of the famous artist "Ghost Hand."

It was one of a kind in all of East Sea City.

He waited, anticipating the gasps of awe and praise that were sure to erupt from the farm’s director.

Usually, even an unsophisticated hick who knew nothing about art couldn’t help but gasp in admiration upon seeing such an exquisite masterpiece.

Zhou Ping jogged over, his gaze quickly sweeping across the group.

Gu Yun lifted his chin slightly.

The corner of his mouth curved into a perfectly measured, reserved smile befitting a member of the elite.

He was ready to receive the worship due to the strong.

However, Zhou Ping’s gaze lingered on him and his magnificent fighter jet for less than a second.

His expression was plain, indifferent.

The next second, Zhou Ping’s eyes lit up!

A sharp gleam burst forth from them!

He completely ignored Gu Yun, who was still holding his handsome pose.

He even quickened his pace.

He whipped past Gu Yun like a gust of wind.

The smile on Gu Yun’s face froze instantly.

Zhou Ping rushed straight to Han Feng’s jet—the bloated, dust-covered "Gray Donkey" that was as ugly as its namesake.

"Oh! This is it! This is it!"

Zhou Ping was so excited his voice changed pitch.

He ignored the searing heat still radiating from the engine.

He reached out with both hands, stroking the Gray Donkey’s rough, heavy landing gear.

"Look at these solid tires!"

"Look at these powerful-looking hydraulic rods!"

"This is the real fucking deal!"

Han Feng had just stepped off the boarding ladder when Zhou Ping grabbed both of his hands.

The grip was powerful.

"Young man! This is the heavy support craft, right?"

Zhou Ping shook Han Feng’s hand vigorously.

His enthusiasm was like that of a brother reuniting with a long-lost sibling.

"Did you bring it?"

"The Model 3-B transmission shaft?"

"And the specialized Spiritual Energy Core for the combine harvester?"

Shaken until he was a little dizzy, Han Feng quickly nodded.

"I brought them. They’re all in the maintenance pod in the jet’s belly."

"I also brought three extra sets of spare high-strength hydraulic arms."

"Excellent! Excellent!"

Zhou Ping was so thrilled he stomped his feet on the spot, his eyes turning red.

Tears almost started streaming down his face right then and there.