High Martial: I Use Everything as Swords

"Harvester number three broke down last night."

"If we didn’t have this axle, it would’ve set us back a lot!"

He spun around abruptly and bellowed at someone in the distance.

"Spud!"

"Get the crane over here! On the double!"

"Be gentle with it! Don’t you dare scratch our precious treasure!"

After yelling, he turned back around.

He pulled a crumpled, unopened pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

Without taking no for an answer, he shoved it into Han Feng’s hand.

"Little brother, this plane of yours... it’s a damn fine piece of work!"

"Look at this payload capacity!"

"Look at this sturdy belly!"

"Just lookin’ at it puts a man’s mind at ease!"

Zhou Ping’s tone was filled with the highest praise for an industrial creation.

"It’s so much better than those flashy, useless little toys!"

Not far away, the smile on Gu Yun’s face, who was still holding his cool pose, froze solid.

He stood there, completely stiff.

A gust of wind carrying the smell of earth blew past.

A few dry, yellow wheat leaves swirled in the air.

They drifted down, landing beside his gleaming white flight boots.

’Flashy?’

’Useless little toy?’

Gu Yun took off his sunglasses, staring in disbelief at the middle-aged fat man who couldn’t keep his hands off the "Gray Donkey."

His "Alice."

The work of art personally designed by the chief designer of Star Sea Technology, an aircraft whose cost could buy an entire factory in the Outer City.

The ultimate creation, its fuselage airbrushed with the limited-edition "White-haired Witch," representing the pinnacle of aesthetics and performance.

’And it... lost to a fat, ugly logistics transport?’

"Pfft."

A laugh, desperately suppressed yet still clearly audible, came from the side.

Wang Meng just couldn’t hold it in.

He walked over.

His massive hand slapped heavily on Gu Yun’s shoulder, nearly driving Gu Yun’s slender body into the ground.

"You hear that, Eldest Young Master Gu?"

Wang Meng grinned so wide that all of his pearly white teeth were on display.

"The farm director said your thing is a ’flashy, useless little toy’."

"Seems your ’waifu’ isn’t so charming after all."

"Around here, the only thing that matters is if it can haul cargo and get work done."

Wang Meng leaned in and lowered his voice.

"Can your 2D waifu get down and dirty to fix a tractor?"

Gu Yun slapped Wang Meng’s hand away, his movements swift as he furiously put his sunglasses back on.

"Superficial!"

"Utterly vulgar!"

"This is a flagrant desecration of art!"

He turned around, aggrieved.

With a silk handkerchief, he gently wiped away a nonexistent speck of dust from the wing.

"Alice, don’t listen to these barbarians."

"They simply don’t understand what elegance and nobility are."

Gu Yun ground his teeth.

His other hand subconsciously pulled out the golden Lucky Coin.

It flipped rapidly between his fingers, making a crisp clicking sound.

"Hmph."

"If you don’t get MVP in the battle today, I’ll... I’ll go back and swap you to that ’battle-damaged’ paint job!"

"Make you look like a barbarian, too!"

Wang Meng roared with laughter.

Shouldering his enormous War Axe, he walked toward the assembly point, thoroughly satisfied.

Han Feng was over there, directing the farm workers as they unloaded the cargo.

Watching this scene, he chuckled to himself.

’These teammates of mine sure have vibrant personalities, almost to a fault.’

After the cargo was unloaded, Zhou Ping enthusiastically ushered everyone onto an open-top electric bus.

The large, peeling words "Golden Ears Farm" were printed on its side.

"The conditions are a bit rough. I hope you elites will bear with us."

Zhou Ping said with a smile, turning back from the front passenger seat.

"The dorms are right behind the office building."

"The cafeteria has food ready for you."

"It’s all freshly slaughtered Black Mountain boar. Eat your fill!"

Gu Yun looked at the dust-covered seat with a disgusted expression.

He took a sealed, disposable sterile seat cover from his backpack and carefully spread it out.

Only then did he pinch his trouser legs between two fingers and reluctantly sit down.

"I want a single room."

Gu Yun spoke, his tone full of undisguised rich-boy petulance.

"I’m not used to sharing a room with people."

"Especially not with certain barbarians who snore."

Wang Meng, sitting in the back with his legs crossed, scoffed at his words.

"Who’d want to room with you?"

"I’m more afraid you’d start sleep-talking to the 2D characters on your wall and scare the hell out of me."

Zhang Hao, sitting at the very front and checking a map on his terminal, spoke without turning his head.

"Stop being picky."

"This is a frontline farm, not your backyard garden."

"Two people per room. Figure it out yourselves."

The bus started up, bumping along a dirt road between the fields.

Towering stalks of Purple Crystal Wheat lined both sides of the road.

Heavy purple heads of wheat swayed in the wind.

A strange, sweet fragrance filled the air.

Han Feng sat at the back of the bus, but his gaze wasn’t on the harvest scene.

He looked toward the drainage ditch by the side of the road.

There was some freshly turned, damp soil there, much darker than the surrounding dry earth.

"Director Zhou."

Han Feng suddenly spoke up.

Zhou Ping, who had been explaining the situation to Zhang Hao, turned around.

"What is it, little brother?"

"Has there been a lot of activity underground these past few days?"

The smile on Zhou Ping’s face faded slightly.

He gave Han Feng a somewhat surprised look.

"You noticed it too?"

He sighed.

"Things haven’t exactly been peaceful."

"These past couple of days, ’Ground-Digging Moles’ have been constantly messing up the foundations."

"The guard team even took out two mutated ’Mad Rabbits’ last night."

"But they’re all just small fry that don’t pose a real threat."

Han Feng’s nose twitched slightly.

The Extraordinary Perception granted by his > allowed him to distinguish extremely subtle Energy fluctuations in the air.

That earthy smell wasn’t just the simple scent of soil.

It was mixed with a faint, almost imperceptible trace of cold, viscous "Evil Qi."

That was the unique odor produced when a large number of Low Tier Demon Beasts gathered, their Life Magnet Fields polluting and distorting one another.

"The smell... is a bit strong," Han Feng said in a low voice.

Zhou Ping clearly didn’t have Han Feng’s keen Perception.

He waved his hand, not paying it much mind.

"Eh, it’s harvest season."

"It’s normal for these beasts to smell the crops and try to snatch a bite."

"Besides, our high-voltage Spiritual Power fence isn’t just for show."

The bus soon stopped in front of a small, two-story building.

"We’re here. This is the dormitory."

Zhou Ping pointed at the building.

"Men to the left, women to the right. Get settled, we’ll meet in the cafeteria in ten minutes for dinner."

Gu Yun was the first to jump off the bus.

Carrying his exquisite suitcase covered in anime stickers, he made a beeline for the room on the second floor with the best view.

"This room is mine!"

"I want the bed by the window! The lighting is good for taking pictures of my figures!"

Zhang Hao looked at Han Feng with a helpless smile.

"Looks like you and I will have to squeeze in together."

"I don’t mind."

Han Feng shrugged.

"As long as the bed doesn’t collapse."

After settling their luggage, the group went to the cafeteria.

As soon as they entered, a rich, meaty aroma aggressively assaulted their nostrils.

It wasn’t the chemical scent of synthetic meat.

It was the primal fragrance of real, fresh meat, stewed to perfection.

Several large pots, each nearly a meter in diameter, bubbled on the stove.

Large, bone-in chunks of pork stewed inside.

The broth was a glossy red, with oil glistening on the surface.

Beside them were steamed white buns piled up like a small mountain.

Each one was the size of an adult’s fist, steaming hot.

Han Feng picked up a stainless steel tray.

He unapologetically piled it high with meat.

Finding a corner, he sat down and began to feast.

Cultivation consumed a huge amount of Qi Blood.

His stomach was a bottomless pit right now.

Gu Yun held his plate, picking at the fat in the meat with a disgusted look.

"It’s too greasy."

"This is bad for my skin."

He nibbled on a steamed bun.

Watching Han Feng’s ferocious eating style, he couldn’t help but frown and complain.

"Were you a starving ghost in your past life?"

"If you eat that much, aren’t you afraid you’ll puke it all into your helmet once the G-forces kick in?"

Han Feng didn’t even look up.

He gripped a steamed bun in his left hand while gnawing fiercely on a large bone with his right.

He replied indistinctly.

"Don’t worry."

"My stomach is more stable than your plane."

Gu Yun’s face instantly turned green.

He almost threw the bun in his hand.

"Crude!"

"Disgusting!"

"You... That’s a personal attack!"

Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps came from the cafeteria entrance.

THUD, THUD, THUD.

With each step, the concrete floor trembled slightly.

Han Feng looked up.

A burly man walked in.

His frame blocked more than half the light from the doorway.

The man wore a faded, army-green tank top.

Beneath his bronze skin were terrifying muscles, gnarled like rocks.

The most eye-catching feature was his right arm.

From the elbow down, it was not flesh and blood.

Instead, it was a mechanical prosthesis that glinted with a cold, metallic luster.

The prosthesis was crude and wild in its construction.

It was covered in scratches of varying depths and caked-on grease.

Exposed hydraulic lines were visible at the joints.

It was filled with a primitive, violent aesthetic.

Lei Zhen, Director of Golden Ears Farm.