Chapter 77
Whether it was thanks to the tiny little sheepdog’s help or the countless big bones Xie Xingchen had handed out, ever since the little sheepdog brought him back, Xie Xingchen had successfully been accepted by the whole sheepdog family.
It showed in very concrete ways: the sheepdogs would wag their tails at him, let him pet them, and… allow him to mess with their sheep.
“Do you want to come with me?” Xie Xingchen asked one last time before leaving, still unwilling to give up as he kept scritching the dogs.
The more time he spent with the sheepdog family, the more he liked them. He desperately wanted to bring them back to the wooden cabin.
But the sheepdog family, full of a strong sense of duty, only wanted to stay with the sheep.
Seeing that they didn’t budge, Xie Xingchen could only sigh. “Alright then. Looks like we’re still not close enough.”
He left reluctantly, turning back every few steps.
However—
Not only did the dogs show no reluctance, they even started happily playing together as a family.
Their cheerful atmosphere made Xie Xingchen—the odd two-legged creature—look like the one who wasn’t “accepted.”
Xie Xingchen also understood that asking them to follow him right after being accepted really was a bit much.
Planning to come by more often to strengthen their bond, he quickened his pace and headed out.
Back at the wooden cabin, Xie Xingchen started scribbling and drawing on his light-brain.
Every so often his stylus would pause as he flipped through information pages.
He searched a lot of related materials, but none of it satisfied him.
In the end, he directly asked the system, “Xiao Mo, does our system take commission orders? Like, I pay star-coins, and the system helps find engineers and a construction team at market rates.”
He stressed the words “market rates.”
The subtext was obvious: if it cost more than normal, he didn’t want it.
[System: The player has reached LV5 and may independently hire system engineers. The hiring fee can be discussed directly with the engineer.]
[System: All materials provided by the system are special materials. After testing, even the lowest-tier system materials are 300% higher quality than average market materials. The efficiency and completion quality of hired robots are 200% higher than the market average.]
In other words: if the system stepped in, the price would never be cheap. Even without counting the engineer’s fee, it would still be at least five times the market price.
Xie Xingchen was disappointed. “Then I can’t afford it. If we’re talking hundreds of billions, I might as well just dream.”
[System Notice: Dear player, after testing, you already possess a system-run livestock workshop. You may now build a branch facility: [Standard · Livestock Factory]. Construction cost: 50,000,000 star-coins in revenue.]
Huh? There was such a good deal? Fifty million and he could build a branch livestock factory?
Xie Xingchen quickly asked, “This branch factory won’t give me another high-standard, high-demand manager robot, right?”
To be honest, Xie Xingchen had PTSD from Bai Xi.
If the system gifted him another “Bai Xi,” he’d rather not take the bargain.
[System: A standard branch livestock factory does not include a manager robot.]
Xie Xingchen instantly let out a breath of relief.
Good—then…
Xie Xingchen tried to bargain anyway. “Can it be cheaper? That’s fifty million star-coins! If I contact a construction team myself, I could probably build a livestock factory for two million.”
[System: System-built livestock factories include supporting facilities.]
Xie Xingchen: Fine. That really was an advantage.
After personally struggling through information-gathering, the reason he’d gone to the system in the first place was because the system made everything effortless and worry-free.
If he did it himself, he’d spend a lot of time and energy, and even then the final result might not be ideal—he wasn’t a professional livestock farmer.
And he knew himself: he often worked in a “hammer here, whack there” way—ideas everywhere, execution full of potholes.
Even if he could build the factory, finding suitable supporting machines would be a real headache.
Xie Xingchen sighed and asked again, “Then how much for hiring the engineer?”
[System: 100,000 star-coins.]
Xie Xingchen clicked his tongue in disbelief. “Why is it so little this time?”
The system fell silent for a long moment, then finally spoke.
[System: Because the new factory is a branch of the original livestock workshop, the system can integrate new blueprints based on the original internal structure. The 100,000 star-coins is the patent fee for Engineer Xiao Xiao’s original design blueprint.]
Ohhh, so that was it.
Xie Xingchen made the call. “Deal!”
[Ding-dong. 50,100,000 star-coins have been deducted. Branch livestock factory construction in progress. Please confirm branch location.]
A map popped up, covering a hundred-mile radius around the pasture.
Without thinking, Xie Xingchen set the branch factory location to the west side of the pasture, convenient for future transport and herding.
Once the location was confirmed and the payment processed, Xie Xingchen no longer needed to handle anything else.
That familiar thick fog blanketed the chosen area.
Xie Xingchen went to take a look once. After seeing the lively little robots working hard, he never went back again.
During this time, all his attention was focused on building rapport with the sheepdog family.
And he’d made great progress.
The sheepdog family was already willing to return to the wooden cabin with him. Xie Xingchen even built them a little dog “villa” outside the cabin, and the dogs would come nap there whenever they had time.
He believed that with just a little more time, he could bring them into the branch livestock factory and make them official, on-staff herders!
[Ding-dong. Friendly system reminder: A flash-sale item has appeared in the shop.]
Xie Xingchen’s eyes lit up instantly as he was still petting the sheepdogs. He immediately opened the in-game shop.
Oh my god, the system really did notify him—this was absolutely worth it!
Sure, it cost 1,000,000 star-coins per month for reminders, but a flash sale! That was a jaw-dropping discount item!
[Special Category · Flash Sale]
Name: Wool Product Manufacturing Machine
Output: Wool products
Effects: Warmth, aesthetics
Efficiency: 10,000 items / 24h
Note: Cannot be upgraded
Price: 10,000,000 star-coins (90% off; original price 100,000,000 star-coins)
Required level: LV5
Countdown: 00:08:12
Xie Xingchen: !
Talk about getting exactly what you need.
This was precisely what he needed at this stage.
He bought it immediately without hesitation.
After paying the 10,000,000, his account balance was 1,069,853,698 star-coins.
Xie Xingchen was satisfied. He spent money fast, sure—but he earned fast too!
As long as his earning speed kept up with his spending speed, he’d be rich forever!
He admired his ten-digit balance for a full ten minutes before finally tearing himself away.
Opening the system mail and seeing the wool-machine icon, a question popped into his mind.
“Xiao Mo, how big is that wool machine?”
If it was huge, he might need to build a factory just to fit it.
[System: The wool product manufacturing machine requires 100 square meters of storage space. In addition, the system recommends at least 200 square meters of warehouse space.]
So he needed at least 300 square meters total.
Xie Xingchen pondered, then asked, “Xiao Mo, if I commission the system to build a simple, open factory building of about 1,000 square meters, how many star-coins would that cost?”
Great—Xie Xingchen had officially started treating the system like a contractor.
[System: Do you need supporting facilities included?]
Xie Xingchen shook his head. “Just a simple, clean exterior design and basic interior finishing.”
[System: Based on the player’s requirements, the system has matched the following factory exterior designs. Please choose one.]
He hadn’t expected the system to actually filter like a shopping platform based on his needs!
Looking at the endless list of basic factory designs, Xie Xingchen could only describe his feelings with four words: pleasantly shocked.
Who would’ve thought—this was the first time he’d ever felt so pampered by the game system!
So… was the client really the “boss”?
And was throwing money at the system truly the path to success?
Staring at the page count represented by “…” on the design list, Xie Xingchen casually tapped “Sort by sales.”
And then—
All sales were zero?
Xie Xingchen blinked. “Xiao Mo, why are all these designs at zero sales?”
[System: Because the player has never purchased this product.]
That made even less sense. “I haven’t bought it, sure—but has nobody else bought it either?”
He refused to believe he was the only player.
However—
[System: 🙂 This game system is single-player.]
Xie Xingchen: “Grass (a plant).”
A single-player game… my ass.
Realizing he wouldn’t get any more useful answers, Xie Xingchen picked the design he liked most and obediently shut up.
[Ding-dong. Congratulations, player, you have purchased “Basic Factory Building 0361.” 10,100,000 star-coins have been deducted. Account balance: 1,068,843,698 star-coins.]
[Ding-dong. Please choose the construction location for “Basic Factory Building 0361.”]
Without thinking, Xie Xingchen placed the factory right next to the livestock factory.
Close was great—once the wool was sheared, he could send it next door for further processing.
Everything was ready, except for time.
During the days while the little robots built the factories, Xie Xingchen spent every day bribing the sheepdog family with big bones and toys.
After a lot of effort, he finally convinced the sheepdog family to shift their herding range to the west side near the factories.
Maybe it was their natural caution, or maybe they were afraid of unfamiliar things, but whenever the two factories were still covered in fog, the dogs would run over to watch, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.
But day after day, nothing strange happened—just occasional clanking sounds of machinery.
Then one day, the fog dispersed, and two huge, bright, clean factories appeared before the sheepdog family.
That day, when they returned from herding, they were stunned to find their doghouse had become bigger—and not only bigger, it had been placed where the security office should’ve been.
That’s right: Xie Xingchen spent money again.
He paid the system to redesign the factory entrance, expanding what should’ve been a single security office into the size of two, then turned the inner one into a giant upgraded dog villa.
The familiar “home” made the dogs excited, but the unfamiliar surroundings still made them hesitate. They wanted to go in, but they were wary.
“Woof woof woof.”
“Woof woof woof woof.”
“Woof woof woof woof woof…”
A rapid string of barks rang out.
It called Xie Xingchen out from his factory inspection.
Seeing the familiar sheepdog family, he smiled and waved.
Seeing the familiar two-legged creature, the sheepdogs relaxed and sprinted toward him.
Xie Xingchen greeted them warmly. “My little babies, from now on you’ll live here—how about that?”
As he spoke, he led them to the dog villa, big enough to be practically a house.
It was huge—plenty of space for several sheepdogs to run around.
Inside, it was even divided like a real home: bedrooms, a playroom, a bathroom.
On top of that, Xie Xingchen installed an intelligent housekeeper system for his dog employees.
“Welcome home.”
A mechanical voice sounded as soon as they entered.
He chose a mechanical voice because the dogs seemed to have a natural fondness for robots.
Sure enough, none of the four dogs reacted negatively. Instead, they ran around curiously.
Xie Xingchen toured them through the bedroom, bathroom, and playroom, showing them what each room was for through actions.
Only after they were fully familiar with the villa did he lead them out again.
Pointing toward the nearby sheep, Xie Xingchen said, “Little Milk Tea, Little Milk Coffee, Big White, Big Boss—bring the sheep in.”
He demonstrated clearly: he wanted the sheep brought into the factory.
The sheepdogs tilted their heads. Their minds were sharp—within moments, they understood their human’s request, dashed into the flock, and began herding with practiced ease.
One dog could herd a hundred Xie Xingchens.
In herding, Xie Xingchen could only be utterly crushed by the sheepdogs.
To the sheepdog family, the flock was more like a toy they’d found for themselves during idle time.
So when the two-legged creature—who kept giving them big bones—wanted the sheep, they handed them over without hesitation.
After all—if they had a choice, who would want to bite into a sheep covered in wool?
One bite and your mouth is full of hair; swallow it and it won’t even digest. If they didn’t genuinely enjoy herding, they wouldn’t have stayed with these sheep at all.
The four sheepdogs generously herded all the sheep into Xie Xingchen’s livestock factory.
Once the colorful sheep entered, many robots sorted them into pens by color.
Each pen was a huge, clean room—an enormous grid of spacious enclosures. It was spotless, and lavishly heated!
The sheep, previously bleating nonstop, immediately went quiet in the warm, comfortable pens. Feeling the heat, they lay down docilely.
The branch livestock factory had thirty pens total, each holding up to thirty sheep.
The sheepdogs had brought a total of 262 sheep. At 30 sheep per pen and sorting by color, Xie Xingchen used 11 pens.
Notably, the rainbow sheep were truly rare—so rare that putting them all into one pen still made it feel empty.
Back when he counted 108 sheep and found only 6 rainbow ones, he’d already felt they were scarce. But now it was even clearer:
Out of 262 sheep, there were only 9 rainbow sheep.
“Little Milk Tea, Little Milk Coffee, Big White, Big Boss—come here,” Xie Xingchen beckoned to the sheepdogs.
When all four came over, he played a video on his light-brain: a “How the adorable sheepdog family herds sheep” video he’d hurriedly made the night before.
When the dogs saw sheepdogs that looked like them herding on the pasture, all four barked happily.
Even after the video ended, Little Milk Tea and Little Milk Coffee instinctively started acting cute, clearly asking him to play it again.
Xie Xingchen soothed them. “Alright, alright—let’s watch again back at the villa.”
He patted each dog’s head and gently coaxed them.
Then, after issuing feeding and watering instructions to the robots, he led the dogs away.
The dog villa had an intelligent housekeeper and smart devices.
Xie Xingchen set food and water in the feeding area, uploaded the video to the housekeeper so it could play for them, and stayed to watch “the sheepdog family” again with them. When the dogs barked happily, he left.
With the branch livestock factory completed, shearing the sheep moved onto the agenda.
Shearing was simple. It could be done with a dedicated machine or with standard robots.
But machines were cheaper and easier, so as soon as the branch was built, Xie Xingchen ordered the necessary equipment from the Mechanical Emporium.
Once assembled, he used a mint-green sheep for the first test.
The sheep was secured on the platform, unable to move. According to Xie Xingchen’s settings, the intelligent laser left a layer of wool at sweater-length, then began shearing.
It wasn’t that Xie Xingchen wanted to be a heartless exploiter—winter was here. If he shaved them completely bald, he worried they’d freeze.
Also, hair-growth potion worked better when some base hair remained, so he thoughtfully left them a “wool sweater.”
With a few swift zzzt-zzzt motions, the mint-green wool dropped onto the platform, then a mechanical arm swept it into a pile.
The sheep, still pinned, looked like it had slimmed down several sizes—going from a fluffy “chubby” to a scraggly “skinny.” When it left the platform, it shook itself awkwardly, unused to the sensation.
Seeing that the sheep had no injury—just discomfort from suddenly being less fluffy—Xie Xingchen couldn’t help marveling. “This machine is amazing!”
After that, the remaining 261 sheep suffered the same fate. Each was turned into a “stubbly weirdo,” transforming from fluffy and cute into an awkward, half-shedding little gremlin in seconds.
Because these sheep had never been sheared before, each one contributed nearly 30 kilograms of wool.
The 262 sheep produced nearly 7,000 kilograms of wool total. The only reason it wasn’t higher was that some were lambs—too young to have much wool.
The flock fussed for a while after being shorn.
But once they realized every sheep had been shorn, they calmed down again.
Freshly shorn wool needed further processing before it could be used.
Raw shorn wool is called “grease wool,” because it contains oils and impurities. To make it soft and clean, the first step is removing those oils and dirt.
And this was where the flash-sale wool product manufacturing machine truly shone.
No wonder it needed so much space—because it could turn grease wool into finished goods.
The machine had multiple sections. The largest was an enormous drum.
You loaded grease wool into the drum and added a special cleaning solution purchased from the system. The drum rolled like a washing machine, flinging out oils and impurities.
After that, the wool moved into a second wash drum, where it was thoroughly rinsed until all remaining stains disappeared.
Once washed, the wool entered a large square drying chamber. In just half an hour, it was fully dried—clean and fluffy.
Xie Xingchen watched as the machine used fine steel needles to card the clean wool into long strips, then drew those strips thinner and longer, twisting them into yarn of different thicknesses.
Yarn itself was already a sellable product, but Xie Xingchen didn’t want to sell yarn—he wanted deep processing.
So the beautiful rainbow-like yarn went into the final section: the weaving department.
Here, as long as he had patterns, he could produce any yarn product—sweaters, skirts, knitwear, hats, gloves, scarves, bags, plush toys, and more.
However, different products required different formats and sizes of raw wool, so different items had to be produced in separate runs.
For now, Xie Xingchen chose the most “basic” option: a simple knit sweater.
Basic because in modern times, skillful moms could knit one by hand.
But also not basic at all.
Because these sweaters had unique designs—stylish and cute.
Combined with the pure, vivid colors of the wool, the finished products naturally looked amazing.
Most importantly—these were children’s clothes.
Kids’ clothes are small. Just a little yarn can make one piece.
After checking the finished products—
All qualified, all fashionable.
With a sweep of his hand, Xie Xingchen bought many more wool-product patterns from the system shop, and the textile factory officially started rumbling at full speed.
The wool machine was powerful. Even though he had a wide variety to make, it took only one week to process all 7,000 kilograms of grease wool into manufactured products.
But because of the recent “black-hearted cotton” scandal involving Tongxin Group, audits for children’s products became far stricter, and review times stretched endlessly.
If Xie Xingchen wanted to list children’s wool sweaters, he had to wait for approval and certification. Otherwise, if someone reported him, he’d face massive fines—and possibly jail.
He had no idea how long the review would take.
The scandal had just ended; reviewers would be meticulous beyond meticulous. All he could do was wait.
Fortunately, he wasn’t in a rush. Knitwear didn’t have an expiration date anyway. With no movement on the audit, he turned around and humbly began learning “scientific sheep-raising” from the system.
Whether he actually learned anything… Xie Xingchen refused to comment.
But he definitely spent a lot of money while “learning.”
First he bought a pile of guidebooks, then feed, and finally—under the system’s enthusiastic sales pitch—he bought the system shop’s animal hair-growth potion.
He didn’t know exactly how effective everything was, but after a few days of observation, the once “scraggly” sheep really did grow wool noticeably faster.
Before, because they’d been shorn and felt cold, even if the sheepdogs tried to herd them outside, they refused to go.
Now that their wool was growing back, they were willing to take a few walks outside—though only around the ring where Xie Xingchen had laid energy stones to keep the ground warmer than the surrounding area.
This didn’t surprise Xie Xingchen. It made sense.
What surprised him was something else entirely:
The ewes started producing milk!
And they produced a lot!
After feeding the lambs, there was still plenty left—fifty to sixty ewes could yield twenty to thirty jin of sheep milk per day.
Xie Xingchen: “That much?!”
He was shocked.
Twenty to thirty jin of extra sheep milk every day!
These ewes were unbelievably productive.
Long-Life reported, “Yes, boss. We’ve sterilized the milk and stored it in the refrigerated cabinet. At the current temperature, it stays fresh for one week. But since the surplus keeps increasing, the cabinet is almost full. Boss, do we need to build a cold storage room?”
If milk kept coming in with no outlet, the cabinet would run out of space sooner or later. And the ewes were producing faster, with more pregnant ewes as well—cold storage had to be built.
Xie Xingchen nodded and told Long-Life to have the robots build one.
Building cold storage was a small matter, and small matters didn’t need the system.
But before it was finished, Xie Xingchen had to figure out how to use up the milk.
There were many dairy products, but the first thing that came to mind—famous and iconic—was butter tea.
Butter tea is a beloved staple of pastoral peoples, both delicious and good for maintaining the body.
Its main ingredients are milk, tea bricks, salt, and so on.
The “butter” in butter tea usually refers to fat extracted from sheep or cow milk. It resembles butter in appearance but tastes purer and more fragrant.
In Tibet, herders often use yak milk to make it, but some say butter made from sheep milk is even richer and more aromatic.
Xie Xingchen had never made butter tea, and he didn’t have yak milk—only sheep milk. Normally, nobody would make butter from sheep milk anyway, because people raise sheep for wool, not for milk.
But Xie Xingchen didn’t care. Cooking was about experimenting.
Worst case, he wasted one bucket of milk.
People often say you “churn” butter, so the first step toward authentic butter was learning how to churn.
He poured fresh sheep milk into a tall wooden barrel and vigorously churned it with a long-handled wooden stick.
After about half an hour, his hands stopped feeling like his own. At the same time, yellow oily flecks began to appear in the milk.
Seeing those yellow flecks was like seeing hope. His fading strength surged back.
He churned for another twenty-plus minutes. The yellow flecks began clumping together and slowly rising to the surface.
Gradually, more and more yellow clumps formed. Once there were enough, he stopped.
He skimmed the butter, kneaded it, then shaped it into a cake and set it aside.
By the time he was done, his arms were so tired he could barely lift them.
Whew… he needed a break.
He set the butter down, returned to the cabin to eat, took a nap, and only then started making the butter tea.
Butter tea, as the name suggests, needed both butter and tea.
Pastoral peoples often use brick tea, but Xie Xingchen didn’t have brick tea—only loose leaves—so he used his own Pu’er.
He added water, lit the heat, and brewed a whole kettle of Pu’er.
When the pot filled with tea fragrance, he turned off the heat, filtered the tea into the same tall barrel he used earlier, then added butter, salt, and hot water.
Now it was time to churn like crazy. Once he finished this round, he’d have perfect butter tea.
Xie Xingchen: “…”
He didn’t want to churn.
Xie Xingchen: “Long-Life, come here—I have an important task for you!”
Long-Life walked over.
Xie Xingchen handed him the churning stick and made a polite “after you” gesture.
“Long-Life, go on—churn right here. Keep going until I tell you to stop.”
Long-Life, holding the long-handled stick: ?
Trusting his boss, Long-Life started churning.
But after a few strokes, he couldn’t help asking, “Boss, why don’t we use a machine?”
Wouldn’t this kind of physical labor be better for machines?
However—
Xie Xingchen argued passionately, “Of course not! Machines can’t produce the handmade flavor!”
Long-Life: “…Handmade flavor? Is that the taste of hard work and sweat?”
Xie Xingchen smiled and denied it. “No! It’s hard to explain. Just know this: handmade butter tea tastes best. Machine-made butter tea has no soul!”
Now Long-Life was even more confused.
Why did butter tea need a soul?
Wasn’t it just food?
Xie Xingchen sighed deeply and waved his hand. “Forget it—you won’t understand. When I make you a ‘handmade butter tea flavor’ energy drink one day, you’ll get it.”
Xie Xingchen was painting dreams again.
Earlier he’d promised them mango-flavored energy drink and still hadn’t delivered. Now he was issuing another IOU: “handmade butter tea energy drink.”
And yet Long-Life was… satisfied?
Yes. Long-Life was satisfied.
His satisfaction showed in one way: his churning speed got faster and faster.
Once the butter tea foamed up, Xie Xingchen quickly yelled, “Stop!”
He squatted down and admired the thick butter tea.
Satisfied, he poured the steaming butter tea into a thermos, poured Long-Life a cup to smell, and poured himself a cup to sip.
The rich, fragrant butter tea warmed him the instant it hit his stomach.
In that moment, he somehow understood the relaxed ease of pastoral life.
Cup after cup, he drank three full cups.
Setting the cup down, still wanting more, he said, “Long-Life, how about we make the rest of the sheep milk into milk tofu?”
Long-Life asked, “How do you make milk tofu?”
Xie Xingchen thought, then answered, “Ferment first. Once it turns into a chewy curd, simmer it. While simmering, skim off the yellow liquid that separates out.”
Long-Life asked again, “Do you want to make it?”
Xie Xingchen considered it for a moment, then… gave up.
Xie Xingchen flopped. “Nope. I don’t want to. Compared to milk tofu, I’d rather just buy a milk-powder machine and turn it into powder.”
Today’s physical exertion had already exceeded his limit. For the next week, he didn’t want to make any more dairy products.
He’d just buy a milk-powder machine and turn the sheep milk into sheep milk powder.
Xie Xingchen stopped struggling entirely and placed an order for a milk-powder machine from the Mechanical Emporium.
A small milk-powder maker wasn’t large, and assembly was easy, so it arrived by delivery. The package even included an installation guide.
The “idiot-proof” installation guide was so simple that any robot could do it.
Long-Life efficiently moved the machine into an empty room next to what Xie Xingchen called the “textile department,” and assembled it.
Mechanical Emporium machines were highly automated.
As long as the ranch robots poured in a set amount of fresh sheep milk every day, the machine would process it through multiple steps and produce sheep milk powder.
But since milk powder was also a children’s product, Xie Xingchen had to submit it for approval before selling it.
Xie Xingchen: It was… really hard.
The wool products still weren’t approved, and now he had to go through milk powder approval too.
This time, he truly worried about speed.
Because milk powder had a shelf life!
And since he only added a tiny amount of natural preservatives, the sooner it was consumed, the better.
He filled in the shelf-life details carefully and submitted the application.
Then on the morning of the third day, he discovered the milk powder had already passed review!
He immediately checked the wool-products application status again.
This time, he fell silent.
Because the wool products were still under review.
Welp. Looks like short-shelf-life products got a priority lane.
Xie Xingchen shrugged helplessly. “Alright then. Take your time auditing.”
Then he logged onto StarBlog, drafted a post, and sent it.
[Xie Xingchen V: “Earth Trading Company” will soon be listing “sheep milk powder”! If you need it, feel free to grab it—limited quantity, first come first served. P.S. There is no fixed listing time or fixed listing quantity. Supply is small and products are limited, please understand.]
The moment this StarBlog post went up, all Earth Trading Company fans exploded.
[MyKidAtHome: Holy—are you serious?! Earth Trading Company is releasing milk powder?!]
[YesNotStar: What kind of milk powder is it? Is it from those “baa-baa beasts”?]
[ShepherdingPlanetYyds: AHHHH it hasn’t even started and I already feel like I won’t get any. There’s no guaranteed listing time and no guaranteed quantity?!]
Earth Trading Company had built a reputation for honest operations and gathered many loyal fans.
As long-time followers, they knew exactly how much Boss Xie doted on customers.
So when Xie Xingchen personally came out before the listing to say supply was scarce and it would be “luck-based,” the old fans nearly cried.
How little did it have to be for the boss to preemptively explain like this?
Could it be just dozens… or a hundred cans?!
[OptimisticStarPerson: Don’t overthink it! It can’t be that few!]
[KidsCornerIsGreat: Yeah! Earth Trading Company is still a big shop! Would Boss Xie dare list something that tiny? When he says “small,” he probably means a few thousand or tens of thousands!]
People argued online, but everyone shared one trait: they were dying to know what “small” really meant.
It probably wasn’t “small” in the usual sense… otherwise he wouldn’t have posted a warning.
But at this moment, no one could imagine that Xie Xingchen’s “small” truly meant ridiculously small.
For the first batch, he listed only 46 cans of milk powder.
Nearly half were snapped up by citizens of the Insectoid Civilization. Another large portion went to people on remote planets. In the end, fewer than three cans landed in the hands of ordinary netizens on developed planets.
Everyone: ?
What the hell?!
Forty-six cans?!
What kind of cursed number was that?!
Who would’ve thought such a big shop would list only this pathetic handful?
And also—
The Insectoid Civilization bought about 20 cans?!
People felt like something shady was going on, but since the black-hearted cotton incident had just happened, nobody dared provoke a civilization that could mobilize for war at the drop of a hat.
After all, the Insectoid citizens were genuinely terrifying.
Say the wrong thing and trouble might come knocking.
And their technology was advanced and their internet fast.
It was absurd, sure—but what if it was just a coincidence?
No one wanted to be the first to stick their neck out.
But in reality…
The Insectoid Civilization had been “helped.”
They received a marketplace alert in advance, learned the exact drop time, and even used an official back channel to unlock a purchase speed 0.1 seconds faster than others.
Don’t underestimate that 0.1 seconds.
It was enough for them to grab almost every can they could. The remaining three cans in the developed-planet pool were only left because they thought it would look too blatant if they took everything.
“Lox, do you really believe this milk powder can help those infants whose constitutions were damaged slowly recover?”
Leaning against a dark red lounge chair, the Insectoid leader spoke in a flat, emotionless voice.
His emerald-green eyes—cold and inorganic—fixed on the current marketplace order page.
But the person called “Lox” wasn’t an Insectoid at all.
He was an elder of the Plant Civilization, and one of their sages.
Lox’s features were extremely gentle. His warm eyes looked like the earth itself, embracing all things.
With a smile in his gaze, he said to Xili, “Xili, you don’t have any other options right now, do you? In that case, why not try? Maybe it’ll bring a good outcome.”
Xili lowered his eyelids. His fingers slowly spun the ring on his pinky. After a long pause, he looked up, his voice unreadable.
“Oh? A good outcome?”
![After Waking Up I Inherited the Earth [Interstellar]](https://i1.wp.com/panda-translations.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/02/20220822190944_300_420.jpg?resize=151,215 "After Waking Up I Inherited the Earth [Interstellar]")
