Chapter 209
“Ancestor…”
Mu Yuncheng was about to express his gratitude when the vine swayed gently. A new leaf sprouted at its tip and softly wiped the tears from his face.
“Xiaobao will be fine. There’s no need to worry.”
The aged voice was filled with kindness, causing Mu Yuncheng to break down in tears once again.
The environment of Prison Star was entirely unsuitable for plant growth, and in the ancestor’s fragile condition, asking this of him was both selfish and unfilial.
Yet the vine silently patted his head before retreating.
When Mu Yuncheng finally managed to calm himself and looked up again, the towering tree was gone. In its place was a miniature version, small enough to fit in his palm, hovering midair.
Mu Yuncheng hastily retrieved a flower pot, filled it with soil, and placed the tiny tree inside. Its roots sank into the soil, finally finding a resting place.
This tree was truly ancient.
Its trunk and branches were dry and withered, and only a few leaves remained. Even someone with no understanding of plants could tell that its life force was fading.
The thought of how little time his ancestor had left brought another wave of sorrow to Mu Yuncheng’s heart.
Sensing his emotions clearly, Mu Qing spoke again, his gentle voice tinged with indulgent exasperation. “You’re the clan leader now. Why do you still act like a child?”
Taking a deep breath, Mu Yuncheng replied softly, “In front of you, Ancestor, I’ll always be this way.”
The Mu clan was small in number, and Mu Yuncheng had grown up under Mu Qing’s care. Despite being the clan’s elder, Mu Qing had always been kind and approachable, never imposing his authority on the younger generation.
Because of this, Mu Yuncheng held deep affection for him.
Whenever he thought about the inevitable moment when Mu Qing would wither and pass away, he was overwhelmed with grief. It was a topic they had discussed several times before.
“Life and death are rules no living being can escape,” Mu Qing said. “Don’t mourn for me. If I can return to the homeworld and rest my soul in its soil, I will have no regrets in this life.”
“Don’t worry, Ancestor. We will find the homeworld!” Mu Yuncheng declared solemnly.
And as for Prison Star, they had to go there, no matter what.
He glanced at the rows of trees deeper in the valley, his resolve growing stronger. If the caretaker on Prison Star truly could help them, he was willing to pay any price to secure that help.
This wasn’t just a problem for his family. If they couldn’t find a solution, at the current rate, the Mu clan would face extinction within three generations.
His ancestor had entrusted the Mu clan to him. How could he stand by and watch such a disaster unfold?
Wiping away his tears, Mu Yuncheng cradled the tiny potted tree in his hands and walked out of the valley.
“Rustle, rustle—”
The trees of various sizes in the valley moved as if stirred by an invisible wind. The sound of their leaves brushing against each other seemed like a farewell.
Mu Yuncheng stepped out of the valley. Waiting for him at the entrance were his wife, an ordinary human, and his son, Mu Bao, seated in a hovering wheelchair.
Mu Bao’s hair was tinged with green, and his delicate features were adorably gentle. When he saw his father emerge, his eyes curved into a bright smile, exuding an innocent warmth.
Mu Bao’s legs had completely turned to wood. His knees could no longer bend, leaving his legs stiffly extended. Fortunately, the woodification had only reached his thighs so far, allowing him to sit. Otherwise, he would have no choice but to lie down.
“Daddy, Ancestor,” Mu Bao called sweetly.
The more obedient and well-mannered Mu Bao was, the more Mu Yuncheng’s heart ached. He would have preferred his child to throw tantrums like the berserk beast-blooded cubs, rather than be so painfully good-natured, filling him with guilt and helplessness.
Mu Bao’s condition would only worsen. For now, he could no longer walk. Soon, he would lose the ability to sit, then his sight, speech, and hearing. Eventually, he would transform entirely into an unfeeling sapling.
This process would be excruciatingly painful—not only for Mu Bao but also for the parents and loved ones who adored him.
Mu Yuncheng could only hope that the caretaker on Prison Star truly lived up to the legends.
He handed the miniature potted tree to Mu Bao and hugged his wife. “I’m leaving everything here to you.”
The uncertainties of Prison Star’s dangers made him unwilling to bring his ordinary wife along, especially since the valley’s saplings needed tending.
Though those trees were devoid of awareness, each had once been a member of the Mu clan. If they were harmed due to negligence, Mu Yuncheng would never forgive himself.
“Go without worry. I’ll wait for your good news.”
That afternoon, a spacecraft departed Mu Pa Pa Star, heading toward Prison Star.
*
Prison Star, aboard the 244H
Su Ci casually cast a purification spell, and the aggressive monsters on the battlefield were instantly eradicated. Even the dense red mist dissipated, revealing the old, outdated spaceship hovering in the sky, now clearly visible to everyone below.
“Absolutely incredible!”
The rescued soldiers gazed at the ship in awe, their voices filled with admiration.
Over the past two weeks, the bases most severely affected by monster invasions had largely stabilized thanks to Su Ci and the cubs’ efforts.
While the cubs’ exceptional performance was a topic of great admiration, the enigmatic caretaker who never left the ship had become an even greater subject of fascination.
Although he had never appeared in person, recordings of his divine purification spells had been captured and circulated, drawing endless attention, particularly from purification specialists.
Were it not for the confidentiality agreements surrounding every battle on Prison Star, these videos would have likely gone viral across the star network.
Even the videos released by inspectors about the nursery had been heavily censored, with all identifiable details removed, and only a select few had access to view them.
People unfamiliar with the situation would assume the videos showed a regular orphanage or daycare center. At most, they might find it odd that the proportion of beast-blooded cubs in the facility seemed unusually high.
Thus, the influence of Su Ci and the cubs remained confined to Prison Star, which was more than sufficient for Su Ci’s purposes.
After Mo Lin discovered the effectiveness of the spiritual grass, the cultivators at Base 26 finally figured out the correct way to cultivate the so-called mutated plant seeds.
Despite Yun Zixu passing along Su Ci’s instructions, the cultivators had purified the soil before planting the seeds.
Using such purified soil to cultivate spiritual grass was doomed to fail. When the seeds didn’t sprout, some even questioned whether Yun Zixu’s information was incorrect. They tried numerous other methods but still couldn’t get the seeds to germinate.
It wasn’t until Lang Ze and the others planted purification grass in the barracks that the cultivators realized the proper method of cultivation.
With a “let’s give it a try” mindset, they took a small batch of seeds and scattered them over heavily polluted soil. To their delight, the seeds sprouted within half a day! The seedlings were indeed purification grass.
This discovery thrilled everyone.
Not only could purification grass absorb pollutants, but it also grew incredibly fast, outpacing ordinary plants and even the delicate mutated plants they had worked with before.
If they planted these mutated grasses across the base, it was entirely feasible to green a 10,000-square-meter area within a month.
When He Qirui received this news, he immediately ordered all repair crews to remove the metal flooring throughout the base, exposing the soil that had been sealed beneath it.
While the crews dismantled the floors, part of the military personnel worked to loosen the compacted soil. Under the guidance of the cultivators, the seeds were then sown.
The previously cultivated 10,000-square-meter area wasn’t abandoned, but it was clear that greening the base’s interior and improving its air quality took precedence.
This was no longer just about fulfilling the terms of a deal; it had become a matter of vital interest to the base itself.
On Mo Lin’s suggestion, the spiritual grass already thriving in the barracks was divided into individual seedlings, much like what Lang Ze and the others had done before. These seedlings were transplanted to new soil.
Seedlings had a higher survival rate than seeds and grew even faster. Within just a week, nearly all the land within Base 26, except for the main roads, was covered in spiritual grass, creating vibrant patches of green.
The concentration of blood mist in the air visibly decreased.
Even more encouraging was that as the blood mist thinned, the frequency of monster invasions at Base 26 significantly dropped. Moreover, the strength of monsters that did appear weakened as the blood mist dissipated.
This unexpected joy was incredibly inspiring!
Without any orders from above, the soldiers began planting purification grass voluntarily. Who could resist having a small potted plant with purification abilities in their room?
The logistics department didn’t have enough pots to meet the demand, so the soldiers got creative. Cups, basins, and anything that could hold soil were repurposed for planting grass.
One soldier even modified a scrapped hovercar to fill it with soil for planting. Although he was severely reprimanded by his commanding officer, the same hovercar ended up being “confiscated” and moved into the officer’s own quarters.
This planting craze spread like wildfire across Base 26.
For soldiers living in such a bleak and oppressive environment, even without the purification effect, the sight of vibrant green grass was enough to lift their spirits and brighten their mood.
More importantly, after introducing these plants into their spaces, they noticed tangible benefits: their bodies felt more relaxed, and their emotions became more stable.
However, as the scale of purification grass planting expanded, the blood mist inside the buildings was quickly eliminated. While outdoor grass could still absorb pollutants from the air and soil, indoor grass had no such source to draw from.
Before long, the indoor purification grass began wilting and dying, leaving many soldiers heartbroken.
Having fallen in love with their potted plants, the soldiers found it difficult to accept this reality. It wasn’t long before Song Zehe and the rookie barracks under his charge caught everyone’s attention, because—
His potted plant hadn’t died!
To be precise, his star-chain vine not only survived but thrived. It had overgrown his entire balcony and even started climbing outward.
This attracted the attention of other barracks, as the vine’s vigorous growth was impossible to miss.
When the first soldier successfully transplanted a clipping from Song Zehe’s vine into their own pot, Song Zehe’s dormitory became a hub of activity. Nearly every day, someone came to ask for a clipping of the star-chain vine.
Song Zehe was more than happy to oblige.
The star-chain vine’s growth was so aggressive that he had to prune it regularly. Sharing the clippings with his comrades for planting was the best way to make use of them.
In addition to requesting cuttings from Song Zehe, some resourceful soldiers exchanged for seeds at the cultivation center.
Initially, expectations were low, but to their surprise, the seeds thrived!
Not only did they grow in pots, but seeds planted in soil previously used for purification grass also began to sprout, with plants taking root and flourishing.
This discovery meant they could cultivate crops directly in the soil without relying on the cultivation center’s soilless systems.
The realization sparked a planting frenzy at Base 26. As the 244H continued its missions across Prison Star, this enthusiasm for planting spread to all the human bases on the planet.
