Hiding his light under a bushel, Wei Yuan felt that over the past month he had truly grasped the profound meaning of these four characters; a whole month had gone by without him provoking a fight or going out to war.
Before Wei Yuan stretched endless fields of grain, the seedlings already growing a foot tall, with less than a month to go before the harvest season. Currently, the seedlings were a bit sparse in the fields and of uneven height, he estimated a yield of about two hundred pounds per acre.
The hundred thousand acres of grain fields were all newly cultivated land. Wei Yuan's Divine Sense swept over it, sensing that the toxicity in the soil was gradually being absorbed by the seedlings and then slowly transformed. Next harvest season, he estimated that the yield would increase by ten percent, and once Jia Wood Birth Xuan recovered, it could increase by another ten percent.