When a Blade of Grass Wants to Become Immortal

Chapter 217 -213: Interstellar Deserted Star Farm Woman 24

It was a good idea, but it seemed useless. Everyone trying to find Ji Xiaosong had exhausted all their options.

Main Star Science Academy·Data Abyss Department

“Location attempt 1,024 failed.”

A cold, mechanical voice announced as the star map on the holographic screen once again collapsed into gibberish.

A technician with dark circles under his eyes tore open his 17th packet of stimulant nutrient fluid. “Damn it! Her stream’s signal is like someone took an eraser and just carved a hole straight through the universe!”

Agricultural College·Mystical Collaboration Department

“Try this!”

A young scholar with a bird’s nest of hair stuck a talisman onto a Quantum Communicator, arranging an Ancient Blue Star Peach Wood Sword and a Photon Processor on the table in a strange Array.

“The Taoist Collection says, ‘to transmit one’s voice over ten thousand miles, one must borrow nature’s spiritual energy.’ Since the scientific approach isn’t working…”

The equipment suddenly burst with green smoke, and the radiation monitor in the corner shrieked madly. It turned out they had accidentally summoned three interstellar wandering quantum ghosts.

Star Network Live Headquarters·Backstage Supervision Department

“The 900 millionth private message has triggered the anti-harassment protocol.”

A robotic administrator popped up a warning window. On the screen, the Science Academy’s official account was spamming messages at a rate of 500 per second, the content gradually shifting from “A Proposal for the Establishment of an Interstellar Agricultural Cooperative System” to a screen full of glowing emoticons.

(✧∇✧)╯╰(‵□′)╯≡╰(´◔ω◔`)╯

Ji Xiaosong was oblivious to all of this.

A few days later, Ji Xiaosong started another stream.

“Hey everyone, today I’m stewing pickled cabbage and pork belly… Wait!”

Ji Xiaosong froze on the spot, ladle in hand. The layers of holographic comments were so thick she could barely see her stove.

Countless officially verified accounts, glittering with golden light, were spamming the screen:

[Main Star Agricultural Research Institute V] used a special effect of 99 Deep Space Fleet starships to spell out: PLEASE COLLABORATE!!! (｡•́︿•̀｡)

[Interstellar Plant Society] unfurled a holographic banner in the comment section: Streamer, check your DMs! We’re willing to trade Curvature Engine technology for a single peach pit!

“You want to collaborate with me? On what?”

[Main Star Agricultural Research Institute V]: “Streamer, are the toxin-free plants and animals something you bred, or did you use some method to remove the toxins?”

[Main Star Agricultural Research Institute V]: “This is a matter of survival for everyone in the interstellar community. We implore you to take a look.”

“I see. I can grow toxin-free plants. As for animals, I have to personally remove the toxins from their bodies, otherwise they’ll still be toxic. I’ll contact you after the stream ends, don’t worry.”

Ji Xiaosong explained. She had actually been thinking about finding a good organization to partner with, and this Agricultural Research Institute seemed perfect.

Before long, after finishing the content for the day’s stream, Ji Xiaosong said to everyone, “That’s all for today’s stream. I’ve posted the recipe to my feed. Everyone from the Agricultural Research Institute, stay behind. Let’s have a detailed discussion.”

All the regular viewers were instantly ejected from the livestream, leaving only three glittering, gold-certified official accounts hovering in the air.

She casually stuck the ladle into a water vat, and ripples in the shape of a star map spread across the surface.

“Speak. Do you want seeds or soil samples?”

“Excuse me, how should we address you?”

“Ji Xiaosong.”

“Very well, Miss Ji. Please allow me to formally introduce myself on behalf of the Main Star Agricultural Research Institute.”

The holographic projection of a silver-haired academician took half a step forward, the Nine-pointed Star Badge on his chest glowing with a cold, blue light.

“I am Qin Zhao, Head of the Ecological Purification Project.”

The other two projections flickered simultaneously. The woman on the left, wearing a white lab coat, spoke: “Lin Wan, Chief Genetic Engineer of the Interstellar Plant Society.”

The man in the military uniform on the right nodded. “Zhou Lin, Deep Space Fleet, Resource Support Department.”

Ji Xiaosong lightly tapped her fingertip on the stove, and the bronze pot lid emitted a clear, sonorous hum.

“Just tell me what you need.”

“This is the toxin accumulation curve for interstellar crops over the last century.”

Qin Zhao brought up a holographic chart. Dark red data streams coiled menacingly like blood vessels. “According to current purification technology, seventy percent of colony worlds will become dead zones within twenty years.”

Lin Wan’s voice trembled as she continued, “We tracked your previous streams and bought one of the sea buckthorn portions you sold. The test report for that sea buckthorn fruit showed zero toxins. By tracking it, we located a suspected cultivation site, but when we sent a research starship, the entire oasis was already…”

“Destroyed by a stellar storm?”

Ji Xiaosong let out a soft laugh and scooped up half a ladle of pickled cabbage soup. “Of course you couldn’t find it. That was a temporary ecopod I built using a discarded warp engine.”

The three projections froze simultaneously.

Data ripples spread across Zhou Lin’s military uniform—a signal disturbance indicating extreme shock.

“Let’s get back to business.”

The young woman’s smile suddenly vanished as she tapped the ladle lightly against the rim of a ceramic bowl.

“If you want toxin-free crops, you have to nurture them starting from the seed. As for purifying animals, if you have a Fourth-rank Spiritualist, it might be possible to separate the toxins. However, I haven’t had anyone else try it yet, so I don’t know if it would be successful.”

The quantum clock in the lab suddenly let out a sharp buzz. Qin Zhao’s holographic projection rippled violently—a compulsory calming measure triggered when the main brain detected an emotional spike exceeding the safety threshold.

“Do you have any idea what this means?”

Lin Wan’s holographic image suddenly solidified, the genetic engineer’s fingertips nearly passing through a ceramic jar on the stove.

“After interstellar calendar year 237, all crops on the colony worlds have carried radiation toxins. Even newborn babies…”

“Engineer Lin!”

The cuff of Zhou Lin’s military uniform lit up with the blue light of an encryption protocol, but Qin Zhao stopped him with a raised hand.

The old academician’s holographic image suddenly collapsed into a stream of raw data, then reconfigured itself a second later.

The Nine-pointed Star Badge on his chest split open, revealing a built-in micro-ecopod where three withered ears of wheat floated in a pale blue liquid.

“This is humanity’s last clean gene bank.”

Qin Zhao’s voice was like sandpaper scraping against a Starship’s hull. “For these three B.C.E. wheat seeds, the Deep Space Fleet lost twenty-three special forces soldiers.”

Ji Xiaosong’s ladle suddenly stopped in mid-air.

“Give me the seeds. Let me see them.”

A golden data stream flowed from Qin Zhao’s projection, and three seeds, wrapped in a pale blue halo, passed through the holographic screen.

A cyan-green spot of light glowed on Ji Xiaosong’s palm. The seeds hovered three centimeters from her skin, trembling faintly.

“Spring wheat, 2025 B.C.E.”

Patterns of light like swirling star rivers flashed through her pupils. “An original species from Ancient Blue Star’s Yellow River Basin. Dormancy period… incalculable.”

The sound of shattering glassware came from the lab, and Lin Wan’s holographic image suddenly stuttered into a mosaic of pixels.

“How did you know?”

“I’ve planted it before.”

Ji Xiaosong flipped her hand, tossing out three bags of grayish-brown soil. Data streams instantly enveloped the stove.

Alarms blared in the Agricultural Research Institute’s lab. The needle on the ecological detector smashed past the dial’s limits—the radiation and toxin levels of the soil were absolute zero.

“Take my seeds and try them.”

With a flick of her finger, she shot twenty sea buckthorn seeds into the holographic screen. “Use the accompanying soil. They’ll sprout in three days and bear fruit in seven.”

The three projections simultaneously erupted in rainbow-colored data fireworks—the highest-spec interstellar gesture of gratitude.

The medals on Zhou Lin’s military uniform automatically disassembled and reassembled, forming the flashing Ancient Blue Star character for “Thanks”.

“Happy to cooperate.”

Ji Xiaosong fished her Quantum Communicator out of the pickled cabbage soup. “Next time, don’t use starships to spam the comments. It was so noisy the pot lid was rattling.”

Qin Zhao’s Nine-pointed Star Badge suddenly shot out an artificial aurora, and a holographic field of wheat descended upon the lab’s dome.

The old academician’s mechanical arm was frantically recording the data stream; even his cufflinks were auto-generating a collaboration agreement.

“This is the first time humanity has ever…” Lin Wan’s voice, choked with static, broke. “Received a complete cultivation data packet for clean seeds!”

“Don’t start crying yet.”

Ji Xiaosong suddenly jabbed her ladle at the holographic screen, singling out a hidden clause. “This ‘compulsory measures may be taken when necessary’ clause isn’t quite appropriate. I hope our collaboration will be based on mutual trust. I’ve also looked you up—your Agricultural Research Institute has always worked hard for the survival of the common people, which is why I’m willing to help you.”

Zhou Lin’s projection instantly dissolved into a million apologetic emoticons: (＞＜;)ゞ

“Rest assured, Miss Ji, we will permanently delete this clause for the duration of our collaboration!”

The fluctuations in Qin Zhao’s voice print triggered a red alert in the lab. “And now, we have synchronized and uploaded it to the Star Network’s public ledger chain!”

Only then did the young woman pour the pickled cabbage soup into a celadon bowl, the liquid swirling at the rim to form the pattern of a galactic nebula.

“Alright. I’ll give you the first batch of sea buckthorn seedlings tomorrow.”