Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 325 - 31: Welcoming and Cleansing

Throughout the spring, Gwivelle had been cultivating new rice varieties in the new experimental fields.

Modern breeding techniques could fail, so many varieties had numbers behind them, and some of these numbers indicated the generation of the cultivated variety.

If luck wasn’t on your side, it was normal to fail a dozen or more times.

Thus, it was best to cultivate in multiple experimental points at once, using quantity to trigger a qualitative change, cultivating one hundred batches of rice seeds at a time—there were bound to be successes.

After all, failure is the mother of success.

But Gwivelle had no possibility of failure.

Even if she did fail, it was only because it did not achieve the expected effects.

For instance, she couldn’t directly cultivate a primitive rice variety into a supreme rice variety; that would definitely result in failure.

The effects she induced were definite, although they were just gradual mutations toward the supreme rice variety, requiring accumulation and sedimentation over generations.

She used the excellent mutated seeds from the number one rice variety to cultivate the number two rice variety.

Then, she used the seeds from the number two rice variety to cultivate the number three rice variety.

In this way, after four or five generations of varieties, the result was superior to those Roman had developed using traditional methods over dozens of generations.

But the disadvantage was that each year’s rice seeds couldn’t be saved for the next planting.

Each year’s rice seeds had to come from the test fields blessed by Gwivelle.

Otherwise, the second generation would experience traits separation, without Gwivelle’s destiny watch over them, all quality traits would regress at high speed, and the yield would significantly decrease.

So this spring, Gwivelle was mainly competing with rice, and she would visit the meadow pasture once a month, impersonating a livestock breeder.

Breeding pigs and sheep were currently not lacking. A breeding pig could be used for two years, as long as it was enough, no need for aggressive iterations.

Improving large species was much more complex than rice.

Roman wanted Gwivelle to bless the breeding horses too.

Mainly warhorses, incidentally blessing the draft horses and donkeys.

In the past two years, Roman had caught a bunch of wild horses, and last year he caught a bunch of wild donkeys, crossbreeding them to produce mules, which had advantages stronger than horses and donkeys.

Her uses were just too many.

After Roman had inspected the general situation in Origin City, it was almost dark.

The Destiny Witch had known his return early and was waiting on the slope leading to the manor, overjoyed to see him.

"Did you miss me?"

"Yes! I missed you so much!" She ran over quickly, jumped up, and hugged Roman like a koala.

But she wasn’t a little kid anymore, now a graceful young girl.

The impact made Roman step back twice, but then another force from behind made his body wobble.

"Ah! Roman!"

Agile legs tightly wrapped around his body, a pair of wheat-colored arms simultaneously clutched both his and Gwivelle’s necks, a bit tightly, sandwiching him between two girls in a triple-decker sandwich pose.

"Hey, Sanna! Weren’t you in the military camp?" Roman turned his face and asked her.

The witches allowed to be intimate with him were only three, and now all were gathered, with Shasta quietly watching from the side.

"I knew you were here, so I took a day off with the sisters!" The fisherwoman smiled brightly, coming closer and taking a deep sniff, a look of immense pleasure on her face. When she used spells, her senses were incredibly sharp - that scent entering her nose felt like it softened her bones...

She suddenly sniffed again, tilting her head in confusion looking at Shasta.

Roman and his personal female witch... their body scents mingling was normal, but wasn’t this too much of a mix?

Sanna didn’t mind too much, then said with some grievance, "You guys go to war without taking me along."

"You’re still growing, and the battlefield is blind to the sword... Stop squeezing, sigh, let’s see when you manage to defeat Kao."

Roman hadn’t seen her for a while.

Those Battle Witches trained her, imparting combat skills.

"Alright! I’ll challenge him to a duel tomorrow, and I’ll beat him up! Beat him until his nose is blue and his face swollen, and spank his butt until it’s broken, leaving him no face to see people!" Sanna said through gritted teeth.

"Sanna, I’ll help you, I’ll make him trip tomorrow! Then you can ambush him!" Gwivelle also waved her arms and shouted.

"Nonsense!" Roman was speechless, he had never seen the actual situation, but he had heard the witches talk about it.

It could only be said that Sanna’s battle results were not ideal.

It was more like she got severely beaten by Kao.

After all, he had invested a lot of resources in Kao, whose strength was in a rapid growth phase, reaching the standards of a third-tier knight, easily defeating all low-level witches.

More importantly, he was ruthless!

For Gwivelle to make Kao trip at a crucial moment was feasible, but wouldn’t that be a pure waste of energy?

Roman was also considering whether to enhance Sanna’s attribute.

After all, she was no longer young and her body was in a swift growth phase.

He walked back to the mansion with two koalas.

"Roman, Roman, how many days are you staying?"

"I’ll leave in a couple of days, there’s too much going on there, and it’s just getting started."

"Eh!" Both witches cried out in dissatisfaction.

"Come on, you’re not young anymore, why are you still so clingy?"

"Just clingy! Just clingy!" "That’s right! That’s right!"

Roman’s head ached.

Facing either of them alone was manageable, but when the two were together, they were utterly lawless, daring to say anything and do anything without any taboo.

But there was no helping it, it was his fault for doting on them.

One was a witch crucial to Origin City, the other his first five-star Angel Envoy.

He was almost at the hall when the two witches reluctantly came down, each clinging to his arm.

"Your Highness, you’re back, greetings to you." Some witches said cheerfully at the table.

They were reliable when handling official matters, but super casual otherwise, which Roman found a bit hard to stand; Sanna had a reasonable excuse for her absence, but what about you?

He hummed faintly, ignoring them, and waved for the maid to bring several barrels of beer.

"Oh, you rarely drink." The witches were surprised.

In their memory, this lord never drank.

"Just consider it a welcome back celebration for me," Roman said.

"Today, beer is unlimited, so enjoy it to the fullest." He wasn’t sure whom he was addressing, but the witches took it upon themselves.

Beer was a fine thing, especially craft beer, delicious indeed!

Unfortunately, it was never provided in large quantities on the mansion’s dining table; they only had their fill during last year’s celebration.

Because Roman felt that drinking too much was not good and also wasted food, a pound of wheat could fill one’s stomach, but brewing it into beer meant a good drinker could consume several pounds of wheat as if it were nothing. Today was an exception for some reason.

In the blink of an eye, the witches, thoroughly enjoying their drinks, danced wildly.

Roman watched coldly and did not stop them.

"Your Highness..." Roman turned his head and saw the wolf-headed witch approach.

"Why don’t you drink a bit?"

"I don’t like to drink." This was a lie; Edith had reminded her, but it wasn’t important.

The wolf-headed witch said, "The Prophet asked if you need more witches?"

This was moving towards establishing a deeper connection; Roman asked, "How many can she provide?"

The wolf-headed witch pondered for a moment: "A hundred, what do you think?"

Roman agreed.

However, a hundred support witches, compared to his current scale, was merely a trifle, perfectly manageable.