Chapter 2

Long Cheng settled down at Xinghai Farm, a small farm with only twelve households.

Grandma was the oldest person on the farm.

In the past, Long Cheng thought the orphanage was the best place in the world. Now he knew there was a place even better than the orphanage, and that was Xinghai Farm. Grandma said this was his new home.

Long Cheng didn't say anything. He didn't tell Grandma that he had never had a home.

So this wasn't his new home; it was his home.

Grandma always put a lot of meat in his bowl, saying he was too thin and would be blown over by the wind. After meals, there were many fruits, which he could only eat during the New Year at the orphanage. He liked apples, crunching and crunching, they were fragrant and sweet.

Grandma said apples were for peace, and eating them would bring peace and safety.

Long Cheng liked apples even more. This one was for himself, crunching and crunching, and this one was for Grandma, crunching and crunching.

He decided to eat apples every day so that Grandma would always be safe and sound.

He loved the farm so much, and everyone was very kind to him. Aunt Liu would bring over baked pancakes, smiling as she watched him eat. Aunt Xiaoyue's steamed cake was sweet and sticky. Uncle Gen, who always laughed foolishly, even tricked Long Cheng into thinking chili peppers were fruits, which made everyone laugh for a long time. But Long Cheng actually thought chili peppers tasted pretty good.

Long Cheng remembered the director's instructions. He took a bath every day and was very clean. He was very diligent and willing to do any work.

At first, he did some simple tasks until he saw Uncle Gen driving the "Hot" iron machine, effortlessly digging a deep trench with the bucket and plowing the soil with the iron plow.

Seeing Long Cheng's curious expression, Uncle Gen, somewhat proudly, asked if he had ever seen one before.

Long Cheng said he hadn't.

Uncle Gen said it was a light armor.

Long Cheng was surprised. This was a light armor?

The iron machine in front of him was far from what Long Cheng knew as a light armor. It was about fifteen meters tall, very wide and sturdy, with a humanoid torso and head but no hands. Instead, it had a bucket, a sharp plow, a pile driver, and tracks. There were two thick pillars on its back, which seemed to be hollow.

Long Cheng also saw it move on all fours, the tracks moving quickly, like a wild beast sliding on the ground with sleds.

Uncle Gen looked proud. "Yes, it's a light armor, an agricultural light armor!"

"The Farming King-98," a classic product launched by Xingxing Machinery Factory in 3998, with comprehensive functions, durable, and popular for ten years. Uncle Gen bought it when it was first on the market, spending almost all his savings. He was the best farmer on the farm at driving agricultural light armors.

But now it was 4019.

Long Cheng's expression pleased Uncle Gen. It was rare to see other expressions on Long Cheng's face, as the thin and quiet boy was somewhat too introverted.

Long Cheng pointed to the two large pillars on the back of the light armor and asked Uncle Gen what they were for.

Uncle Gen said they were water tanks, used to hold liquid or nutrients for spraying plants.

Long Cheng nodded.

Seeing Long Cheng return to his usual呆滞 state, Uncle Gen encouraged him to try it out.

Long Cheng shook his head, saying he didn't know how.

Uncle Gen said it was fine, just to experience it, and he would be there to watch.

Before he finished speaking, Uncle Gen opened the cockpit of the "Farming King" and pulled Long Cheng over.

Long Cheng instinctively moved away, and Uncle Gen missed.

Uncle Gen was a bit surprised but didn't pay much attention, thinking Long Cheng was indeed timid. He walked ahead, encouraging Long Cheng that it was fine, not to be afraid.

Long Cheng hesitated for a moment, then followed and climbed into the cockpit.

Inside the cockpit, Long Cheng was now certain that this was indeed a light armor.

The most rudimentary and dilapidated light armor he had ever seen.

The brain control device clearly showed the exposed wires, which had discolored over time, reminding him of the abandoned light armors they used for repair classes in the training camp. There was no integrated hydraulic buffer system, but an old-style hard seat, with only half the leather remaining. In front of the seat were three metal buttons, worn shiny from frequent use.

The cockpit was more spacious than a regular light armor. Long Cheng sat in the driver's seat, and Uncle Gen still had room to stand beside him.

Once he sat down, Long Cheng no longer heard Uncle Gen's words. A familiar feeling suddenly surged, and he felt inexplicably excited. The training light armors in the training camp were much more advanced than the "Farming King."

Long Cheng put on the brain control device, and his vision changed.

For two years in the orphanage, he hadn't touched a light armor, almost forgetting he could drive one.

Uncle Gen kept talking, explaining the functions of the buttons, the modes, and what to do in special situations...

The light armor moved.

Uncle Gen's voice stopped.

Wearing the brain control device, Long Cheng forgot about Uncle Gen's existence. He moved the light armor's limbs, hearing the creaking sounds, feeling the resistance from the joints, as if they were rusty.

He mentally noted the joints with more resistance, indicating rust, which needed oil.

Uncle Gen held onto the back of the seat, watching the "Farming King" move forward under Long Cheng's control. At first, the light armor shook violently, and Uncle Gen had to hold on tightly to keep his balance. But soon, the vibrations decreased, and it moved smoothly, as if sliding on the ground.

This performance stunned Uncle Gen, and he swallowed his prepared long speech.

He opened his mouth but made no sound.

Long Cheng was completely absorbed, pulling up the detailed specifications and parameters of the "Farming King" from the system.

It had no energy armor to resist energy weapons, no weapons, no human-like but stronger polymer fiber bundles, and only a pitiful single engine, capable of only 150 kilometers per hour low-speed flight...

The only thing that didn't seem so bad was its energy core. The R6 energy core, with a power output of SP-2, was slightly higher than that of a typical entry-level combat light armor. The powerful engine allowed it to easily crush hard rocks.

The R6 energy core was widely used in various agricultural light armors, with many advantages: cheap, powerful, reliable, and easy to maintain. After twenty years, the power output had only decreased by ten percent, and its reliability was excellent.

However, in the field of combat light armors, the R6 was rarely seen because it took a full minute to reach full power, which was too long for the fast-changing battle scenarios.

Long Cheng didn't care; Uncle Gen had said it was an agricultural light armor.

The "Farming King" had three modes: flight mode, track mode, and bipedal mode.

Flight mode was mainly for spraying liquids and nutrients, track mode for deep plowing and harvesting, and bipedal mode for handling complex terrain and various tasks, such as crushing rocks and moving heavy objects.

Long Cheng found it very interesting, much more so than the light armors in the training camp, which were only for killing.

He decided to try the track mode, which was rarely seen on other light armors.

With a click, the "Farming King" switched to track mode, moving on all fours like a roaring giant beast. Long Cheng noticed the system reminding him to lower the plow, and he did. The "Farming King" cut through the soil like slicing tofu.

Long Cheng's eyes sparkled; the light armors he had driven before didn't have this function.

He found the target field Uncle Gen had set in the system and started working.

Half an hour later, all the targets in the system were plowed.

Long Cheng felt a bit unsatisfied, and Uncle Gen's voice came from behind, asking if he had been a farmer before.

Long Cheng realized he had forgotten about Uncle Gen and stammered, saying no.

Uncle Gen asked if it was his first time operating it.

Long Cheng nodded, feeling uneasy, thinking he had made a mistake. Without Uncle Gen's permission, he had plowed Uncle Gen's field. Would Uncle Gen be angry?

Uncle Gen's expression was strange.

Long Cheng felt even more uneasy, lowering his head, thinking he might not have dinner tonight for making a mistake.

Uncle Gen muttered something, looking a bit disappointed, and jumped out of the cockpit, heading back to the farm.

The sun was glaring, and Long Cheng felt a sense of loneliness in Uncle Gen's back.

Long Cheng felt he had really done something wrong, but strangely, Grandma cooked a pot of meat for dinner and didn't punish him.

The next day, Uncle Gen brought Long Cheng to another field, demonstrating how to dig a pile hole, then jumped down and gestured for Long Cheng to try.

Long Cheng shook his head, remembering Uncle Gen's back from the previous day.

Uncle Gen asked why.

Long Cheng said he didn't want Uncle Gen to be angry.

Uncle Gen said he wouldn't be angry if Long Cheng could dig a qualified pile hole.

Long Cheng looked at Uncle Gen seriously, "Really?"

Uncle Gen grinned and said, "Of course, really."

Without a word, Long Cheng climbed into the "Farming King" cockpit.

He dug ten standard pile holes in one go, each precise enough to be measured with a ruler.

That day, Uncle Gen gave the "Farming King" to Long Cheng.

From then on, Uncle Gen never operated it again, relieved that someone could take over his hard work. Each time he got off the "Farming King," his bottom was sore. He sighed, feeling old and less resilient.

The "Farming King," once clumsy, was now agile and obedient under Long Cheng's control. Grandma praised Long Cheng, saying the "Farming King" danced like a dancer.

Uncle Gen said Long Cheng was a farming genius.

Whenever Long Cheng helped them farm, the villagers would sit in a row on the field ridges, watching with great interest.

"Really beautiful, look at the lines, so straight, straighter than a ruler!"

"Great! Long Cheng is a farming expert!"

"Ah, if my son could do this, I'd die happy."

"You're a bachelor, where did you get a son?"

Everyone liked to praise Long Cheng loudly. Whenever this happened, Long Cheng would blush and be at a loss, and they would laugh, saying how cute he was, like a girl.

Everyone knew Long Cheng liked apples, so he learned that besides red apples, there were green apples, yellow apples, crisp apples, and sandy apples, even small apples as big as eggs.

Long Cheng was very happy, eager to help everyone farm. He suddenly realized that the skills he learned in the training camp weren't useless, and they were more suitable for farming than killing.

Every day was busy, but Long Cheng felt fulfilled, and the apples mixed with sweat tasted even sweeter.

When the last field was plowed, the farm held a grand celebration, and everyone's face was filled with smiles. The deep plowing and pile holes were completed fifteen days ahead of schedule, giving them more time to prepare for seedling cultivation and transplanting.

Long Cheng bit into an apple, feeling a bit disappointed that the farming was over so quickly.

But when he saw everyone's smiles, his mood improved. He was happy to bring smiles to everyone. Crunching and crunching, he bit into the apple, thinking that with the farming done, he could learn to help with other tasks.

Long Cheng's beautiful dream was shattered by a notice.

According to federal law, Long Cheng, being under eighteen, must attend school. If the adoptive family did not arrange for Long Cheng to attend school by the 30th of this month, they would lose the adoption rights.

No one on the farm had ever adopted an orphan, and they hadn't thought about the issue of schooling. Grandma, however, was happy, thinking Long Cheng should attend school and learn more skills. She asked Uncle Gen to go to the nearby city to find a good school and was willing to use her savings to support Long Cheng's education.

Grandma said school was a place to learn skills, and Long Cheng understood that school was like the training camp.

The instructors always said the training camp was a place to learn skills.

Long Cheng was afraid of the training camp, where he would be hungry, whipped, and forced to kill. But if he didn't attend school, he couldn't stay with Grandma or on the farm.

Long Cheng thought about it all night, and the next morning, he told Grandma he would go to the training camp.

"Yes, it's called school."

Grandma was happy and told Long Cheng to learn well.

Long Cheng nodded and said he understood.

Dusty and tired, Uncle Gen returned, his face grim, bringing bad news. Because Long Cheng had no educational background and no test scores, almost all schools refused to admit him.

Only one school was willing to accept students without test scores: Fengren Light Armor Academy.

Everyone gathered at Grandma's house, and when they heard the name, they all gasped and opposed it.

"Heaven! A madhouse! Can't go!"

"Absolutely can't go! You'll die there! A child from Yushan Farm went there, broke his leg, couldn't afford treatment, and is now disabled."

"Let's find another school. No matter what, we can't send him to the madhouse!"

Everyone spoke in a flurry, showing their fear of the training camp, or rather, the school. It was said that Fengren Light Armor Academy gathered the most rebellious and unruly teenagers from the area, extremely dangerous, and was known as the "madhouse" and "death school," infamous throughout the entire Xingxing planet. Each student had to sign various liability waivers before enrollment.

Listening to everyone's descriptions, Long Cheng understood that it was a super training camp for survivors and experts from various training camps.

Long Cheng's heart sank, and he felt a chill in his limbs.

There were only two days left until the 30th, and there was no time to find a new school.

Seeing the worry on Grandma's face, he suddenly felt less afraid.

He didn't want to leave the farm, his first home.

Long Cheng stopped everyone's arguments and told them he had decided to go to Fengren Light Armor Academy.

The instructors said he was a natural-born killer, the strongest assassin.

He was afraid, but not of anyone.

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