At noon, the sun hung high in the sky, scorching the earth below.
Forty acres of Sanqi saplings and ten acres of Atractylodes saplings, all lay dead on the ground.
Li Yuru had an emotional breakdown, her head lowered, not saying a word.
Chu Yang's face was so grim that it seemed he could wring water from it, the miracle he had hoped for hadn't appeared.
Forty acres of Sanqi and Atractylodes saplings died right before his eyes, and a surge of rage bubbled up in Chu Yang's heart.
In Yunxi Village, aside from Wang Dehong and Wang Chengcai, Chu Yang had never truly made life difficult for anyone.
Moreover, in treating the villagers' illnesses, Chu Yang never charged a consultation fee, and as for the cost of medicines, it was only a few yuan, perhaps ten yuan or so for the more expensive treatments.
The fact that someone had sprayed pesticide and killed the forty acres of saplings was utterly disheartening to Chu Yang.
