The fires burned for seven days and seven nights.
Liu Jian watched from the abandoned observatory as AgroGlobal's distribution centers lit up the horizon like a string of hellish beads. The wind carried the stench of burning grain and melting steel—but beneath it, something else.
The smell of rain on fresh-turned earth.
Mei Ling's fingers dug into his arm as the tablet between them suddenly reactivated, its cracked screen flooding with lines of code no one had inputted.
[ROOT ACCESS RESTORED]
[WELCOME BACK, USER LIU JIAN]
The warehouse walls trembled as the coalition's scavenged servers roared to life, their fans whining like awakened beasts. Xiao Wei stumbled back as holograms erupted from dead terminals—3D models of crop rotations, soil analyses, and... military-grade surveillance maps.
"Since when does farming need satellite tracking?" Old Huang whispered.
Mei Ling's blood ran cold as she recognized the grid patterns—identical to the kill zones from her brother's army days. "This isn't an agricultural system."
Liu Jian's grandfather's journal fell open to a dog-eared page:
"Project Green Shield will protect our breadbasket from any threat—foreign or domestic."
The date: Three months before the Great Grain Famine of 2027.
Victor Lang's private jet circled the burning headquarters as his analysts screamed updates:
"The sterilization reversal is spreading exponentially!"
"Farmers are breaching Research Site Gamma!"
"Sir, the NARI protocols are—"
Lang silenced them with a raised hand. On his lap, a child's drawing showed stick figures farming beside a smiling sun. The corner was signed in clumsy script: For Uncle Victor, from Sophie.
He crushed it in his fist and opened the Blackroot contingency file:
[PROTOCOL PHOENIX: INITIATE REGIONAL STERILIZATION]
The button glowed red.
The abandoned missile silo was overgrown with wheat, its rusted doors pried open by determined roots. Liu Jian's flashlight beam cut through the darkness to reveal row upon row of seed vaults—each stamped with the NARI logo and a single ominous word:
"QUARANTINE."
Mei Ling's boot dislodged a skeleton in a lab coat, its fingers still wrapped around a syringe of vivid blue liquid. The faded ID badge read: Dr. L. Jian, Lead Researcher.
"Grandfather..." Liu Jian fell to his knees as the system's voice echoed through the chamber:
[BIOLOGICAL COUNTERMEASURES DETECTED]
[ACTIVATE CLEANSING CYCLE? Y/N]
Xiao Wei's drone feed suddenly blared to life, showing AgroGlobal crop dusters taking off from hidden airfields.
"They're not running," Mei Ling realized. "They're deploying."
The coalition gathered in the silo's control room as the system's countdown flashed:
[PHOENIX PROTOCOL LAUNCH IN: 00:59:59]
Option 1: Activate the cleansing cycle—purge AgroGlobal's modified crops, but risk wiping out all vegetation in a 500-mile radius.
Option 2: Manual override—send teams to shoot down the crop dusters, guaranteeing bloody confrontation.
Option 3: The Jian Gambit—use the system's hidden military protocols to hack AgroGlobal's fleet, turning their weapons against them.
Old Huang placed a hand on Liu Jian's shoulder. "Your grandfather's ghosts are asking for payment."
Outside, the first acid rain began to fall.
The drops burned through Xiao Wei's jacket before anyone realized what was happening. He screamed as his forearm blistered and blackened, the flesh sloughing off to reveal bone.
"Not rain!" Mei Ling dragged him inside. "Pre-sterilization spray!"
The system's alert was chillingly calm:
[PHOENIX PROTOCOL STAGE 1 INITIATED]
[ESTIMATED FOOD CHAIN COLLAPSE: 72 HOURS]
Liu Jian stared at his grandfather's skeleton—then at the glowing blue vial still clutched in its hands.
The label read: "Cure."
The holograms flickered, shifting to a feed of the burning fields. AgroGlobal's sterilized crops wilted in the flames, but the native soil… remained untouched.
Mei Ling's eyes widened. "The reversal is working. The land is rejecting Blackroot."
Old Huang exhaled shakily. "But will it be enough?"
Xiao Wei, weak from the toxins, coughed. "If we don't stop those crop dusters… it won't matter."
Liu Jian clenched his fists. He turned back to the terminal. "We won't just stop them." He tapped the interface, accessing buried commands. "We'll make them undo their own work."
A final prompt appeared:
[CONFIRM SYSTEM TAKEOVER?]
Liu Jian hesitated for half a second—then pressed YES.
Miles away, AgroGlobal's fleet veered wildly in the sky. Control systems overridden. The same chemicals meant to sterilize the land were now being dumped onto AgroGlobal's own infrastructure.
Victor Lang's jet banked sharply as alarms blared. "Sir! Our fleet—"
Lang's expression remained unreadable as he watched his empire collapse in real-time. His hand hovered over the failsafe—
[EMERGENCY OVERRIDE: LAUNCH REMAINING PAYLOADS]
He looked down at Sophie's drawing, now damp from sweat.
For the first time in decades, Victor Lang hesitated.
The coalition emerged as the first rays of morning pierced the smoke. The land was scarred, the air thick with ash and the acrid scent of burned chemicals.
Mei Ling clutched a single unburnt stalk of wheat. "It survived."
Liu Jian collapsed to his knees, exhaustion finally overtaking him. The war was not over—but for the first time, it felt like they had a chance.
The system's final message blinked on the cracked tablet screen:
[CYCLE RESET COMPLETE]
[THE LAND ENDURES.]