The morning sky was overcast, with thick clouds looming like cotton soaked in ink. Lin Feng stood at the edge of his Chen Valley farmland, examining the moisture on the leaves. The rain last night had been light, but steady—a good sign for his newly sprouted herbs.
These weren't medicinal, but rare culinary ones: purple perilla, lemon thyme, and a crisp variant of spring onion imported discreetly from Taiwan.
They would play a pivotal role in his next market move: high-end restaurant supply.
But today wasn't about farming. It was about cleaning shadows that were slowly creeping toward him.
---
Lin Feng returned to the village square that afternoon for a "coincidental" meeting with Old Qian, the semi-retired logistics supervisor who knew everyone worth knowing in three counties.
They met under the guise of buying replacement brake pads for Lin Feng's truck.
"Young Feng, I've heard something," Old Qian murmured as they stood behind the dusty repair shed. "Someone's sniffing around about 'independent organic suppliers'. Not government. Not media. Private."
Lin Feng didn't flinch. "How private?"
"Capital City plates. Came in quiet, left without speaking to officials. Just asking around. Showed interest in 'Chen Valley quality products.'"
Lin Feng tapped a finger against the side of the truck, his mind racing. He had kept a low profile. Product listings never bore his name, and his deliveries were routed through a chain of shell companies and third-party vendors.
So this wasn't coincidence—it was targeted interest.
Possibly a rival. Possibly someone who had tasted the quality and couldn't believe it came from a no-name source.
Either way, it meant one thing: they were too close.
---
That night in the inner realm, Lin Feng sat at a desk made from polished mahogany he'd harvested months ago. Under the glow of a warm lantern, he spread out a sheet of hand-drawn organizational structure.
Chen Valley Agricultural Products Co., Ltd. – not linked to his real ID.
Sunshine Logistics – managed by Liu Ying's cousin, used for transit.
Five "farmer cooperatives" on record – real staff, fake ownership.
RuralCloud E-Market storefront – coded under a third-party IP and name.
Private warehouse near Qinghe County – hidden under a fishing gear export license.
Lin Feng drew lines between entities, trimming connections.
Then he circled a new plan:
Firebrand Strategy – Create Smoke.
He would fabricate a rival.
---
Three days later, rumors began circulating in farming WeChat groups and online agri-forums:
> "Have you heard of Rising Soil Collective?" "Some say they use drone irrigation in the mountains." "They hired a chef from a Michelin restaurant to design their planting."
All lies. All planted by Lin Feng.
He even uploaded two "accidental" photos of exotic packaging—mock designs with gold-stamped logos and forested backgrounds, tagged with a southern province location.
He paid for a few forum accounts to argue heatedly.
> "They're clearly laundering foreign goods!" "Nonsense! My cousin's friend worked for them. Said they're geniuses."
Within a week, interest shifted away from Chen Valley. Several private trackers began investigating Rising Soil instead.
By the time they realized it was smoke and mirrors, Lin Feng's real operations would be deepened, veiled, and strengthened.
---
Meanwhile, the real expansion continued.
Liu Ying had finally secured access to an abandoned fruit processing plant two towns over. The previous owner had died with no heirs, and the legal status was murky.
Lin Feng bought it discreetly for a fraction of its market value.
He stood in the cavernous main room—rusty equipment, cracked tiles, and walls covered in dust and bird droppings.
It didn't matter. What mattered was the infrastructure: three walk-in freezers, underground storage space, and direct truck access.
Over the next few weeks, this place would be cleaned, renovated, and transformed into his central distribution node.
---
Back in the inner realm, the strawberry plants were flowering under artificial light. Lin Feng crouched to brush his fingers over the soft petals.
"Soon," he whispered.
He'd already designed the packaging—simple glass boxes with protective foam lining and a gold-stamped card reading:
> "Chen Valley Reserve – Spring Ruby Strawberry. Picked with morning dew."
Each box would sell for ten times the price of ordinary strawberries.
But only twenty boxes would be released during the first wave.
Exclusivity was its own currency.
---
Zhao Yun also brought news.
"The food blogger we reached out to—he agreed."
Lin Feng raised an eyebrow.
"He wants to come for a tasting session next week. Private invite. No public post unless we approve the content."
"Good. Make it simple. One dish, one drink, one walk through the field."
Zhao Yun grinned. "I was thinking a three-course—"
"No. Simple," Lin Feng interrupted. "Let the quality speak. The less effort we show, the more authentic it feels."
"Got it," she said, noting it down.
Lin Feng had learned this long ago from observing marketing cycles: understated truth beats overstated fiction.
If someone tried to scream how "organic" they were, the audience became suspicious.
But if a story spread that someone quietly grew the sweetest carrots in three provinces, interest skyrocketed.
He wasn't building a business.
He was cultivating a myth.
---
A week later, Lin Feng met the blogger—real name Chen Yuxin, online alias "BitterMelonGuy."
He was surprisingly quiet in person, thin, with a serious gaze and professional equipment.
Zhao Yun guided the tasting.
First: stir-fried baby greens with sesame oil.
Second: steamed fish with citrus herbs.
Dessert: strawberry sorbet with a hint of perilla.
Afterward, Chen Yuxin walked the field, camera on hand, but didn't film much. He simply observed.
Lin Feng joined him by the riverbank.
"You don't talk much," he remarked.
Chen Yuxin smiled slightly. "Flavor doesn't lie. I only talk when I can't explain what I tasted."
That was high praise in his world.
Two days later, a post went viral on niche food forums:
> "Found a hidden farm that sells greens fresher than Tokyo's morning market. Won't tell you where. Just know that someone out there cares more about the land than the money."
No name. No photos. Just whispers.
Perfect.
---
Lin Feng then turned his attention to rural tech.
In the inner realm, he had been running experimental tests with modified solar panels.
He now had a working prototype of a low-light, high-yield battery unit using materials mined in the cave sector of his space.
This unit could power five water pumps or two greenhouses for 24 hours on one day's charge.
Outside, he worked with a village electrician to "restore" a forgotten solar installation on a public well.
He installed the real tech inside the casing but labeled it as "donated parts from an NGO."
It became the first field test of his tech.
Within weeks, the village reported better pump pressure and lower electric bills.
Two nearby villages began asking about it.
He smiled.
When the time came, he wouldn't just sell produce—he would sell the means to grow it.
---
One evening, Xu Yuhan called again.
This time, her tone was softer. Warmer.
"Feng, I've been thinking. When we were walking through your field, it felt like I was seeing the future... Not just of food, but of people. Do you ever think about scaling that vision?"
Lin Feng leaned back, his eyes scanning the golden sky of the inner realm.
"I do. But not like others. I want roots, not wings."
She was silent for a moment.
Then she said, "I'd like to help. Not with marketing. But with... the human part."
Lin Feng's heart stirred.
"You already are," he replied.
They didn't speak further that night, but something invisible had shifted.
Not business. Not logistics.
Trust.
---
One final issue remained.
The land inspector from County South had postponed their visit twice, citing "schedule conflicts."
But Lin Feng had sources.
He discovered the truth: the inspector had been approached by a mid-level business family in the region, the Zhao Clan, offering a bribe to dig up land-use violations against independent farms.
Lin Feng smiled coldly.
He packed two crates:
1. One full of the largest, most perfect cucumbers and a bottle of homemade chili oil.
2. The other containing files—leases, photos, soil certificates, drone images, timestamped deliveries.
He sent them to the inspector's office with a handwritten note:
> "From the Chen Valley Co-op. For your health and records. Have a refreshing day."
Two days later, the inspector announced they had cleared the visit.
Threat neutralized—without confrontation.
---
By the end of the month:
His strawberries sold out in under three hours.
The false "Rising Soil Collective" had five blog posts tracking their 'hidden location'.
Village farmers began whispering about "Chen Valley water" improving soil.
And Lin Feng's secret solar unit had already powered a record dry-season harvest.
As he walked through his greenhouse under the soft golden glow of the inner realm, Lin Feng whispered:
"This is how you build an empire no one sees... until it's already grown beyond their reach."
---
End of Chapter 17