A while later, when the novelty had worn off, Mun finally realized he was still sitting on the Snow Wolf person’s lap and immediately jumped down.
But the potato and the water ball were still on Eric’s lap.
Mun lowered his body, hesitating for a long time. Seeing that Eric had no reaction, he poked his head out and carefully snatched the piece of potato with his mouth.
Thinking back and feeling regretful about the water ball, the little guy stood up straight again, stole a glance at the Snow Wolf person, and then used his paws to hug the water ball. After succeeding, he was overjoyed and waddled away on his hind legs.
Eric saw it all, and the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but curl into a smile, feeling a bit regretful that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to pet him a few more times.
The potatoes, once cut, had to be left for another two days before they could be planted. Eric thought of a rustic method; he stood up to find a small cart and pulled a cart of kitchen ash over.
Kitchen ash was indeed a good thing. Eric exclaimed once again; its uses were too numerous, and the tribe was not lacking in this substance at all.
The beastmen piled the cut potato pieces to one side. Eric poured the kitchen ash over them, then began to mix them vigorously, trying to coat each piece of potato with a layer of ash.
Doing this could not only prevent the potatoes from rotting but also kill bacteria, prevent pests, and promote root development.
There were no fertilizers or pesticides here, so Eric could only come up with this rustic method. This was how it was done in the countryside in the past, and the results weren’t bad.
About two days later, when the surface of the potato pieces was a bit drier, they could be planted in the ground.
It was already time to plant potatoes. The climate in the Hadu tribe was quite similar to the North in his past life. If the weather warmed up a bit earlier, they could be planted a month or two in advance.
The Red Grass tribe, where the Ox-Head tribe lived, although not like spring all year round, had a better temperature than the Hadu tribe, and winter was not as cold.
If they farmed, they would also have an advantage. Like wheat, Eric estimated that the Hadu tribe here could get at most two crops a year, while the Red Grass tribe could get three crops a year. Coupled with the Ox-Head tribe’s long-standing farming skills, the yield per acre of their fields was also very large.
Perhaps the potato sprouts of the Red Grass tribe had already grown tall by now, while their Hadu tribe was only just beginning to plant.
In addition to cutting potatoes, they also had to speed up the rice seedling nursery these past few days. Waiting until it was time to transplant the seedlings, just thinking about it made Eric feel a dull ache in his back. Growing rice was relatively troublesome; besides needing paddy fields and maintaining irrigation, one had to sow seedlings first, and wait until planting time to transplant them.
Practice was indeed more tiring and troublesome than imagination. This year he planned to plant not too many varieties; later, if he could exchange for cotton seeds, growing cotton would not be an easy job either.
The beastmen watched Eric’s actions with hearts full of questions. At first, they thought this was for cooking, wondering why so many potatoes had to be cut. They couldn’t eat them all; was this tribe so wealthy that they wasted food?
Some were smarter; when Eric told them to cut the potatoes according to the sprout eyes, they had already guessed in their hearts whether it was for farming. It was just, could potatoes really still live after being cut? These beastmen didn’t dare to speak up and ask, so they had to work seriously on the side.
...
"Mun, you’re finally back! How was it, you didn’t cause any trouble, did you? I told you not to always be so hasty. You’re over twenty years old, why are you still so disobedient..."
Mun held the potato in his mouth, his front paws hugging the water ball. As soon as he entered the tent, he was grabbed by the anxious Tam and had to listen to a miserable lecture for a long time.
Speaking until his throat was dry, Tam was about to find some water to drink when he saw Mun looking like it went in one ear and out the other, and immediately became furious.
"Look at you, what benefit is there in provoking the Snow Wolf person? It was hard enough for you, the only beast cub, to escape. Can’t you be quiet for a bit! By the way, what is that in your hand?"
Tam scolded for a long time, then his eyes moved from Mun’s face to the potato in his mouth and the round water ball in his claws, asking curiously.
This mischievous brat, where on earth did he get these things?
Tam thought in surprise. He understood this child very well; although Mun was mischievous, he wouldn’t steal other people’s things. And never mind the potato, the water ball in his hand was obviously magic.
Mun guiltily lowered his ears, placed the potato in his mouth down on a piece of animal skin, and whispered: "These things were given to me by the tribe’s Little Patriarch..."
Tam’s eyes went dark: "What, you actually ran to someone else’s patriarch?"
"I didn’t, I just wanted to see what he was doing, who knew I would be discovered by him." Mun retorted loudly, his voice getting smaller and smaller towards the end, and his head lowered.
"You and your nonsense, what did he say?" Tam felt resentful that iron couldn’t become steel and poked the little black cat’s head hard, causing the fur on Mun’s head to dent into a distinct finger mark.
Mun guiltily covered his face with one claw, the other hand still determinedly not letting go of the beloved water ball: "He gave me potatoes to eat, and also gave me this."
It seemed the other party wasn’t angry. Tam looked at the things in Mun’s hands, just finding it very strange. He didn’t know why this water ball didn’t break, and how could a beastman know magic?
Over on Eric’s side, the mountain of potatoes had been half-cut. He went to push the kitchen ash again and met Balu. This Ox-Head tribe fellow was intending to go to the Dwarves to visit the well-digging, and seeing Eric, he ran over enthusiastically.
"Little Patriarch, what are you pushing this pile of ash for?"
Eric put down the small cart: "We’re about to plant potatoes. I’ve brought some small-type beastmen to cut the potatoes; this pile of ash is to coat the outside of the potato pieces."
"Cut potatoes?" Balu asked in confusion.
Why did he understand every word this Little Patriarch said, but when put together, it was so strange? Why did planting potatoes require cutting? Wouldn’t potatoes die if cut?
Eric guessed that planting potatoes here must still involve planting the whole tuber, so he patiently explained to him for a long time.
The Ox-Head tribe knew how to farm, so explaining to them was understandable. As for the small-type beastmen, Eric didn’t speak in too much detail; they would naturally know when it came time to plant.
But although Balu understood, he couldn’t help but wonder: "Little Patriarch, are you telling the truth? Can potatoes still live after being cut? And every piece can grow new potatoes?"
This really overturned his cognition a bit. If any Ox-Head person came over, they would be just as surprised.
Eric nodded and didn’t say much; anyway, it would only be a few days before the potatoes were planted in the ground, and they would soon know if they lived or not.
"Alright then, you can always come up with such magical ideas. By the way, you can cut a little less to test; it would be terrible if they didn’t live." Balu shook his head and advised.
Although the Little Patriarch was always very magical, this was no joke. If these seeds were all cut up and didn’t survive, wouldn’t that be a waste?
"It’s okay, they can definitely live. Besides, I’ve already told them over there to cut them all; it will be done soon."
Eric couldn’t very well say that everyone planted like this in his past life, so he had to affirm decisively.
Balu frowned with heartache.
Why was the Hadu tribe so casual?
If it were in the Red Grass tribe, if any child dared to ruin such precious seeds, their legs would definitely be broken by the adults.
But who told Eric to be the Little Patriarch?
Thomas and Joseph, the two patriarchs he knew, didn’t know what they were busy with, yet they confidently handed such a large tribe over to a child.
Now he only hoped that the cut potatoes could also live.
Otherwise, this season, even the Red Grass tribe wouldn’t be able to trade that many more potatoes to the Hadu tribe for seeds.