Chapter 421: Survival of the Fittest
Tens of millions of mudfish darted around in the semi-murky ponds.
A few large catfish herded them, forcing them to flee constantly.
It was thanks to their vitality that the gathered mudfish remained lively and energetic.
With hands on his hips, Bobo proudly introduced his labor achievements to everyone:
"These breeding pools—currently, there are four around the Swamp Fortress, distributed between the stronghold and the castle surroundings."
"Last year, we didn't harvest but instead used them entirely for breeding and reproduction. This year, we can finally start harvesting."
"We expect to collect 3,000 tons of mudfish. Over there is the blackfish breeding area."
"Blackfish production is smaller, estimated at around 400 tons—just enough for the children's annual consumption."
Hearing this, the druid trainees curiously looked over, many suddenly realizing:
"So, the fish we eat every day comes from here?"
"Blackfish tastes amazing! It reminds me of pickled fish... slurp..."
"What do these mudfish eat normally?"
"Processed kitchen waste."
"No, more precisely, it's small bugs cultivated from the kitchen waste."
"How do you know that?"
"I saw it, over there."
"Ugh... it smells so strong..."
"That's nothing. Remember when we were told to save fish bones after meals?"
"Do you know where they go?"
"Of course! Some go to the kobolds, and some to the konjac planting areas."
"..."
Elona listened to their conversation, secretly delighted.
A few days ago, Steward Ralph had mentioned that the territory had acquired another batch of half-elf slaves.
This time, there were thousands, including a significant number of children.
She wasn't worried about the adults. In Bay Territory, as long as one worked hard, everyone could live well.
But children were different. She hoped they could adapt to life in the Bay Territory.
With this in mind, Elona carefully resumed her recordings.
Matthew waved everyone over, speaking softly with anticipation:
"For now, these mudfish and blackfish breeding areas don't cover the entire Misty Swamp."
"But as their numbers grow, it's up to everyone to cultivate even better breeds."
"Higher yields, better meat quality, richer flavors—whatever makes them more popular is the direction of your efforts."
"..."
Many druids, intrigued, gathered eagerly, examining the darting fish with curiosity.
They deeply understood the lord's true meaning behind the phrase "depend on the mountains to eat from the mountains, depend on the water to eat from the water."
It wasn't about exploiting existing resources but selecting worthwhile species to cultivate and scale up as industries.
Through constant improvement, these species would become as valuable as factory-produced goods.
Seeing the vibrant energy of the young trainees, Matthew felt immense satisfaction.
Young people were great; with enough incentives and lofty goals painted, they would charge forward enthusiastically.
Such excellent tools!
They must live well, dress well, eat well, and not be troubled by trivial life matters—all to contribute more significantly to the territory's development.
For now, this was just the first batch. In the future, even more spirited youth would join the "tool army."
Thinking this, Matthew couldn't help but smile.
Of course, those eager mouths would also need proper feeding.
Bobo meticulously introduced the ponds' basic conditions and the data on mudfish and blackfish.
Confirming their interest, his large eyes glinted slyly before he laughed and waved them over:
"Come on, I'll take you to see other swamp crocodiles."
Feeling both terrified and cautious, Old Six nervously shuffled to the roadside.
Matthew led the group forward, marveling at the rows of gaping crocodile mouths around them, their expressions a mix of delight and curiosity.
Captain Sean noticed the fear in the swamp crocodiles' eyes and had many thoughts.
"Could it be that each of these swamp crocodiles possesses intelligence?"
"That's impossible, right?"
Bobo waved at the swamp crocodiles, signaling them to follow. Seeing the druids' curious gazes, he casually remarked:
"Most swamp crocodiles are dumb, like wild beasts. Unless they're exceptionally gifted, their ultimate fate is becoming a product."
"However, some swamp crocodiles are intelligent enough to understand commands and communicate..."
Listening to Bobo's explanation, many druids became intrigued by the swamp crocodiles.
These massive, powerful, magical creatures, whose challenge levels exceeded their imagination, were merely "livestock" for the territory?
After half an hour of travel,
they passed several misty and marshy areas. Without the swamp crocodiles leading, no one could have navigated the way.
Observant Elona noticed numerous murlocs darting beneath the marsh, guiding blackfish toward the swamp crocodile regions.
"Indeed, this is part of the cycle..."
Just as Elona was marveling, Bobo, in high spirits, pointed to a bustling water zone ahead and said:
"We're here. Pay attention; the duller swamp crocodiles eat and sleep."
"The smarter ones find others to fight and leave this 'eat-and-wait-to-die' zone."
Meeting everyone's puzzled looks, Bobo coughed meaningfully and said:
"Living a lazy life may be comfortable, but it never leads to significant growth."
"As we advocate in Bay Territory: only through continuous striving and pioneering can one change their fate and embark on a new journey."
Everyone nodded, some understanding more than others.
The more perceptive Elona couldn't help sharing her insights:
"Think about past experiences. Carefree childhoods didn't teach us much."
"Likewise, overly rich nutrients can degrade the quality of magical plants we cultivate."
"Providing them with just enough to venture out actually yields better fruits and blossoms."
Seeing others' enlightened expressions, Elona silently whispered to herself:
"But only Bay Territory can achieve this..."