Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 174 - 11: The Errors of the Times

Chapter 174: Chapter 11: The Errors of the Times

The sky was overcast, drizzling with fine rain.

Wearing a straw hat and draped in a cloak, Roman gazed at the shrubbery before him.

The locals called it wild sour jujube, but the fruit was inedible. Only cattle and sheep could consume it, and it was widespread, ubiquitous.

A sickle couldn’t cut through it—it had to be chopped several times with a heavy knife to sever it.

After wintering, the above-ground plant tissue entirely died, but the root system in the soil beneath remained alive, exhibiting great tenacity.

Roman strained to pull out the shrub.

The surrounding soil first bulged, then cracked, and finally shattered.

The dense roots, when exposed to air, clung to clods of soil like large tumors, which Roman held in his hand.

His palms were protected by a layer of tough calluses, shielding him from the friction and force, but the back of his hand still suffered the shrub’s dying retaliation.

A wood thorn stuck into his flesh, and Roman brought the back of his hand to his mouth, sucked out the broken wood thorn, and then spat out the bloodstained saliva. He crouched down to observe the soil structure of the land, pondering its suitability for cultivation.

...

Soil is generally categorized as sandy soil, loam, or clay soil.

Loam is the best.

It is loose in texture, breathable, permeable, and has strong water and nutrient retention.

With just a bit of cultivation and sowing of seeds, the yield is usually not bad—it is the Chosen Land of agricultural civilizations.

In Roman’s memory, only the expansive lands of the Duke Domain inclined toward loam, with a planting to harvest ratio ranging from 1:5 to 1:12, all within a reasonable scope.

That’s because fertile lands yield higher production than other areas.

However, the land before him was not loam.

The top layer was packed sandy soil, about several inches thick.

Deep below was cohesive clay soil.

The characteristic of sandy soil is its extremely poor water retention.

This sparse su drizzle had accumulated countless small puddles on this barren land, and even if it seeped down, it hardly stayed in the sandy layer.

The deep clay soil had its unique characteristics.

The advantages were strong water and nutrient retention, with high potential fertility.

The drawbacks were its high moisture and water content; any water that percolated from the sandy layer above stayed here, but it barely drained or breathed.

The ground was tight and difficult to cultivate, the soil temperature was low, and its nutrient efficiency was hard to utilize.

Roman had Lax create a heavy plow for the purpose of turning over the deep clay, letting it sun-dry to clear weeds and prevent pests, releasing the underlying fertility.

Even the compacted sandy topsoil could be split, albeit tediously.

A plow that normally required two oxen now needed four.

And yet, the results could hardly be called good.

There were only exhausted oxen, not overworked fields.

Regardless, the land still needed to be plowed.

The soil structure had to be amended.

Roman planned to cultivate between seven thousand to ten thousand acres.

That required bringing over ten to nearly twenty million jin of peat and manure.

Undoubtedly, this was a major undertaking.

Therefore, he had gathered three thousand laborers.

This included women suitable for marriage to the soldiers.

Soldiers’ wives were also significant laborers, tasked with picking stones and breaking clods after the heavy plow.

Construction crews had to pause too, coming to plant first because building could be done anytime, whereas farming could not—there was an urgent shortage of laborers now.

Taking advantage of this spring rain, they used Cross Pickaxes to pry open the compacted soil layer, breaking the clods one by one. First, they loosened the soil, then each acre was mixed with two thousand jin of peat.

Two thousand jin of peat mixed with manure’s humus when spread over an acre of new land only made a thin layer.

But if too much fertilizer was used at once, unable to decompose promptly, it actually hindered the maturing of the land.

Twice a year, each session adding one or two thousand jin of peat and manure.

In three to five years, it could turn into a qualified mature land.

Loose, soft, with good structure and a topsoil layer reaching twenty to thirty centimeters thick, by then whatever was planted could yield an exceptionally high harvest.

...

The Agricultural Manager Balrog was responsible for guiding the entire process.

Roman had once used a Blue Gemstone to enhance Balrog’s agricultural knowledge.

Thus, the farmer’s son was becoming increasingly clear about the process of agricultural production.

In simple terms, he had a breakthrough.

He summarized his past cultivation experiences and gradually formed a knowledge system.

Although it was still rudimentary and superficial, this knowledge, like a magic spell, captivated Balrog and made him unable to stop obsessing as if he had glimpsed a new world.

Balrog had a respected and faithful father who had toiled hard for decades.

In the past Sige Town, no one knew agriculture better than his father, who held considerable prestige. At times, even the Agricultural Officer would consult him on cultivation matters.

But that man had died at this time last year.

He was confined to the past by tradition, while his lord was visionary, looking into the future.

His blood splattered at the feet of his lord.

His death was senseless.

The son thought, my father faced such hardship, my lord faced such trials, yet they were forced to contend, who was at fault?

Balrog asked himself.

All Gods, why do you pour suffering into the world, making those who are faultless fight each other, letting innocent blood flow?

You cover our eyes with black cloth, then suddenly lift it, allowing the dazzling light to strike us, yet you scold us for not being able to withstand the blazing sun.

If the sun is always there, then why only today did you lift that dark cloth?

If the sun is not there, then what is it that now shines in our eyes?

Using a new perspective to reassess the true potential of the land beneath our feet, Balrog felt fear.

But this was not the fault of one individual.

It was the fault of that black cloth, the fault of this era.

Such mistakes must not be repeated!

He wanted to spread the agricultural techniques he had summarized.

He requested an audience with their lord, who allowed him to establish training classes to teach and disseminate agricultural knowledge, thus lifting that layer of dark cloth.

He was deeply grateful for this tolerance and grace.

...

They first paid respects at their father’s grave and then arrived at this land that was urgently in need of cultivation.

"Balrog, look how strong these oxen and draught horses are," his wife said to him.

His wife was also skilled in farm work, as their entire family were farmers.

Their two children were left under the care of the big kitchen; one was not yet four, the other just over a year old. His wife had recently given birth when his father died, and their home needed more food.

He also saw those well-fed, robust animals.

Each overwintering, those animals would lose weight.

Thus, the oxen in spring were usually emaciated, their bones touchable, ribs starkly defined under the skin.

Yet, they still pulled the plows every year.

However, this year they had been well cared for.

He knew the Master had stored chopped grass and had him harvest 500 acres of green beans early for feed, saying it would prevent the animals from losing weight during winter.

He was initially skeptical but complied, and now seeing their robust health, he no longer harbored any doubts and revered their lord as a deity.

"Balrog, look how many pickaxe heads there are!" his wife exclaimed again.

The fine steel Cross Pickaxes, over two thousand, were stacked as if they cost nothing.

He knew all the Cross Pickaxes had been specially sharpened; he had seen it when fetching them from the blacksmith’s shed.

There was a specific position responsible for sharpening, with five Blacksmith Apprentices lined up, turning the grindstones.

The grindstones were soaked in oil beforehand, sparks flying as the blade touched it, another group pouring saltwater over it, the edges sharpened in minutes, both the tips and blades gleaming with the unique sharpness of steel.

Undoubtedly, these were effective tools!

He understood the significant improvement steel farm tools brought to efficiency.

Some shrubs were tough and hard, impossible to cut with sickles.

Now, a single forceful swing of the pickaxe could chop through them.

Looking over the vast wasteland, he said to his wife, "Let’s get to