If I let you farm, will you become the emperor of the empire?

Night falls early in winter.

As soon as Roman went out, he saw Gweil playing in the open space of the manor.

"Gweil, come here."

The little witch was playing with her donkey on the grass. The little donkey was jumping around, and she also ran over to it.

Roman looked at her face, then looked at the smooth, healthy and lively little donkey, and asked, "Did you secretly give Ami your blessing again?"

"No." Gweir said with a guilty conscience.

She was a little willful, but Roman felt that she was within the tolerance range.

A donkey is nothing.

Roman just reminded: "Your power is precious."

But it doesn’t matter if you give some of it to the little donkey. Gweir thought to herself that the little donkey was only a few months old.

Some time ago, she blessed some cubs of cows, horses, pigs, sheep, and chickens.

Every cub is carefully selected by Roman.

Healthy, disease-free and good-looking cubs generally have strong heritability, so they are very suitable for breeding.

After Gweir's blessing, those cubs became healthier.

Any species has potential genetic mutations, which may cause benign or malignant changes.

Gweil knew that Roman had told her that her blessing could induce species genes to mutate in a benign direction to a certain extent.

She doesn’t understand, but it doesn’t matter if she doesn’t understand.

Just cast the spell and leave the rest to fate.

Achievement is achieved, failure is not achieved.

This is true of plants, and so is that of living things.

It’s just that Roman never allowed her to bless human babies.

A single breeding pig or breeding sheep can reproduce hundreds or thousands of offspring. Human beings do not have this ability - not even if they did, and neither could he.

Furthermore, blessing animals consumes much more power than plants.

Gweir could only take the time to take care of those calves, foals, piglets, and lambs. In order to ensure the effect, she had to recast the spell every month.

"Did you go to bless the wheat seedlings today?"

"Not yet." She lowered her head and scratched the ground with her right toe.

Roman couldn't see her expression and said helplessly: "Then I'll go with you."

Gweir immediately raised her head with a smile and held his arm: "Then let's go."

She also smiled at the two adult witches behind Roman.

A faint smile appeared on Shasta's face.

Margaret said nothing.

Roman felt that she was deliberately blocking here to wait for him to ask questions.

It’s not an illusion, it’s been like this all this time.

When he first blessed the rice fields, he wanted to confirm with his own eyes Gweil's condition and ability limits, so he had to accompany her.

He just watched Guweier blessing more than ten acres. After confirming the general situation, he turned to other things.

After winter, he had some free time, so he was able to squeeze in some time, and he happened to be caught.

This kid is usually a bit clumsy, but sometimes he is also very smart.

She couldn't get involved in his work, so she let him get involved in hers.

Very cunning.

…

Gweir's blessing has both advantages and disadvantages.

It was impossible to let her rest.

At most, it's not as powerful as squeezing.

The fifty acres of rice fields were completed quickly, because the critical growth period of rice only lasted so long. She drank the magic potion in the summer, and the rice would be harvested in the autumn, so there was not much time left for her.

Now that winter is long, it’s time to take your time.

The group of four called out Lysa again. Today happens to be a bright moon night.

The moonlight is clear and cold, and the wheat fields are like frost.

Gweir cast a spell on an acre of experimental wheat field. Today's task is completed and she can go back - that's all she called Roman out.

The main direction of blessing is to adapt to the climate quickly and increase the tillering rate. The yield of wheat is directly linked to the tillering rate.

Gweir just casts the spell and leaves the rest to fate.

"Your Highness, you are so amazing. We never thought that the witch's power could be used in other ways." Lysa said this for several times.

When she saw the rice yield per acre in the experimental field during the autumn harvest, she was stunned.

The yield per mu is nearly three hundred kilograms, which can be said to be extremely exaggerated.

In this era, only those truly chosen places can produce this kind of output. The output of one acre of land is more than enough to feed one person.

Breeding was practiced at the beginning of most civilizations.

Because the foundation of agricultural civilization is to cultivate weeds into food, but the breeding technology is immature, so the time span is very long.

Farmers outside Origin City have not yet learned to use mud and water to select good seeds.

Agricultural technology is quite backward. Who knows the essence of breeding these days!

Roman snorted: "You guys have narrow vision, but I don't blame you."

Oops, here we go again.

Lysa had a headache. She tried to have a good relationship with Roman, because the man in front of her was her master.

He is intelligent, enlightened and energetic. He knows how to farm, brew, raise, build, medicine, water conservancy, and most importantly, invention and creation. He is simply a monster.

No one knows where he got his knowledge.

This land is a dark forest covered with thorns and boundless. People have been crawling in the forest and struggling for a long time. The sharp thorns have grown over and pierced their skin. They feel pain but cannot make a sound because they have already died in the long pain. It blends in with those thorny thorns.

Until someone suddenly appeared.

His whole body was glowing and his eyes were burning with fire. The figure illuminated a corner of the dark forest. He swung his lightsaber and cut off the thorns. When the creatures lying on the ground looked up in surprise, they found that they were no longer in pain. .

They couldn't understand this phenomenon. The pain had entangled them for thousands of years. They never asked about it. The only thing they could do was to follow blindly.

Wherever he went, they followed.

The dark thorns on the road he walked quickly burned, turned into ashes and nutrients, fell into the soil, and moistened a wide and warm farmland.

This is good, of course it is good.

Who doesn't want such a person to appear?

But Lisa felt that he should do better, such as controlling his temper, being arrogant and self-centered, either scolding this idiot or spraying that idiot.

He didn't look like a noble in any way. He was not keen on fighting, holding banquets, greedy for money and drinking, and hunting for entertainment. He was busy all day long. Sometimes he set out early in the morning, sometimes he came back very late, and sometimes he simply disappeared for several days. It's okay if he disappeared, but it's not good to meet him.

He is arrogant, but in this aspect, he is more noble than all the nobles. He is not likable at all. I don't know if I thought he was the King of Black Iron in person - or the King of Black Iron also has to follow social etiquette.

She said something, and he said she was narrow-minded, and said he didn't blame them. So they should be blamed? She was shocked and innocent. Everyone came here like this. I did everything you asked us to do, but why do you scold us?

Lysa laughed dryly: "After all, we are not as good as you."

"Of course!"

She was blocked and couldn't speak. She tried her best to recite the order that the nobles should abide by, humility, tolerance, honor, mercy...

Can this person uphold these noble virtues and respect them a little? Lysa asked herself, this is a veritable heir of the Split Armor. After a hundred years, have the virtues that the Conqueror once preached disappeared in the Duke's house?

"Roman, I'm cold." Gweil shrank her neck. The temperature at night is lower than that during the day.

"Why don't you wear more?"

"I forgot." The little witch said shyly.

Roman wanted to slap her, and then tell her that witches should maintain strong and elegant demeanor even in the cold wind at night. Shasta and Margaret are wearing thinner clothes than you, but their posture is much more dignified than you. He thought so in his heart, but he couldn't do it. This is the mother of food in Origin City. Who will be responsible if it is damaged?

He took off his cloak and put it on Gweiler's back. The fur cloak was soft and slippery to the touch, light and warm.

Nobles generally have such clothes.

It's a cloak when it's cold and a cape when it's warm.

But his cloak is a little big, wrapping her whole body, "So warm." She said, her eyes almost narrowed into crescents, "I'm going to tell Sanna."

"What are you going to tell her?" Roman asked.

"She will envy me." Gweiler buried her face in the cloak and smiled secretly.

"She has long envied you."

The child that Roman mentioned is now freezing in the wild with the fighting witches.

Sanna's expertise is different from Gweiler's.

Can the civil engineer who basks in the sun at the construction site be the same as the programmer who enjoys the air conditioning in the office?

The former only needs to work hard, but the latter has a lot to consider.

In addition, Gweiler has to drink potions and transform herself from a low-level witch to a mid-level witch, which is far less stable than Sanna's step-by-step work.

In summary, Sanna wins, wins, wins!

Alas, witches with the same fate but different fates have their own troubles.

As Roman and Gweiler talked and walked, the cold moonlight sprinkled down, and the winter night seemed not so cold and dark.

Lysa looked at Gweiler with some envy. He was good to Gweiler, but not to others. How can I get his respect? I'm late. Do I have to climb into his bed? Not to mention that it is a violation of aristocratic etiquette, the greater possibility is that he will kick me down.