The pebble under his feet rolled in a strange way. When Chen Hao bent down to pick it up, his fingertips were still a little damp. He looked at it from all angles. Its smooth, grayish-white surface gleamed faintly under the light, as if it had been soaked in water for decades.

"This thing shouldn't be here," he muttered. "Where would pebbles come from if there's no water?"

Nana had already crouched down, and the scanner moved slowly along the ground. She didn't reply, but the shoulder light suddenly switched to a pale green, and ripples of light swept across the rock crevices, as if tracking some unseen trace.

“The humidity gradient is abnormal,” she said. “There are signs of continuous moisture seepage about 3.4 meters ahead.”

Chen Hao grinned: "You mean, what we just stepped on wasn't stone ground, but a map of an underground river?"

“The logical deduction is correct.” She stood up, took two steps forward, and stopped in front of a narrow crevice that was almost integrated with the rock wall. “This is the entrance to a potential water passage. It is only forty-seven centimeters wide and you have to squeeze through sideways.”

"Goodness, all this weight loss is finally coming in handy?" Chen Hao patted his belly. "I thought my biggest use for this was as a seat cushion."

He stuffed the charcoal sticks into his pocket, took off his coat and put it in his backpack, then squeezed sideways into the crevice. The stone wall was icy cold, scraping against his ribs as he walked, making him gasp for breath. He got stuck for a moment, and only managed to get out thanks to Nana's gentle push from behind.

"Thanks," he said, panting. "Next time I'll try to get as thin as a sheet of paper to save myself some trouble."

Outside was a gentle slope, about thirty degrees in inclination, covered with small, wet pebbles that were slippery underfoot. Chen Hao held onto the rock face as he descended, each step feeling like a tentative test on an ice rink.

"Slow down." Nana followed behind him, her steps as steady as if she were magnetized. "If the coefficient of friction of the ground is less than 0.3, the probability of falling increases by 62 percent."

"The more accurate you are, the more I want to fall down and prove you wrong," he said, but his grip tightened even more.

He suddenly stopped halfway up the mountain.

At the base of the rock face ahead, there was a small opening, less than half a meter in diameter, with neat edges, resembling a circular tunnel formed by long-term water erosion. A very thin stream of water was slowly flowing out from inside, dripping into a small depression below, making a soft "drip, drip" sound.

"Did you hear that?" he turned around. "Running water."

Nana approached, a flat probe popped out from her wrist, and after inserting it into the water for three seconds, she retracted it. "Water quality test complete: no heavy metals exceeding the standard, microbial content within the safe range, can be used directly for irrigation."

"So that means—" Chen Hao's eyes lit up, "We can not only grow vegetables, but also create a natural mineral water brand? 'Special supply from the cave, one sip and you'll be young again.'"

“There are currently no packaging or sales channels.” After she finished speaking, she continued scanning forward, “The space within fifty meters ahead has expanded, and there are light-transmitting cracks in the ceiling.”

"There's light?" He looked up abruptly. "Has the old sun finally decided to show its face?"

The two quickened their pace, bypassed a collapsed pile of rubble, and suddenly the view opened up before them.

A semi-circular platform appeared before us, roughly the size of two basketball courts. The most striking feature was a crack at the top, a full meter wide, slanted into the mountainside, allowing the sunlight to stream in like water being poured at an angle. Although it was only diffused light, after spending some time underground, it looked like a 300-watt light bulb had been turned on.

“Sunlight duration calculation.” Nana looked up, her eyes flashing slightly with blue light. “The effective sunlight exposure is about two hours and forty-eight minutes per day, with peak intensity reaching the threshold for plant photosynthesis.”

"That's enough." Chen Hao had already stepped inside, and the ground beneath his feet was no longer stone, but a layer of soft soil.

He squatted down, brushed aside the surface layer of fallen leaves and withered branches, revealing the dark brown soil underneath. He pinched a handful; it was moist but not sticky, and it didn't crumble into powder even after rubbing it a few times.

“This soil… can grow things,” he said in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Nana put down the probe ball, which was about the size of a ping-pong ball. It floated into the air and began to spin, casting out rings of data. A few seconds later, she spoke: "Organic matter content 2.3%, pH value 6.8, nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium balanced, soil structure loam with a slight clayey feel, strong water and fertilizer retention capacity."

"Translate it into human language?" Chen Hao asked.

“It is suitable for growing the vast majority of wild edible plants,” she said. “Including the varieties you call ‘wild shepherd’s purse,’ ‘bracken,’ and ‘purslane,’ the growth compatibility rate is over 90%.”

Chen Hao didn't say anything, but plopped down on the earthen embankment, looking up at the crack through which light shone. The sunlight fell directly on his face, so warm it felt unreal.

"Is it really that hard to find a piece of land?" he suddenly said. "The river bends and terraces were no good, the gravelly land upstream was no good, the low-lying areas were flooded, and the steep slopes were prone to falling rocks. I couldn't even find a decent piece of soil. I thought our planet was all about deserts, a perfect cure for the farmer's mentality."

Nana put away the equipment: "The reason this place was formed is due to the long-term seepage of groundwater, the introduction of sunlight through the fracture of the top rock, and the accumulation of humus over many years. It is a rare natural coupling condition."

"So," he grinned, "we hit the jackpot?"

“The probability is 3.7 per thousand,” she said. “It’s not high, but it did happen.”

Chen Hao reached out and grabbed a handful of soil, slowly scattering it as it fell back to the earth like rain. Then he smelled his palm and frowned: "It smells a bit fishy, ​​but... it's the fishy smell of life, not the fishy smell of rottenness."

“Microbial activity is normal,” Nana added. “The density of beneficial bacteria in the soil is higher than the average level on the surface.”

"Alright." He patted his leg and stood up. "This is it. No need to look anymore. Looking any further would be tantamount to jeopardizing happiness."

“I recommend initiating the planting preparation process,” she said. “Prioritize clearing the area boundaries, laying drainage ditches, and establishing isolation zones.”

“No rush.” He waved his hand. “Let me stay here for a while. We’ve moved stones, blasted kilns, and hunted wild beasts. Now we’re finally starting to see what ‘home’ looks like.”

He gently patted the ground beside him, his movements as light as if he were soothing a child to sleep.

Nana didn't urge them any further. Instead, she brought up the map interface, marked the area with a striking green border, and added the note: "Candidate for permanent planting area".

“Naming requirements?” she asked.

"What should we call it?" Chen Hao tilted his head and thought for a moment. "How about... 'Hope Field'? Too cheesy. 'Lifesaving Vegetable Garden'? Too tragic. 'Nana Brand Fertilizer Experiment Base'? You definitely won't agree."

“I have no naming preference,” she said.

“Then let’s call it ‘Pit No. 1’.” He waved his hand. “Simple, down-to-earth, and in line with our current life archive level.”

Nana entered the name into the system: "Registered as 'Pit No. 1', coordinates locked, subsequent operations will be carried out around this center."

Chen Hao was still wandering around, like a fat king inspecting his territory. He walked to the vicinity of the water source and found that after the stream flowed down the rock wall, it did not become stagnant water, but flowed slowly along a natural channel to the other side of the platform, and finally disappeared in a low-lying area.

“The drainage system formed naturally,” he said. “God really cooperated this time.”

Nana followed and scanned the bottom of the ditch: "The flow is stable, there is no risk of blockage, and it can be used as the main irrigation channel."

“We don’t even need to dig ditches,” he laughed. “It’s practically a model of agritourism delivered right to our doorstep.”

He squatted by the ditch, tested the water flow with his hand, and then looked closely at the muddy bottom. Suddenly, he frowned.

"Wait a minute." He pointed to several small dents in the mud. "What are these?"

Nana immediately moved closer, her blue light focusing on the marks. A moment later, she pulled up a magnified image: "Arthropod crawling marks, about three millimeters wide, evenly spaced, and in the same direction."

"An insect?" Chen Hao withdrew his hand. "How big is it? Is it poisonous? Does it eat vegetables?"

“No living organisms have been found,” she said. “The traces are fresh and formed no more than six hours ago.”

Chen Hao stared at the few small marks, his newly formed joy seemingly punctured.

"No way..." he muttered, "I just said this place is a blessed land, and you pull this on me?"

Nana paused for a second: "No threat is currently identified; continued monitoring is recommended."

“Okay.” He stood up, patted his pants, and said, “Let’s ignore that for now. If it’s going to rain, it’s going to rain; if insects are going to crawl, no one can stop them. But we have to secure the land first.”

He walked back to the center of the platform, raised his foot, and stomped it three times.

"Thump, thump, thump."

A little dust rose up.

“From today onwards, this land belongs to me,” he said. “Nobody can take it from me.”

Nana looked at him, a blue light flashing gently in her eyes.

“Ownership cannot be defined,” she said, “but the right to use is recorded.”

"Something like that." He grinned. "Anyway, I know things can grow here."

He tilted his head back, the sunlight shining obliquely on his face, so warm that he didn't want to move.

In the distance, the stream still flowed quietly, with a withered leaf floating on the surface, slowly spinning as it was pushed downstream by the current.