The group chat exploded.
Everyone had always assumed Da Rong was just another oversized mutant plant. But now, faced with its intelligence and aggression, the villagers’ nerves snapped. Some were excitedly claiming the tree had become a spirit; others were terrified, demanding the authorities cut Da Rong down. Even the village’s oldest resident, Old Liu, broke his silence: “It’s a calamity.”
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. How had my Da Rong ever harmed them? Calling it a disaster was just ignorant.
I wanted to snap back, but forced myself to hold my tongue. The best thing for Da Rong and me was to keep a low profile.
Suddenly, a WeChat notification popped up someone tagged me: “Are you there? Are you still alive?”
I frowned and set my phone aside.
After that, the villagers’ attention on Da Rong intensified. I often saw them circling the tree from a distance, never daring to get close. Da Rong would swat at anyone who tried. The difference in power was obvious, but they kept watching.
I stayed as quiet as possible and warned Da Rong to behave. As long as it didn’t hurt anyone, the authorities wouldn’t bother with it. But if it did, protecting the public would become their top priority, and they might try to destroy Da Rong.
I just wanted a peaceful life, but trouble always finds a way.
One night, chaos erupted in the village.
Half-asleep, I grabbed my binoculars and checked the group chat. My drowsiness vanished in an instant.
An elderly man had suddenly developed a high fever. No one in the village would share their medicine everyone claimed they had none. The family grew desperate and loud.
Someone brought up the little girl who’d been beaten by the mutant plants she’d recovered, so her family must have medicine. The feverish man’s family marched over to demand it.
My heart pounded as I watched. I doubted the girl’s mother would keep my secret; to them, the medicine was a miracle with no clear source.
I asked Da Rong to quietly deliver another bottle, nudging the mother and then slipping away before anyone noticed. I trusted Da Rong’s stealth no one would suspect us.
But the sick man’s family was relentless. If the village started investigating, they’d realize the medicine didn’t come from anyone local.
I was tense, but to my surprise, the mother didn’t give me away. Instead, she was attacked people accused her of hoarding medicine, and violence broke out.
Her daughter tried to shield her, only to be thrown aside. Through her sobs, the girl said something that made the attackers pause.
A few villagers shone their flashlights up at Da Rong, but it was too dark to see much. They whispered among themselves and dispersed.
I didn’t believe the matter was over.
The village chat was in chaos. Everyone started tagging me, bombarding me with accusations:
“Are you there? If you’re alive, why aren’t you speaking up?”
“Hand over the medicine. If the old man dies, it’s on your conscience.”
“You’re so selfish! Your parents grew up here you’re one of us. How can you let someone die?”
“Do you still have food?”
“Why don’t you come back?”
Reading their messages, I felt a cold dread. What shameless people.
I turned off my phone, unwilling to read any more. Da Rong, sensing my anger, patted my blanket in comfort.
I slept poorly, waking with dark circles under my eyes. The next morning, the group chat had shifted from guilt-tripping to outright threats:
“You think you can stay up there forever? When you come down, we’ll make you pay.”
“Let’s cut the tree down”
“Isn’t the tree afraid of fire? You should be, too.”
I scoffed. Unless they had the mythical axe of Pangu, they weren’t getting through Da Rong.
After a night’s rest, I felt calmer. I realized that, with Da Rong’s power, most threats were empty. No one could climb two hundred meters to reach me.
So, I replied in the group chat:
“I’ve saved all your insults and threats. The internet isn’t lawless I’ve reported you to the police. We’ll see what happens next.”
This only made the villagers angrier. They gathered in force, shouting at me through a loudspeaker beneath the tree.
“Come down. We just want to talk.”
“Come down now.”
When I ignored them, their words turned foul. I recorded everything.
Then, they brought gasoline and tried to set fires. But Da Rong was no pushover anyone who tried was swatted away.
Privately, I kept reminding Da Rong not to hurt anyone too badly. Its strength was its shield, but only if it remained harmless.
After a tense standoff, a rescue team finally arrived.
A group of soldiers in camouflage arrived, distributing supplies and registering every household.
When they reached me, I hesitated, then asked Da Rong to lower me down. It was my first time touching the ground in months.
They checked my ID, gave me a relief package rice, noodles, dried vegetables, and some mystery food. I didn’t need it, but seeing their exhaustion, I accepted.
They explained that, after the insect plague, emergency supplies had been sent out, but many areas were devastated. By the time they reached our remote village, a week had passed.
I saw firsthand how hard their job was villagers clamoring for more supplies, demanding help with every problem, even reporting me to the team:
“That heartless girl let her tree attack people and hoards medicine. Arrest her.”
“That dangerous tree needs to be cut down.”
Some even tried to attack me, but the team intervened.
I explained Da Rong’s mutation, showing them the chat logs and videos of the villagers harassing me. I didn’t mention Da Rong’s intelligence or abilities, just that it recognized me as its owner.
They watched Da Rong “shake hands” with amazement. They collected samples of its leaves, branches, and roots for further study.
Sensing my anxiety, they reassured me:
“Don’t worry. We’ve seen unusual plants before. The authorities prefer to observe and protect, not destroy, unless there’s real danger.”
They also told me the villagers’ actions were criminal, and evidence would be sent to the police.
Relief washed over me.
After the rescue team left, the villagers fell silent. No more shouting, no more tricks.
Life became peaceful again.
I started baking cookies, macarons, sweet treats. Next day, I made braised pork and candied yams. With little exercise, I avoided the scale, joking that if I didn’t check, I hadn’t gained weight.
One afternoon, sipping homemade strawberry taro milk tea by the window, I noticed a group of strangers entering the village, led by familiar villagers. They carried large bags.
Soon, they emerged wearing military uniforms clearly fake. Their sloppy manner and constant fidgeting gave them away.
They approached Da Rong, shouting through a loudspeaker: “Come down and cooperate”
I rolled my eyes. Impersonating officials now?
I called the police, who told me to stay hidden they’d arrive in two hours.
I wasn’t worried. With Da Rong here, they couldn’t reach me.
They tried every trick, then resorted to violence throwing homemade bombs at Da Rong’s roots.
Da Rong was injured, branches and roots blasted apart. Flames spread.
Under attack, Da Rong held back, remembering my warnings. But as the bombs kept coming, I shouted, “Forget what I said, Da Rong! Defend yourself.”
Even so, Da Rong’s reach was limited, and after the insect plague, it was still weak. The attackers dodged its branches, targeting its vulnerable spots.
I screamed at them, recording everything, uploading the evidence online, and pleading for them to stop.
Da Rong’s movements slowed. It wrapped me in its branches, trying to protect me, but I refused to leave.
Explosions rocked the ground. My villa shook. I clung to Da Rong, my mind blank with fear and fury.
Suddenly, the explosions stopped.
A calm voice called out, “It’s over. You’re safe.”
Through the shattered tree trunk, I saw water jets and steam rescue helicopters hovered above.
Tears streamed down my face.
A month earlier, the rescue team had reported Da Rong to the authorities. At first, it was just another mutant plant until the lab discovered Da Rong could absorb and replicate the properties of substances like pesticide, making it crucial for research.
A special team was dispatched, arriving just in time to save us.
The attackers and their accomplices who’d learned of my supplies and planned to rob me were arrested. Their sentences would be long.
Da Rong was gravely injured two-thirds of its roots destroyed, the tree barely clinging to life.
I stood under its battered trunk, wrapped in a blanket, watching scientists work to save it. They reassured me: “We’ll do everything possible. You can stay as Da Rong’s guardian.”
“Are you moving Da Rong?” I asked.
They laughed. “No, the research center is moving here.”
The remaining villagers were relocated, and a new research facility sprang up. Da Rong was treated with special nutrients and soil, slowly recovering.
I moved into the lab, working as Da Rong’s caretaker.
In the years that followed, Da Rong helped scientists develop new, delicious varieties of fruits and vegetables combining the best traits of mutated and normal plants. No one would ever have to choke down bland rations again.
Natural disasters eased, greenery flourished, and humanity learned to respect nature’s boundaries.
The world had changed forever, but with Da Rong by my side, I’d found peace and hope for the future.
End
Doomsday Plant Battle - Chapter 6
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