Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Liang Chen Ranch

After that first success, everything clicked.

Ling Mo settled into the rhythm quickly—so quickly that she even started to enjoy herself.

This was far better than collecting dung. No wandering the grassland. No backbreaking bending over piles.

She glanced at the bucket. It never seemed to fill. Every time it neared the top, the milk vanished instantly.

Just like the cart.

Pocket-space technology again.

A thought nudged at her: if the Interstellar had tech like this, did they have storage devices too? Pocket-space tools, maybe.

If they existed, they’d be valuable—too valuable to throw away.

Then again… every product had outdated models. Old ones got replaced. Some eventually got disposed of.

But this was a ranch. She doubted there’d be a pile of discarded high-end storage devices lying around.

Best to focus on milking.

Ling Mo moved from cow to cow, gentle and patient. The animals responded well to her light touch, calm and cooperative.

Other players weren’t doing as well.

Some couldn’t get a drop because their technique was wrong. Others got impatient and handled the cows too roughly.

Ling Mo watched one person get kicked so hard they slammed into the ground—and then their body dissolved into starlight and vanished.

Her throat tightened.

Was that death, or just failure and return?

So far, the game hadn’t shown any direct “punishment,” but a kick like that could absolutely kill a human.

The sight was enough to make everyone else more careful. No milk was worth getting launched.

As Ling Mo worked, she scanned the ranch.

One waste plant couldn’t be the only one, could it?

She wasn’t picky. She’d happily run to a second… or third.

But as she watched, she realized the ranch was eerily empty. Aside from the players, there were only the gray birds that delivered assignments and a number of robots.

The robots spoke constantly, but she couldn’t understand a word—probably the interstellar language. Their movements made it clear they were always busy.

By night, a gray bird appeared again. Ling Mo knew her shift was ending.

The card praised her as an excellent employee and assigned tomorrow’s task: shearing sheep.

Under the card’s guidance, Ling Mo delivered the day’s milk to a dairy processing room and set down the bucket.

The moment it was done, she bolted.

Straight back to her beloved waste processing plant.

There was less trash tonight, but it was fresh—new hides, new scraps, new dairy products, all from today.

Liang Chen Ranch really was the largest ranch. Even what they threw away was enough to make her rich.

With experience, she cleared the place in a couple of hours.

Then a robot appeared behind her without warning.

Ling Mo jumped, heart punching her ribs.

Did it catch her? Did it think she was stealing?

She was only taking trash, but this was still someone else’s territory. If they decided she was a thief, she didn’t have a great defense.

Before she could panic further, the robot turned and walked away.

After a few steps, it paused, looked back, and said something she couldn’t understand.

The meaning was clear anyway.

Follow.

Ling Mo swallowed, squared her shoulders, and went after it, bracing herself for judgment by the mysterious ranch owner.

Instead, the robot led her to a much larger waste processing plant.

It spoke again—long and insistent, like it was giving instructions.

Ling Mo stared at it, helpless. She really did need to learn the interstellar language. Otherwise, every future instance would feel like this: her guessing, the NPCs talking, and no real communication at all.

She was still young. Fresh out of high school. If her brain was ever going to absorb a whole new language, now was the time.

She could practically see it already—clues hidden in NPC dialogue, warnings she’d miss because she couldn’t understand.

But that was a problem for later.

Right now, she had an entire waste plant to loot.

She couldn’t understand the robot’s words, but the gist seemed obvious: This is yours too.

Ling Mo took a long pull of coffee and marched inside. Anything her hands touched vanished into her pocket space.

Thank goodness it was big enough to hold all her greed.

“So much expired milk and milk powder… and milk candy. Candy expires?”

She tore open one wrapper, tossed the candy into her mouth, and froze.

An unbelievably rich, creamy sweetness filled her mouth.

Delicious.

No—ridiculously delicious.

She immediately started collecting like her life depended on it. Leaving even one piece behind would be a tragedy.

Then she found cheese—enormous wheels shaped like tires. If it weren’t for the powerful dairy scent, she would’ve thought they were pale stones.

Each wheel bore a bright red stamp.

She couldn’t read it, but she didn’t have to. It screamed one thing: rejected.

From everything she’d seen, Liang Chen Ranch’s quality control was strict. That explained why “bad” cheese ended up here.

Ling Mo shook her head, all righteous disapproval, while her hands moved faster than ever.

What a waste.

Good thing she was here.