As for the dino-chicken, Jing Shu decided to put that aside for now. She still needed to run more tests on its eggs before figuring out their full potential. She scribbled a note in her research journal:
The usefulness of the dino-chicken and the value of its eggs.
Still, the fact that a normal rooster turned into a dino-chicken made one thing clear—the Crimson Spirit Spring's effect was tied to time. It must've activated the creature's strongest genetic state, forcing it to survive in its most powerful form. The algae didn't change because that was already its peak form.
As for the red nematodes, the Crimson Spirit Spring had rewound their genetic state to their most frenzied breeding phase, fixing their inability to reproduce. From now on, as long as they were soaked in water diluted tens of thousands of times with a drop of the Spirit Spring, they'd return to that hyper-reproductive state.
But there were drawbacks. The red nematodes that had been soaked could only reproduce in their first generation. The second generation would have weaker fertility, and by the third, the trait would disappear entirely. Since their lifespan was less than seven days, a single drop of the Spirit Spring in several tons of water wasn't enough to sustain them long-term.
The Crimson Spirit Spring mainly acted as a genetic trigger—a catalyst that could be reused dozens of times until the few tons of water it infused finally evaporated. It'd probably take soaking dozens of tons of red nematodes before that happened. For Jing Shu, that cost was practically nothing.
In other words, once the first generation of red nematodes finished their crazy breeding cycle and died, she'd just soak another batch to continue the process.
To maximize results, she decided to add trace amounts of ZS880 into the first-generation breeding pool. That should double their reproductive output since the reagent promoted additional cell division, allowing the nematodes to multiply even faster.
However, what the red nematodes needed most right now wasn't reagents, but food. Algae, which could expand rapidly, was the perfect option. If only the nematodes could eat carrion scavengers or creatures infected with the zombie virus, she wouldn't have to bother with all this. Thankfully, she had algae to act as a converter.
That said, the red nematode breeding process was still complicated. Jing Shu's plan was: first, collect carrion scavengers and zombie flesh—free resources, since they were everywhere after the apocalypse. Then, she'd feed those to special algae that could neutralize toxins, turning the biomass into safe material. Finally, she'd feed that algae to the red nematodes, let them reproduce wildly, and process them into edible food to help feed famine-stricken survivors across the country.
So why couldn't anyone else copy this method?
Simple. Algae could only divide a limited number of times before its cells stopped splitting, which meant it'd stop growing. It needed ZS880 to keep reproducing.
Alright, say someone else also had ZS880 and managed to breed algae. Even then, they'd never reproduce Jing Shu's red nematodes without the Crimson Spirit Spring. Both components were essential.
Someone might ask, "Well, is the mutated algae useful on its own?" Sure, it was a little better than carrion scavengers as food, but it didn't fill the stomach much. Using it to feed chickens or pigs wasn't worth the cost either.
Anyone who'd raised livestock knew about the feed-to-meat ratio—the amount of meat gained from each kilogram of feed. If the animal ate less, grew faster, and yielded more, then it was worth breeding.
The genetically enhanced red nematodes could grow up to twenty centimeters in just two days. Their short growth cycle, rapid maturity, and high feed efficiency were unmatched. One kilogram of algae could yield several dozen kilograms of red nematodes. The return rate was insanely high, far better than raising poultry or ducks. Nothing else could match that kind of cost-efficiency.
So, Jing Shu's breeding model in this apocalypse had two irreplaceable elements: the Crimson Spirit Spring as the genetic trigger, and an abundant supply of algae as feed. Without either, it wouldn't work—and that made her method impossible to replicate.
Speaking of the Crimson Spirit Spring, Jing Shu suddenly remembered something. She'd recently found that the orange tree she planted in the Cube Space had reverted to its hybrid stage—half pomelo, half tangerine. After searching through several agricultural databases, she finally figured it out.
The Crimson Spirit Spring had the ability to rewind biological genes!
Wait a second. If it could revert things to their earlier genetic states, then maybe, just maybe... she could use it to restore extinct species or pre-apocalypse crops and vegetables in the future.
Her eyes lit up. Jing Shu quickly jotted down another note:
Continue testing the Crimson Spirit Spring. It might restore extinct organisms to their pre-apocalypse forms. Try experimenting with zombie creatures first.
If that really worked, it'd be incredible! So far, aside from collecting a decent variety of seeds, she hadn't managed to gather enough samples of extinct plants or animals. Even certain fish species she used to love were gone, and not being able to eat what she craved was torture.
Extinct species were always the most precious. If the Crimson Spirit Spring could restore them by reverting similar ones to earlier forms, then it was truly a badass treasure.
"Looks like this Spirit Spring is way more powerful than I thought. Shame there's so little of it, I've gotta use it carefully. And those Crimson Spirit Crystals... once they're gone, they're gone."
Her phone had been buzzing nonstop. Now that she'd finished solving the factory's red nematode reproduction issue, she finally picked it up—only to find hundreds of unread WeChat messages and a flood of comments under her recruitment post.
Apparently, someone had even shared her post to a group chat from her old university. The place had exploded.
[Ferris Wheel Girl]:"Wait, isn't that Jing Shu, our classmate who tried to be an influencer before the apocalypse? Guess being a net idol really pays off these days."
[Shorty Mao]:"What are you talking about? I heard from a high school friend that Jing Shu owns shares in Xingfu Shiyuan. Her family's loaded, they eat chicken legs like snacks. Unlike you, who filmed a garbage short movie that never even aired before the world ended."
[Ferris Wheel Girl]:"You simp. Think defending her's gonna get you a chicken leg? Please, even your math's trash. You think she'd want you?"
Jing Shu rubbed her chin, smirking as she typed with one hand:
"@Shorty Mao, report to this address tomorrow. I'll bring you a chicken leg next time."
"666!"
"Boss move! Please share some chicken legs!"
"What's Jing Shu doing now? She sounds so confident!"
She closed that group chat and checked the comments under her recruitment post instead.
"Boss, I used to be an auditor before the apocalypse! Sent my data already, how do I get a chicken leg?"
"My aunt's nephew's wife's brother's a lawyer. Can I get a chicken leg if I refer him?"
She skimmed through them. A few familiar names actually had decent résumés and good reputations, so she sent them her location. They'd still need to pass her "assessment" before being officially hired, though.
Then, another message popped up in the high school group:
[Xie Zihao]:"@Jing Shu, heard you're looking for a lawyer? My wife's a first-tier one, want to try her out? Oh right, @everyone, I'm getting married tomorrow at Xingfu Shiyuan! Come by for the wedding feast, no need for fancy gifts. Actually, why don't we make it a reunion? Boss @Jing Shu, Boss @Su Mali!"