Her Celestial Farm on the Scrapyard Planet novel Chapter 52

Chapter 52 A Soldier’s Cry

Finished

“Mr. Orion, I’ve already eaten. Really.” Humus waved his hands dismissively and stepped back. “These are for you. I’m just a old bag of bones. It doesn’t matter if I miss a meal.”

Orion stood. His gaze was unyielding. “Humus, these potatoes… might actually work. You saw what happened today. I’m not eating alone. If you won’t eat, neither will I.”

Faced with that look–fierce, uncompromising care–Humus’s throat tightened. He couldn’t refuse

anymore.

With trembling hands, he picked up a potato. Under Orion’s watchful eye, he carefully peeled it and took a

small bite.

That familiar wave of gentle, sweet warmth washed through him.

Orion could feel the soothing effect in his own mental core. He watched Humus closely.

At first, the old man chewed mechanically. Then, suddenly, his clouded eyes flew wide. Disbelief flickered across his weathered face.

His hand shot to his head–the source of years of relentless agony.

“What is it? Does it hurt?” Orion’s chest seized.

“No… no…” Humus’s voice shook with something that wasn’t pain. “My head… it feels… lighter? That knot— the one that’s always there–it’s like… like it loosened a little?”

He hadn’t felt this kind of relief in years. That crushing, omnipresent weight and sting had actually lessened.

Orion exhaled long and slow. The last shred of doubt dissolved, replaced by a surge of fierce joy.

The potatoes didn’t just work on him. They worked on old injuries like Humus’s, too.

“Mr. Orion, these… these potatoes…” Humus could barely string words together.

“Yeah.” Orion nodded hard, voice low. “This stays between us. Don’t let anyone on the Salazar side find

out.”

Especially Emery.

If they learned his mental power could be restored, they’d stop at nothing to sabotage it.

“I understand! Completely!” Humus nodded vigorously. He knew Orion’s position better than anyone.

He watched Orion finish the remaining potatoes, then leaned in with a triumphant grin. “Mr. Orion, rest easy. When I went to buy the potatoes today, I already saved the seller’s contact information. The moment she sets up her stall again, I’ll be first in line.”

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Chapter 52 A Soldier’s Cry

Finished

The ship touched down in Garbage Planet A001’s signature toxic air. Metal doors opened, and a gust of rank decay blew in.

Elizabeth grabbed her supplies and stepped onto the barren ground.

It was fully dark. The recycling station’s sickly white lights barely illuminated the area around it.

She’d barely cleared the station threshold when a series of anguished screams and wailing from the clearing ahead stopped her in her tracks.

A man–tall–framed but wasted down to skin and bone–was curled on the ground, clawing at his own hair, howling like a dying animal.

His eyes were shot through with red. His body convulsed violently. He was deep in the grip of a severe mental power backlash.

A thin, exhausted woman clung to him from behind, ignoring his thrashing, holding on with everything she had. Her voice cracked as she called to him over and over. “Melton! Melton! Hold on! Look at me! I’m right here!”

Around them, a ring of onlookers–the elderly, women, children–knelt in silence, hands clasped, sobbing, praying to nothing.

“It’s open! The station’s open!” someone shouted. The crowd surged toward the exchange window.

“Sedatives! We need sedatives!”

People scraped together whatever they had of value, desperate to trade for anything that might help.

The vials were pressed into the woman’s hands. She injected him with shaking fingers.

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