The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 279

Chapter 279 Touched

Even as an outsider, Elizabeth.couldn’t help but feel stirred by what she heard.

She barely knew her so–called father–in–law, having only exchanged a few brief calls and picked up scattered rumors.

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Listening to Desmond lay everything out, she could finally imagine him clearly a real commander, tough as steel but deeply compassionate, a man who took all his people’s burdens onto his own shoulders. She felt a fresh surge of respect for him.

Desmond finished his explanation, his tone solid. “If you can provide steady, well–paying jobs for veterans, this won’t bother Commander Hewitt at all. You’d actually be helping him. You’d be taking a load off his rhind, helping him place his people. He’ll take this seriously and help you choose the right team.”

It all made sense now.

Elizabeth’s thoughts cleared in a flash,

This is good for everyone.

She needed trustworthy workers. Commander Hewitt needed placements for his retired soldiers.

Planet A001’s rough conditions wouldn’t scare veterans who’d seen real battlefields, who still bore scars or never quite fit in with

civilians.

Her farm’s pure food, the promise of healing, and the generous pay and respect she was ready to offer these could be exactly what those veterans hoped for.

“I understand.” Elizabeth made up her mind, though she stayed a bit cautious. “It still feels too formal to approach the commander directly. I’ll talk to his wife first and see what she thinks.”

For her, Zaylee was the ideal go–between–gracious, warm, and always approachable.

Desmond nodded. “She’s the best choice. Most of the veterans work with her during placement anyway.”

Elizabeth didn’t hesitate. She ended the meeting, stayed behind in the conference room, and opened a private channel to Zaylee.

C For her farm’s future, for the day she could finally eat real meat again- and for the veterans who deserved another chance–she had to make this call.

First Military, conference room.

The air was thick with tension and anticipation.

Every seat around the long table was filled with Trevor’s top officers and closest advisors. Their uniforms were incredibly proper, and the atmosphere was charged.

Normally, these were the ones giving orders and running everything. Now, they all leaned forward, eyes fixed on the three holographic reports floating above the table, and on the lead researcher, who stood at the front in a spotless white coat, his face

Blushed with excitement.

The title on the screen read, “Preliminary Clinical Observation Report on the Restorative Effects of Select Natural Crops

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Chapter 279 Touched

(Codename 7-01 Potato, 5-01 Sweet Potato, B–01 Strawberry) on Mental Power Damage”

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“Just give us the results already, Kingsley!” Oliver called out, slamming his broad hand on the table. The impact made the whole

room shake

“Yeah, Kingsley, just the main points!” Noah added, barely containing his impatience. “I can’t wait any longer!”

Kingsley, head of the research institute, pushed his glasses up his face. He didn’t look annoyed. He took his time, scanning each face in the room, especially Trevor, whose calm face couldn’thide the intensity in his eyes.

Kingsley’s voice was clear and strong

“After a week of strict, controlled clinical observation, all five hundred retired veterans who participated showed a clear and statist cally significant drop in mental power damage after eating those three crops daily in set amounts.”

He pulled up the core data, holographic charts lighting up the room. “For those with B and C mental power grades, the change was most dramatic. Just 11 ounces of potatoes or equivalent per day, and after a week, their damage dropped by as much as eight percent, with the lowest at four percent.”

A few officers couldn’t help but let out low exclamations, their fists clenched in excitement.

Kingsley kept going. “For A and S grades, the effect was more gradual but still obvious. The best result was a four percent drop, the lowest was two percent. The higher the initial damage, the greater the improvement. Those with milder symptoms saw less change, but their numbers still trended in the right direction.”

Oliver couldn’t hold back. He jumped up. “Kingsley, stop lecturing us. Just answer this–does it work or not? Does this stuff really heal?”

Kingsley Milperson didn’t mind the interruption. He took a deep breath, took off his glasses, and polished them quickly. When he put them back on, he locked eyes with Trevor, then looked around the room.

His answer was firm and loud.

“It works. Extremely well.”

A ripple of energy swept through the conference room, as if someone had set off a mental bomb.

Γ They’d all guessed as much. Thanks to Trevor, they’d been eating his daughter–in–law’s farm produce for a while now, and they’d all felt the difference for themselves.

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