The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 511

Chapter 511 The Ranch Is Open

Elizabeth rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Have the senior technicians take a look at it see if they can strip the paint job, patch up the engine, and repurpose it as a transport or patrol vessel for the farm.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Melton was already logging the task points on his datapad

“Tiffany,” Elizabeth said, turning to her head of finance, “the prisoners get minimum survival rations, liquid supplements only just enough so they don’t starve. As for our people, all medical bills and mech repair costs from this mission get fully covered by the

farm.”

She glanced over at Clara, Olivia, and the others. “And our new crew members need to be settled in properry Handle their benefits packages however you see fit.”

“Hi, Tiffany!” Olivia and the others greeted her with wide grins, their faces covered in bruises.

Tiffany watched Elizabeth sort out a whole pile of complications in just a few words, and while she shook her head inwardly, a trace of warmth and relief showed in her eyes.

With Elizabeth back, the farm had its backbone again, and no matter how big the storm, it felt like they could weather it.

“Understood, Ma’am. Leave it with me.” She was already turning to direct the logistics staff, her voice crisp and efficient as she coordinated the prisoner intake and cargo transfers.

Elizabeth gave a satisfied nod, and her gaze drifted past the organized bustle of the landing pad toward the northwestern corner of the farm, where a large, deliberately empty plot sat enclosed behind tall alloy fencing.

Her ranch. The dream she’d been nursing since the very beginning

“Alright, I’ll leave the rest to you all.”

She tossed the words back over her shoulder and took off toward the ranch like an excited rabbit, not looking back once, leaving all the cleanup work entirely behind her.

She’d been waiting for this moment for a very long time.

Meat, meat, meat. She was about to have all the meat she could ever want!

From the moment Tycoon Farm first took shape, Elizabeth’s vision had never been limited to crops alone.

The farm she’d dreamed of was a living, self–sustaining ecosystem where fields and pastures worked in harmony, each one feeding the other in one long, beautiful loop.

So once the farmland had found its rhythm, she’d had this plot cleared and prepared, and she’d commissioned the construction of every livestock facility to her own precise, carefully considered specifications.

She stood at the ranch entrance now and took it all in with a chest full of quiet pride.

The poultry house was broad and solidly built, with covered runs and open exercise yards. The hog pens had spacious shelters and roomy paddocks. And at the far end, the largest structure of all, the cattle barn, waited with more than enough room to grow into.

Every.facility ran on automated feeding systems, hydration lines, climate controls, and self–cleaning infrastructure, with dedicated nursery sections for young animals and a fully equipped veterinary bay alongside each one.

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Chapter 311 The Ranch is Oper

+20 Free Coms

in the interstellar age, animal mutations irad made them violent and uncontrollable, and the ability to raise livestock had gradually been lost. As a result, all meat, eggs, and dairy on the market now came from capturing animals on waste planets. It was troublesome, and the quality was inconsistent at best.

To eat exactly what she wanted, Elizabeth had decided she would simply domesticate them herself.

She crossed to the largest poultry house with undisguised eagerness.

This was no simple pen with wire fencing. Interstellar–age Cluckoo Chickens were much larger than the domestic chickens of Ancient Earth, with vivid plumage and fierce temperaments. They could fly short distances, and their beaks and claws were quite sharp. Ordinary fencing could not hold them.

So Elizabeth’s poultry house combined a reinforced alloy frame and bite–resistant composite mesh with low–level energy field emitters at the key structural points.

The fields were calibrated to prevent escape while causing no harm, and to gently restrain the birds when they grew too agitated, preventing self–injury.

She moved to the center of the enclosure, where several large feeding troughs connected to automated supply pipes waited in a neat row.

Elizabeth reached into her storage capsule and pulled out an armload of fresh produce from the farm’s own harvest.

Crisp dark greens, plump corn kernels, thick chunks of juicy carrot, everything fragrant with natural sweetness and trireaded through with spiritual energy, all of it prepared specifically for this moment on Tiffany’s instructions before they’d left.

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