Chapter 540

Before everything went to hell, the military got its funding from the state. But now, they had to fend for themselves. Keeping the base safe and developing it cost money, so naturally, they had to tax the residents.

"If you take out taxes and just consider the cost of building, you could get 50 acres of wasteland. If it's arable, then you're looking at only 20 acres," Nicholas calculated.

"With taxes, a lump-sum payment would net you 25 acres of wasteland, or 10 acres of arable land. Annual taxes would depend on the crops you grow, with 20% of each year's harvest going to taxes," he explained.

Stella frowned; she hadn't realized the agricultural tax would be so hefty.

Daniel had laid it out for her he wouldn't cheat her. He just pointed out that starting anything at the base was tough, and in a post-apocalyptic world, even a 50% tax might not cut it, let alone 20%.

To be honest, Stella didn't care much about the tax rate. She wasn't lacking resources, and she had a secret weapon: Arcadia.

The tougher the situation, the better her chances of success.

"I'll take the arable land and pay the annual taxes," she decided.

Once she made her choice, Nicholas marked the land for her. "As long as the medical supplies pass inspection, you'll get 20 acres in the southern plantation zone."

The southern plantation zone? That area was primarily for military cultivation, and Bran had once gotten into trouble there for pilfering manure.

Nicholas, remembering his orders, showed some concern. "The land in the south is the best. What do you plan on growing?"

"I've got some medicinal herb and cotton seeds. If I can get the seedlings to take, I'd like to give it a shot."

These were in high demand at the base, and Nicholas looked at her with newfound respect. "We have expert farmers here, and the hospital even has a medicinal herb garden. If you need help, just let us know."

The hospital director was eager to offer assistance too. "If you can grow those herbs, the hospital will buy them from you."

Stella gave a shy, grateful smile. "Thank you; I'll be counting on your support."

After finalizing the deal, Nicholas drew up a paper contract. They signed it, and the director arranged for the medical supplies to be taken away.

It would be a couple of months before the sweet potatoes were harvested and the land could be transferred to her. Nicholas suggested she start with the seedlings now, so they could transition smoothly to planting when the time came.

Once everyone had left, the family discussed their planting strategy.

Cotton loved warmth and light but hated both flooding and drought. And with the erratic weather-snow in June, heatwaves in winter-growing anything felt like a headache.

Many medicinal herbs had high environmental requirements too.

It seemed like besides mulberry trees, nothing would be easy to cultivate. But the difficulty added value to these crops, showcasing the unique skills of a landowner.

So, they needed to hire honest and straightforward workers; otherwise, cheating would be a hassle.

couldn't rely on

20 acres and whether they should consider intercropping, Rosie diligently went to

prepare both the front and back

finish their discussion, Rosie came back covered in dust.

of years. The howling wind quickly turned into

wasn't enough to just close the doors; the sand

control projects over the

peaked, it howled like banshees,

by the

over that evening, he had to shake off the

these when you commute so

coats were thick enough

raincoat at home, but Vanessa had stubbornly refused to let him

for games, but at that moment, he appreciated the

yard, which was

could catch their breath,

no wonder people

of a challenge, but they couldn't give up just because it was

pondered, "Maybe we can use the glasshouse we

a good reason to

glass in the past and could construct several

could successfully grow the seedlings in a controlled environment, the

as they were about to retire for the evening, there was a

it to find a figure sitting on

weather had turned cold, and the scent

he heard her approach, he looked up with the pitiful face of an abandoned puppy,

Here we go again.

his shamelessly needy expression, Stella couldn't hide her irritation, "Come

and smelly,

a feast, that was for sure. Stella cooked him a bowl of

was huge, and

smell of his sweat permeated the air, and Stella, wrinkling her nose in disgust, asked,

crops," he

storms had nearly buried the greens, and if they didn't clear them quickly, they'd rot and be useless-the very crops they'd hoped to use

sweat-soaked labor

large.

guzzled down three glasses of water and finally felt alive

dumplings spread

his heart was

you think the disasters are

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