The cosmic void outside the sky-blue plasma dome was no longer a threat; it was a graveyard of broken empires. The brilliant explosions that had illuminated the celestial farm hours ago had quieted down into a cold, drifting field of metallic wreckage. Massive torn hulls of planet-cracking battleships, shattered anti-matter cannons, and thousands of deactivated Void-Stalker components floated aimlessly in the upper atmosphere, bumping gently against the outer perimeter of the protective shield. Inside the primary control nexus, the diagnostic monitors were a peaceful, solid green. Thanks to the deep copper insulation Han had soldered directly into the farm's bedrock, the immense thermal load from the previous counter-surge had been neutralized perfectly without leaving a single microscopic crack on the core IC chip.
Han stood by the heavy tracking terminal, his eyes scanning the floating debris field. The mechanical multi-meter tool hung from his leather belt, its screen displaying the chemical and structural breakdown of the drifting metal.
"Bimal Singh," Han said, his voice resonant in the quiet workshop. "Tell the harvesters to put down their traditional scythes and plowshares. Today, we aren't reaping grain. We are mining reinforced celestial titanium alloy."
Bimal Singh stepped forward, holding a pair of heavy magnetic extraction clamps. His face, though showing signs of the long week's fatigue, was bright with a rare, victorious smile. "The automated harvesting golems are already calibrated for metal extraction, Lord Han. The sensors indicate that the main hull of the enemy's flagship contains over forty tons of unrefined starlight-grade titanium. If we can pull it inside the plasma dome, we can upgrade our entire northern perimeter fence before the next solar cycle."
"We aren't just reinforcing the fence, Bimal," Han replied, tapping the glowing blueprint on the stone assembly table. "The universal Type-C cosmic port we installed is drawing clean energy, but our secondary aux-battery banks are still built from older, fragile ether crystals. I want to melt down the power conduits of those fallen dreadnoughts and extract their high-capacity lithium-matrix cells. We need to expand our storage capacity to two hundred percent if we want to survive the next true wave."
With a series of synchronized commands typed into the physical interface, Han lowered the northern quadrant of the blue plasma dome by just three percent—creating a controlled, localized magnetic vacuum sleeve. The automated harvesting golems, now fitted with heavy-duty industrial tractor beams, marched out into the tilled fields. Their iron limbs clanked rhythmically as they fired concentrated magnetic ropes into the void, hooking onto the massive, shattered plates of the enemy flagship and dragging them down through the vacuum sleeve.
The heavy sound of screaming metal echoed across the estate as the first forty-ton block of scorched celestial titanium slammed into the containment yard behind the main workshop. The impact shook the dust from the rafters, but the grounding lines absorbed the vibration seamlessly.
Han walked out of the back gantry, his heavy canvas tool satchel slung across his shoulder. He approached the massive piece of alien wreckage, the thermal heat still radiating from its torn edges, singing the humid air. He adjusted his thick leather welding gloves and pulled out his heavy-duty celestial soldering rod, its power line drawing directly from the newly stabilized grounding loop.
"Bimal, bring the hydraulic shears," Han commanded, kneeling beside a crushed access panel on the alien hull. "The flagship's central processing vault should be right behind this bulkhead. If the core memory chip hasn't melted, we can extract their entire mechanical navigation log."
Bimal quickly stepped in, placing the massive iron jaws of the hydraulic tool against the scorched bulkhead. With a loud, pressurized hiss, the metal buckled and tore open, revealing the dark, tightly packed interior of the dreadnought's command vault.
But as the metal pulled apart, Han suddenly froze. His trained technical eyes didn't find the clean, silver-trace layout of a standard alien navigation motherboard. Instead, the interior of the vault was covered in a thick, pulsating, emerald-green organic moss. It looked like a biological web, its veins glowing with an unstable, toxic light that hissed whenever it came into contact with the oxygen-rich atmosphere of the farm.
"Lord Han, fall back!" Bimal shouted, instinctively raising his broadsword as a foul, chemical odor filled the air. "That isn't metal... it's a living contagion!"
"Don't touch it, Bimal!" Han warned sharply, pulling his ally back by his shoulder armor. "This is an Emerald Contagion—a bio-engineered weapon of the outer gods. They knew their physical ships might fail against our mechanical defenses, so they infected their own motherboards with a dormant biological virus. The moment we dragged the hull inside our atmosphere, the moisture triggered the growth cycle."
As if responding to Han's voice, a small pod within the emerald web ruptured. A thick, localized cloud of green spores drifted into the air, falling onto the rich, tilled soil of the containment yard. The reaction was instantaneous. The pristine earth, normally rich with organic fertilizers and celestial nutrients, began to turn a sickly, calcified gray. The iron jute seeds planted near the perimeter began to wither within seconds, their roots turning brittle as the biological infection began to drain the raw electrical essence from the soil.
"It's eating the ground loop!" Han muttered, his mind working at lightning speed as he watched the gray calcification spread toward the main workshop. "The virus is designed to feed on raw electricity. It's tracing the copper paths I buried in the bedrock. If it reaches the master switch's negative terminal, it will short-circuit the entire lithium-core matrix from the inside out!"
"Shall I call the purification priests?" Bimal asked, his voice shaking as the gray line crept closer to their boots.
"No, traditional purification spells take too long and have too much magical resistance," Han said, running back toward his primary assembly table. "This virus is behaving exactly like an organic corrosion layer on a dirty circuit board. To clean corrosion, you don't use magic—you use a high-frequency thermal flush."
Han reached into his cabinet and pulled out his specialized jar of concentrated amber resin flux, combining it with a highly refined liquid solution of compressed starlight. He poured the glowing mixture into the auxiliary delivery tank of his Type-C integrated soldering iron. By routing the liquid flux directly through the heated thermal chamber of the iron, he could vaporize the solution into a high-pressure, super-heated cleansing mist.
"Bimal, go to the distribution panel and force the lithium-core matrix into a temporary three-phase pulse mode!" Han ordered as he strapped a heavy glass respirator mask over his face. "I need the copper lines beneath the soil to vibrate at exactly sixty hertz. The physical vibration will loosen the virus's grip on the copper traces while I burn away the surface spores!"
Bimal sprinted up the iron gantry, his heavy boots flying as he reached the override levers. "Three-phase pulse mode engaged, Lord Han! The lines are vibrating!"
A deep, low-frequency tremor shook the containment yard. The gray, infected soil began to crack as the buried copper wires beneath the surface began to pulse with high-frequency electrical energy. The emerald moss on the alien hull began to hiss violently, its glowing veins pulsing erratically as the mechanical frequency disrupted its organic logic.
Han stepped directly into the cloud of green spores, his heavy boots crunching against the calcified earth. He pulled the trigger on his modified celestial iron. A high-pressure, blinding white mist of vaporized starlight flux erupted from the nozzle, washing over the infected ground.
The moment the super-heated flux touched the emerald contagion, a violent thermal reaction occurred. The green moss didn't just wither; it dissolved instantly into a harmless, clear liquid, its toxic organic bonds broken by the chemical purity of the starlight solution. The gray, calcified soil immediately absorbed the clear liquid, its natural dark color returning as the nutrients were restored.
"It's working!" Bimal shouted from the observation deck, watching the white mist completely erase the green infection from the containment yard. "The line of corrosion is receding!"
Han didn't stop. He marched straight to the open bulkhead of the alien flagship, shoving the steaming nozzle of the soldering iron deep into the command vault. He unleashed the full capacity of the thermal flush, filling the interior of the dead ship with a massive surge of white, purifying steam. The pulsating emerald web melted away like ice on a hot furnace, leaving behind the clean, pristine structure of the underlying alien machinery.
Right in the center of the vault, now completely cleared of the bio-infection, sat a large, heavy-duty rectangular metal housing. It was the flagship's main auxiliary battery array—a massive, undamaged lithium-matrix core containing enough raw cosmic energy to power a small moon.
Han let go of the trigger, his breathing heavy inside the respirator mask as the white steam slowly drifted away into the upper atmosphere. He pulled off the mask, wiping the condensation from his face, a deep sense of satisfaction settling into his chest. The ground loop was clean, the soil was safe, and the harvest had not lost a single percentage of its efficiency.
"The danger is neutralized, Bimal," Han said, his voice steady as he inspected the pristine alien battery housing. "And look what they left for us. This isn't just scrap metal anymore. This auxiliary core is a direct drop-in upgrade for our system. With this integrated into our master switch, the next armada won't even be able to dent our shield."
Bimal Singh lowered himself from the gantry, walking over to stand beside his lord. He looked at the clean, black soil beneath his feet, then at the massive alien battery cell. "You didn't just save the crop today, Lord Han. You turned their biological weapon into raw fuel for our engine."
Han smiled, tapping the metal housing with his wrench. "That's the secret of a true harvester, Bimal. Everything the universe throws at us—whether it's metal, magic, or monsters—is just raw material waiting to be recycled. Let's get this heavy core inside the workshop. We have a lot of soldering to do before nightfall."
"To my incredible readers, thank you for pushing The Eternal Harvester past 92K words! Your amazing energy keeps me motivated every single day.
How did you like Han's method of cleaning the biological infection using vaporized flux? Do you think this new massive auxiliary battery core will integrate smoothly with his 4-pin switch, or will he face compatibility issues in Chapter 73? Drop your thoughts and technical theories in the comments—I read every single one! Please don't forget to vote, leave a review, and add the book to your library. Stay tuned for the next chapter! Keep reading and stay awesome!"