The Brood Nest, having recently received a large infusion of high-quality protein, was operating at full capacity. Every day, it worked diligently, ensuring productivity without compromising itself. The eggs it produced were primarily Worker Ant eggs, with only a few allotted to replenish the ranks of the fallen Soldier Ants.
This war, which had mobilized over ten thousand combatants on both sides, provided Luo Wen with clarity on the optimal composition of the Brood Nest’s forces moving forward.
Under his command, which far surpassed the strategic capability of any ant, most of the battles were confined to narrow spaces, such as underground tunnels or hive entrances.
This restriction meant that, at any given time, only a limited number of troops from both sides engaged directly. Apart from the larger number of Soldier Ants required to maintain the siege at the hive entrances, few were needed elsewhere.
Soldier Ants, useful only in combat, were essentially food-consuming machines. Overproduction during wartime risked a surplus after the conflict ended. To prevent unnecessary food loss, any excess soldiers would have to be recycled into protein stores.
Given that a few hundred Soldier Ants sufficed for current needs, Luo Wen refrained from hatching more.
In contrast, Worker Ants proved far more versatile and indispensable.
First, during battles, they acted as auxiliaries, shielding Soldier Ants’ limbs and backs.
In direct combat, they could bite and pin down enemies, holding them in place for Soldier Ants to finish off.
Post-battle, they transformed into transport teams, cleaning the battlefield and collecting spoils.
In peacetime, they tended larvae, maintained cleanliness within the Brood Nest, and managed emerging industries such as green insect ranching, which involved rearing aphids and collecting their secretions.
For the Brood Nest, more Worker Ants equaled greater efficiency.
Months passed. A silver torrent cascaded down a cliff, creating a majestic waterfall that churned into a misty spray, glinting like diamonds in the sunlight.
At the base of the waterfall lay a shimmering lake. Gentle ripples spread across its surface under the caress of the breeze. Viewed from above, the once-perfectly round lake had a small flaw—a cracked edge forming a winding stream that meandered into the distance.
The lakeshore and stream banks were lush with greenery, vibrant and thriving.
Several hundred meters from the lake stood a towering tree, its height reaching tens of meters. Its massive canopy cast a wide shadow over the land below.
Clinging to the deep brown trunk was a Black Beetle, as large as a dinner plate. It stuck to the tree like an unsightly patch, disrupting the natural harmony of the scene.
This was Luo Wen, surveying his domain.
Over the past few months, the Brood Nest had conquered seven hives in succession, expanding its territory to over 300 meters in radius. Though modest in human terms, for ants—most no larger than a fingernail—it was a vast realm.
Previously, this territory supported seven hives, each housing over 5,000 ants.
Now, under the Brood Nest’s control and supplemented by resources from over twenty neighboring hives, the population had more than doubled, surging past 20,000 individuals.
The Soldier Ant count had just surpassed 1,000, alongside a few hundred specialized combatants such as Spy Bugs and Scout Bugs. The remainder were all Worker Ants, with a 3:7 ratio between those equipped with burrowing limbs and those without.
Luo Wen discovered that insects with additional genetic modifications, such as specialized organs, not only cost more to produce but also required higher maintenance. While the extra cost per individual seemed negligible, the cumulative effect of thousands added up significantly.
Thus, after careful calculations, Luo Wen settled on a 3:7 ratio.
Worker Ants with burrowing limbs primarily handled underground maintenance and food transport from other hives.
Those without burrowing limbs, being lighter, were assigned to the Brood Nest’s new enterprise: rearing aphids, small green, semi-transparent insects. Luo Wen had given them this name as a sentimental nod.
Seventy percent of the Worker Ants—over 15,000—were perfect for tree-climbing tasks.
Each day, these Worker Ants swarmed the vegetation within the territory, diligently nurturing the once-meager aphid population.
Originally, the aphids, limited in mobility, rarely moved unless they exhausted the leaves beneath them. However, under Luo Wen’s guidance, the Worker Ants carried the aphids to new plants, enabling them to propagate more effectively.
After feeding on the plants, the aphids produced semi-transparent droplets, which the Worker Ants collected by massaging the aphids. These droplets were consumed by the ants, who then regurgitated the surplus to feed their companions.
When all had eaten their fill, the remaining droplets were stored in designated areas to dry. Over time, the evaporated liquid left behind pale yellow crystals—sweet, rare treats that were easy to store.
Knowing their origin, Luo Wen refused to eat these aphid products. Don’t ask how he knew what they tasted like.
However, aphids were pests to vegetation. As their population flourished, the plants within the territory suffered. Leaves were stripped bare, depriving the plants of the photosynthesis they needed to survive.
Recognizing the issue, Luo Wen realized that his earlier practices resembled overfishing, threatening to deplete his resources entirely.
Drawing on his human experience, Luo Wen devised an ingenious plan.
He noticed that ants also excreted waste, which Worker Ants collected daily and deposited at specific sites. Plants near these sites thrived, their growth enhanced by what Luo Wen deduced was fertilization with organic waste.
Unfortunately, ant waste was too sparse to fertilize the vast number of plants in his domain. Even the daily output of tens of thousands of ants was insufficient.
After pondering the problem, Luo Wen hypothesized that the low waste production stemmed from the ants’ diet, which was primarily aphid secretions. Such a liquid diet likely explained the minimal excretion.
Would solid food increase waste production?
Sometimes, a wild thought leads to innovation. Recalling his only personal experience with solid food digestion since becoming an insect, Luo Wen had a sudden realization: the battlefield was full of solid food, ready to be processed.