It was raining.
Thin needles of cold water fell from a gray sky, steady and silent. It wasn't the kind of rain that brought life to parched soil, or washed sorrow from a weary soul.
This rain was different.
It soaked broken stone, filled shallow footprints, and ran in tiny streams through the cracks of a crumbling courtyard—pooling around the body of a boy lying still in the mud.
He wasn't moving.
He hadn't been for a while now.
Around him, the distant echoes of laughter faded into silence. Footsteps splashed through puddles, growing fainter with each second. A final kick had knocked the breath
from his lungs.
No one stayed to see if he would get back up.
They knew he wouldn't.
He had been an outer sect disciple. One of the many. A name barely remembered, a face barely noticed.
He woke before sunrise each day, cleaned latrines, hauled water, swept courtyards, and washed the robes of disciples far more powerful than him. He practiced when he could, in secret, late at night when his bones ached and his hands were raw.
But he wasn't strong.
He didn't have a powerful bloodline.
No wealthy sponsor.No connections.No clan.
Just a Yellow-grade spirit root.
Mediocre.
Forgettable.
A stepping stone.
And one day, like today, the stepping stone cracked.
The boy had tried to stand up for himself—once. He had spoken back to a senior disciple. He had looked a little too long at someone he shouldn't have.
That was enough.
The beatings came often after that.
Not enough to kill.
Just enough to remind him where he belonged.
Until today.
Today, they went too far.
When Shen opened his eyes, it wasn't his body he felt.
It was smaller.
Younger.
Broken.
He couldn't move at first.
His vision blurred.His chest burned. His limbs trembled with every breath.
And through the haze of pain, memories flooded in—memories that didn't belong to him.
Memories of silence.
Of hunger.
Of cold nights alone in a wooden shack on the edge of the sect grounds. Of bruises that never healed. Of eyes that always looked away.
The boy had no one.
And now… he was gone.
Shen took a breath.
A sharp one.
Pain lanced through his ribs, but he was alive.
Somehow.
No... not somehow. I know what this is.
His thoughts were calm, even if his body wasn't.
I died... and now I'm here.
It wasn't a dream.it wasn't a delusion. He had read enough stories to know what this was.
A transmigration.
A second life.
"Another world."
"Another chance."
"But not a heroic one, is it?"
He looked down at his trembling hands. The nails were dirty. One was cracked and bleeding. His robe was torn. His bare feet were caked in mud.
"No system greeting. No grand revelation. . No sword falling from the sky."
"Just bruises... and the stench of piss. from whoever thought it was funny to mark the door of the boy's shack."
"This is what I've been given."
He didn't know what killed him back home. A car? A hospital bed? He remembered flashes of white,the smell of antiseptic, a curtain being pulled.
But this? This felt more real than anything he'd known before.
He sat up slowly.
The rain hadn't stopped.
Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, low and tired.
And then, without warning, a voice echoed—not from outside, but from within.
[Transmigration Complete.]
[Host: Shen — Soul Compatibility: 97.6%]
[Spiritual Root: Yellow-Gold, Balanced Variant]
[Support Protocol Engaged.]
>System Path Detected: Harvest Ascension
> Mode: Skill-Based Passive Cultivation
Task Generated:
- Leave Hostile Environment
- Establish Independent Shelter
- Begin Peaceful Growth
Current Status: Critical
Recommendation: Flee.
Shen blinked.
A system.
Quiet. No fanfare.No flashing lights.
But it was real.
And it understood.
"Not a path of slaughter…"
"A path of peace."
He smiled.
It was faint. Small.But it was there.
For the first time in what felt like years—whether his or the boy's—he wasn't afraid.
He pushed himself up with shaking arms.
His legs trembled,but held.
He looked up at the vast, towering walls of the sect's outer grounds.
The rain soaked everything, but it couldn't drown the spark now lit in his chest.
"I'm leaving," he said aloud.
The words were weak.
But real.
There was no one to stop him.
No one would even notice he was gone.
And for once... that suited him just fine.
--------------
The sect gates stood silent in the dark.
Ancient stone pillars loomed overhead like sleeping giants, their carvings worn by centuries of wind and war. The inner courtyard beyond glowed faintly with jade lanterns, casting green halos across damp stone. Even this late, light spilled from windows of the senior disciples' quarters.
Shen crouched behind a crumbling wall, breath low, heart quiet.He had taken nothing with him.
No sword. No coin. No robe of higher status to bluff his way out.
Just a thin cloak stolen from a laundry line, a half-empty satchel of spoiled rice cakes, and the clothes on his back.
Still damp. Still torn.
The bruises on his ribs throbbed with every movement.
But he was moving. That mattered.
"No alarm. No patrol near the south.path tonight."
His memory wasn't great—his being the boy's—but it was enough. Enough to know where the wall had collapsed a winter ago. Where the spirit-beast hound had died and not been replaced. Where the moss-covered path led away from the sect and toward the mountain forest.
He just had to reach it.
One hundred steps. That was all.
He slipped between shadows, body low.
No spiritual signature flared from the towers.
No disciples stirred in the open-air halls above.
The sect was quiet tonight.
Not because they trusted him.
But because no one expected a failure to try and leave.
That was the insult deeper than fists.
They didn't even think he was worth watching
"Let them forget me," he thought. "I'll take. their. indifference and build a life with it."
He reached the breach in the southern wall.
Vines had grown thick over the cracked stone. One of the moss-covered bricks crumbled under his hand as he climbed. He winced, more from the noise than the pain.
At the top, he paused.
Turned.
Looked back.
The sect sat in eerie stillness. A city of quiet power and louder egos. Of towers scraping the sky and broken boys scraping rice bowls for food.
He whispered one final thing.
Not a curse.
Not a farewell.
Just truth.
"You'll never see me again."
He dropped down the other side.
The rain had stopped. The air smelled like pine.
And for the first time in two lives…
…Shen was free.
✦ A Forest with No Name
The forest didn't greet him with friendliness.
It was dark. Overgrown. Wild.
Roots tangled across the path. Fog drifted low to the ground. Strange sounds echoed through the trees—crickets, yes, but other things too. Creatures too small to worry him, too strange to understand.
Shen walked anyway.
Each step away from the sect made him feel lighter.
Not physically—his body was still sore, still barely healed—but in spirit.
The bruises would fade.
The name would change.
He was not that boy anymore.
He was Shen.
Just Shen.
The system stirred.
[Host has exited hostile zone.]
[Alignment Confirmed: Passive Growth]
🔓 Quest Unlocked: "The First Field"
— Locate safe land to claim
— Use spiritual or physical effort to till your first plot
— Bonus Objective: Use no weapons in self- defense
Progress: 0%
"Tilling a field... not slaying beasts or. mastering sword forms."
"I can live with that."
He pressed deeper into the forest.
A narrow path wound between ridges and old stone. Trees hung low. Mist curled around trunks like sleeping serpents.
Hours passed.
Or more.
His breath grew heavier. His legs shook with fatigue. But still, he walked.
Until—
He stumbled.
Not on a root.
Not on a rock.
But something… ancient.
Half-buried in the earth, hidden beneath ivy and dirt and rain.
Stone.
Not natural.
Carved.
Shen knelt and brushed the moss away.
More stone emerged. Then lines—runic. Circular. Patterns etched into broken tiles. A ring. A platform.
A ruin.
And at its center, something pulsed with faint light.
An egg.
Large.
White.
Cracked with golden threads.
Resting in a cradle of collapsed stone and worn prayer flags.
It pulsed again.
Warm.
Alive.
Waiting.
Shen took a step forward.
The air grew still.
The trees held their breath.
The mist pulled away.
The moment stretched—longer than it should've. As if the world wanted him to notice this… thing.
This beginning.
He knelt beside the egg.
Laid his hand upon it.
And the world shifted.
[Unclaimed Divine Entity Detected]
> Bonding possible due to Host's peaceful alignment, spiritual potential, and rejection of hostile cultivation.
🌿 Soulseed Companion: Unnamed Divine Beast (Status: Dormant)
🧬 Bond this companion for life?
[Yes] / [No]
Shen didn't hesitate.
"...Yes."
Warmth surged through his hand. Not fire. Not pain. Something older. Deeper. Like light filtered through ancient leaves. Like sun on stone. Like belonging.
A mark appeared on his wrist—faint, silver, shaped like a blooming flower.
The egg pulsed.
Then stilled.
[Companion Bond Complete]
Status: Dormant (Nourishment Required)
🌱 Passive Perk Gained: "Harmony Aura"
> Slightly improves soil vitality and beast affinity
Shen sat beside the egg.
Rain began again.
But this time… it was warm.
--------
The forest had no end.
Or so it seemed.
After the divine egg's discovery, Shen had rested beneath the cracked shrine for a few hours, letting the warmth of the bond settle into his body. The pain from his bruises dulled—still present, but quieter now, as if the beast within the egg was sharing his burden.
He carried the egg in a sling made from his tattered robe.
It was heavier than it looked, but never uncomfortable.
Like holding a promise.
He walked.
Past gnarled trees and low hills. Past dry riverbeds and moss-covered stones. Through a ravine where spirit butterflies nested in glowing bark. He ate what little food he had, drank from a cold spring, and followed no path but instinct.
Until at last—
He found it.
A clearing.
Untouched.
No sign of beasts.
No scorch marks from cultivation battles.
Just a wide, open patch of dark, fertile soil framed by a half-circle of stones and a single twisted tree standing like a sentinel.
The air smelled like wet earth.
The grass grew long.
The land waited.
Shen stepped forward, boots crunching softly over leaves.
The system stirred.
[You have discovered: Unclaimed Land – Tier 1]
This location shows no evidence of cultivation conflict, spiritual disturbance, or ownership claims.
🌿 Suitable for first field.
Would you like to designate this as your sanctuary?
[Yes] / [No]
"...Yes."
The wind shifted.
It wasn't dramatic.
No beam of light from the heavens. No celestial fanfare.
Just a moment of stillness.
Then:
[New Sanctuary Claimed: Hidden Grove]
— Location registered as home base.
— Field expansion possible.
— Beast companion link stabilized.
🧭 Quest Progress: 1/3
– Location Secured
Next Task: Till the soil with intention. Do not use spiritual tools.
Shen set the egg down gently in the shade of the twisted tree.
Then he rolled up his sleeves.
He had no tools.
Just his hands.
And a stubborn kind of will.
The soil wasn't soft.
Roots tangled just beneath the surface. Stones resisted every handful. His nails cracked. Dirt caked under his fingers. His back ached. His knees bruised. Sweat poured from his body.
But he didn't stop.
"I lived in a world once where people paid others to grow their food."
"Where soil was a stranger. Where hands stayed clean."
"But this is mine now."
"I don't want power that comes from stealing life."
"Let me grow something, even if it takes me years."
The sun began to set.
Shadows stretched long across the clearing.
But the soil... it changed.
Little by little.
Where Shen's fingers dug, the dirt grew darker. Richer. A faint warmth pulsed under the surface, almost like breath. Even the grass nearby seemed to lean toward the freshly turned earth.
The system chimed.
[Field Created: 4m x 4m]
> Soil Rating: 57% Spiritual Purity
> Method: Manual, Non-spiritual cultivation effort
🌿 Passive Cultivation Gained : + 2% Foundation Qi
🌱 Technique Unlocked: Verdant Pulse – Tier 0 (Support)
Description: A spiritual ripple born from repetitive care of living soil.
Effect: Slightly accelerates plant growth. Minor restoration to fatigue.
Trait Earned: "Hands That Heal"
– Increases beast affinity and soil compatibility.
Shen leaned back and exhaled.
The first field.
Small.
Ugly.
Uneven.
But it was his.
He didn't meditate. He didn't draw Qi through force.
Instead, as night fell and the stars blinked awake above, he sat beside the egg, his back against the tree, and watched the wind stir his crooked little patch of land.
The warmth inside him stirred again.
Not from the system.
Not from cultivation.
From contentment.
"I don't know what's in that egg."
"I don't know how long I can stay here."
"But if this land lets me grow... if I can feed myself, protect what's mine, and teach others to do the same someday…"
"Then this is enough."
Lightning flashed once, far away.
Not toward him.
Not tonight.
The forest slept.
And so did he.
----------
Dawn came slowly.
The sun crept over the treetops, gentle and golden, casting soft light over the clearing. Mist rose from the soil in thin threads, and a cool breeze stirred the leaves above Shen's resting form.
He didn't wake with a start.
There was no alarm. No urgency.
Just breath.
Even. Steady.
For the first time in two lifetimes, he had slept without fear.
And now, morning had come—and it was his.
---
Shen sat up slowly, back stiff from sleeping against the tree. His hands still ached from yesterday's digging, his arms sore from the effort.
But it was a good pain.
The kind that came from work freely chosen, not beaten into him by cruelty.
He stood, stretched, and walked barefoot across his field.
The soil was still damp. Still warm.
It felt… alive.
---
> "I don't have much."
"No Qi pills. No wealth. Not even seeds."
> "But I have hands. And time."
---
He returned to the tree, to the satchel beside the divine
egg.
Inside was a pouch of crushed grain he'd taken from the sect kitchens—spoiled
by mold and considered unfit for consumption. Not worth their
time.
But Shen didn't waste.
He knelt at the edge of his field and began separating the salvageable grains.
Tiny things. Misshapen. Weak.
But not dead.
He cupped them in his palms, breathed warm air over them, and whispered something without thinking:
"Grow."
---
He planted them one by one.
Not in perfect rows.
Not guided by a spiritual farmer's manual or advanced array.
Just instinct.
And care.
With each grain pressed into the soil, he let his fingers
linger.
Let his breath steady.
Let his intent root itself deeper than any seed ever
could.
---
The wind stilled.
The air shifted.
The ground beneath his hands grew faintly warm.
And for a moment—just a flicker—a green light pulsed beneath the soil.
The system stirred.
---
[Seed Accepted – Compatibility: High]
Spiritual Response: Positive Qi-Thread Binding Initiated
🌱 First Crop Registered: Wild Millet (F-tier, Abandoned Strain)
Effect: +0.1 Passive Qi/hour
Time to Sprout: 1 day (accelerated by technique)
🧬 Trait Awakened: "Root of Intention"
> Your crops now respond subtly to your emotions and spiritual will.
---
Shen leaned back, wiping dirt from his palms.
He didn't smile broadly.
Just a slow, tired stretch of the lips.
---
> "That's the first step."
---
He walked back to the tree where the egg rested.
Still whole.
Still silent.
But the mark on his wrist was faintly warm.
And so was the soil beneath the egg's cradle of stone.
---
Shen sat again, catching his breath.
The hunger gnawed at him—he had eaten little, and the rice cakes were nearly gone.
Still, he felt lighter than he should.
The field fed him—not with food, but with something gentler. Subtle. Qi that didn't burn through meridians or clash with his core, but seeped inward like steam warming stone.
---
> "If cultivation was always like this, maybe more people would survive it."
---
The system stirred again, without prompt.
---
Crafting Mode Available
No tools detected.
Would you like to begin crafting?
Suggested Basic Tools:
- Hoe (Primitive)
- Bowl (Wooden)
- Firestarter (Friction-Based)
Unlocks Minor Tool Traits + Crafting XP
Requires Manual Effort – No Spiritual Tools
---
> "Back to basics, then."
He looked around the grove.
There were fallen branches. Smooth stones. Vines.
He gathered a few and began to work.
Slow.
Steady.
Break the bark. Twist the fibers. Shape the stone.
No martial arts. No sword forms.
Just hands on wood, binding pieces of the world into something useful.
---
Hours passed.
The sun reached its peak, casting warm light across the field.
The soil shimmered faintly now, the spiritual pulse of it
rhythmic—alive.
And then… it happened.
---
Crack.
Shen looked up.
The egg shifted.
Just slightly.
But enough.
A faint golden line spread along its surface, glowing like morning sunlight through a curtain.
Then—silence.
---
[Beast Core Stabilization Detected]
Status: Dormant → Stirring
Species: Unknown Divine Class
Affiliation: Harmony-bound Companion
Estimated Hatching Time: 3 Days
Requirements:
– Continued spiritual nourishment
– Emotional contact
– Calm, natural surroundings
Trait Gained: "Caretaker's Bond"
> Beast growth responds to your life choices and emotional
state.
---
Shen exhaled slowly.
Then stood.
He returned to the edge of his field.
One last grain between his fingers.
He planted it carefully.
Then bowed once, hands pressed together.
---
Not in worship.
But in gratitude.
To the land.
To the second chance.
To the life beginning again beside him.
---
Shen didn't move for a long while.
He simply sat, his hand on the egg, watching the shadows shift across the clearing as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
His stomach growled faintly. The rice cakes were gone. He had chewed bitter roots that barely dulled the ache in his belly.
Still, he didn't complain. Not to himself. Not to the egg.
Some things—like peace—were worth hunger.
A distant howl rolled over the trees. Low. Feral. Far too close.
Shen's eyes narrowed. He stared into the darkened forest for a moment longer, then rose and added another log to the fire.
"Not tonight," he whispered.
The egg pulsed faintly beneath the tree, golden light flickering in rhythm with the fire.
Shen settled back beside it, one hand resting gently on the shell.
Far from the world that hurt him, beneath stars that no longer looked hostile, he fell
asleep with his back to the field and his face to the flames.
And in the forest beyond the grove, something hungry watched and waited.