Reports of Peace
The Imperial throne room was silent, save for the rustle of silk and the scratch of quills. One after another, officials stepped forward with reports that should have been impossible.
"…No more raids from rogue cultivators, Your Majesty. Villages that once feared bandits now report an unprecedented calm."
"…Harvest yields in the western provinces have doubled, though we sent no aid. The farmers attribute their fortune to the blessing of the Mountain God."
"…Food shortages in the capital have resolved. Merchants claim it is due to a single man's crops—purchased at outrageous prices and yet resold without loss. Even the common folk say: if it is grown by the farmer, it is worth ten lifetimes of gold."
The Empress leaned forward, her face hidden in shadow. Her pulse quickened. The farmer again.
Not just stories this time, but proof.
The empire had begun to heal—not by the hands of armies, not through Imperial decree, but through the quiet, unassuming presence of one man who plucked weeds and grew cabbages.
Her heart thudded with a traitorous warmth.
She dismissed the ministers with a wave, though she caught the glance of her Prime Advisor. He hesitated as though to speak, but the look in her eyes silenced him.
---
Neighboring Watchers
Far from the capital, in secluded sect halls and shadowed mountain strongholds, whispers traveled quickly.
"Hong Chen's Empire has grown strangely stable these past months."
"Food shortages ending overnight? Villagers claiming a Mountain God? Impossible."
"Perhaps their Empress hides a new divine artifact. Or perhaps… a hidden expert resides there."
Sect spies returned with fragments of truth, but none dared investigate too deeply.
All except the Ironheart Sect.
Their master, a cautious and deliberate man, had issued a decree:
> "Maintain neutrality. Do not provoke. Whatever dwells in that empire is not to be trifled with."
The other sects sneered at Ironheart's timidity. But the master had seen the reports, traced the patterns, and glimpsed the fear behind a single elder's trembling account.
A farmer, he had said. A farmer who turned sects to ash.
The Ironheart Sect chose silence.
---
Back at the Farm
Meanwhile, life at the farm flowed in strange rhythm.
Cabbages swayed in the morning wind, pumpkins ripened under careful hands, and disciples bled into the dirt beneath fists of stone and wood.
Garfield and Long Fei had grown stronger under Lai's merciless methods. But now, another victim had been chosen.
Ye Tianlong—once the so-called Heaven's Chosen, now reduced to a gasping mess of bruises and stubborn will—stood before Lai, his breath frosting in the air.
"Master…" he rasped, "why… why here?"
They stood at the edge of a frozen mountain range, jagged peaks biting into the sky. The air stung with needles of ice, the snow reflecting pale light that turned the world silver.
Lai's eyes glimmered faintly, as though amused by a private joke.
"Because, Tianlong, growth comes from imbalance. You burn with anger. You hunger for revenge. Fire consumes you." He pointed at the endless white expanse. "So I throw you into ice."
Tianlong clenched his fists. "And the herbs you spoke of? What do they matter to me?"
Lai's smile was infuriating. "The Yin Frost Herb. It grows only in places where the cold is cruelest. You will find it."
Tianlong's eyes narrowed. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you freeze. Or die."
The casual tone sent shivers deeper than the cold.
"Why… why do you even need it?" Tianlong spat.
Lai chuckled, his breath rising like mist. "Ah… it's for the next protagonist."
Tianlong blinked. "…The what?"
But before he could ask again, the snow shifted. Shadows moved in the storm.
---
Frost Demons
From the swirling blizzard came shapes—hulking, twisted figures of ice and rage. Their claws dripped frozen mist, eyes glowing like pale blue lanterns.
"Frost demons," Lai murmured. "Ah, how convenient. They'll keep you warm."
Tianlong turned, horror flashing across his face as a dozen of the creatures emerged, surrounding him.
"Fight," Lai said simply.
And then he was gone, dissolving into the storm like he had never been there.
Tianlong's heart pounded. He had endured stone golems, wooden beatings, death after death under Lai's cruel hand. But these… these were no training tools. These were real monsters.
The first demon lunged, jaws snapping like glaciers cracking. Tianlong barely rolled aside, his fist striking instinctively, qi flaring. Ice shattered, spraying shards.
Another lunged from behind, claws raking across his back. Pain exploded, blood freezing against the wind.
He staggered, breath tearing his lungs.
I can't…
But then he remembered Lai's smirk. It's for the next protagonist.
The words seared his pride like fire. I will not be a stepping stone for another cliché hero.
Roaring, Tianlong surged forward, qi blazing.
---
Watching from Afar
Back at the farm, the others gathered around a strange construct—a crystal orb set into a carved wooden frame.
The orb shimmered with images of snow, battle, and blood.
"This is absurd," Garfield muttered, scratching his head. "What is this thing?"
Lai reclined beneath a tree, sipping tea. "A toy. I call it… Tely."
Long Fei squinted. "Tely?"
"Yes," Lai said, smiling faintly. "It lets us watch Tianlong die from the comfort of home."
Blanca, balanced on a rock with a bucket of water atop her head, tilted her gaze toward the orb. "Die… or grow stronger?"
"Both," Lai replied. "That's how farming works. You bury seeds in dirt and death, and if they don't rot, they bloom."
The orb flickered, showing Tianlong battling against the storm, his screams drowned by the roar of demons.
Long Fei winced. "That looks painful."
Garfield chuckled darkly. "Good. He deserves it."
Ao Guang, watching in silence, shook his head. "You are crueler than the heavens, Farmer."
Lai only smiled. "The heavens like clichés. I prefer harvests."
---
In the Blizzard
Tianlong's body was torn, frost biting into wounds, every breath agony. Yet his fists moved faster, strikes heavier. Every demon that fell left him stronger, his foundation honed by pain.
One by one, the monsters collapsed into shards, until only silence remained.
He dropped to his knees in the snow, body steaming with heat from his qi. His hands clutched the pale, glowing herb that pulsed faintly with Yin energy.
"I… did it…" he whispered, vision blurring.
The storm calmed. The demons were gone. And in his hands, the Yin Frost Herb shone like moonlight.
---
Back at the Farm
The orb flickered, then faded.
Lai clapped once, setting his tea aside. "Good. He didn't freeze."
Long Fei frowned. "Master, what will you do with that herb?"
Lai leaned back, eyes glinting. "Ah… I told you already. It's for the next protagonist. But don't worry." He plucked a cabbage leaf and chewed thoughtfully. "You'll all meet them soon."
Garfield shivered, though the farm was warm. "Sometimes… I think Master's scarier than the demons."
Ao Guang snorted. "Sometimes? Try always."
---
Far away, in sect halls and hidden temples, whispers spread faster than ever. Neighboring sects could no longer ignore the Empire. Spies sent reports of impossible peace, unnatural abundance, and rumors of a farmer who crushed demons like weeds.
And on the frozen mountain, Tianlong staggered back to his feet, clutching the herb to his chest.
He had survived.
But in Lai's words, his place was clear.
Not the hero. Not the chosen.
Just another seed in the farmer's field.