Cheng Yang's name had spread far and wide across Tiandou City.
His inventions, his strange experiments, and the quiet miracles he produced every other week had made him famous.
Naturally, fame came with envy. Some people just couldn't stand it.
So one day, someone decided to make things difficult for him by saying Cheng Yang loved eating watermelon but was too lazy to spit out the seeds.
They mockingly asked whether the so-called genius could "solve" such a trivial problem.
The rumor spread through the city like wildfire. Everyone knew it was just a way to embarrass him.
"Eating watermelon but not wanting to spit the seeds? How childish can people get?" some laughed.
"Then don't eat it!" others said.
"Watermelons come from seeds; how could they possibly be seedless?"
Most citizens, who had benefited from Cheng Yang's inventions, felt indignant on his behalf.
Still, none of them could think of a solution to such a ridiculous question.
Cheng Yang, however, just smiled faintly.
He called over a footman he often trusted and said casually,
"Go to the orchard outside the city. Bring me two watermelons, the ones from the south plot."
No one knew what he was planning.
To Cheng Yang, though, seedless watermelon was nothing new.
He had already succeeded in creating one.
Cross a tetraploid watermelon with a diploid one, and you get a triploid, unable to produce seeds.
The math was simple; the process wasn't, but with his near-god-tier spirit manipulation, it was possible.
For convenience, he had transplanted an entire orchard outside the city, managed by nearby farmers who helped tend the crops.
Experimenting with fruits was his way of relaxing, and among them, the watermelon had been the easiest to perfect.
He'd extracted colchicine from herbs, doubling plant chromosomes after several trials.
What began as a scientific curiosity had become a side business.
He'd even planned to market seedless watermelon as a luxury fruit for nobles, until this petty challenge fell right into his hands.
When the footman returned, carrying two large melons, Cheng Yang simply took a knife and sliced one open before the crowd.
Bright red flesh glistened under the afternoon sun, but not a single seed was in sight.
The man who had raised the question gawked.
His eyes nearly popped out of his head.
The onlookers gasped.
The square fell silent, except for the small, cheerful voice of the woman beside Cheng Yang, Bing Di, his ever-curious companion.
She picked up half of the melon and happily started eating it, as if this miracle was nothing special.
To the townspeople, it was. Everyone knew the rule: plants grow from seeds.
If there are no seeds, how can they grow?
What Cheng Yang had done seemed to defy the very logic of the world.
Before, they'd seen him as a sage.
Now, they saw him as something closer to divine.
Cheng Yang, of course, seized the opportunity.
He began selling seedless watermelon as a luxury item.
It wasn't necessarily tastier than normal ones, but it was exclusive.
The nobles loved exclusivity, especially when they couldn't replicate it.
After all, how do you grow a fruit that has no seeds?
Business boomed.
His name soon reached the Emperor of the Heaven Dou Empire.
Upon hearing that this man was regarded as a living god, the Emperor wanted to summon him to court, perhaps even make him an official.
But Cheng Yang had no intention of becoming anyone's servant.
The Emperor secretly sent several powerful soul masters to investigate him, but none could figure out who Cheng Yang truly was.
They reported back that he must at least be a high-ranked soul master, yet they couldn't gauge his strength.
The Emperor could only sigh and treat him with courtesy from afar.
In Tiandou City, everyone soon learned a pattern: Cheng Yang only cared about inventions that improved daily life.
Ask him about politics or power, and you'd be ignored.
Ask him about better crops, tools, or medicine, and you'd find him smiling and explaining patiently.
Over time, he became part of the city's rhythm, mysterious but approachable.
Even those whose businesses were hurt by his innovations sometimes came to him for advice, and he'd point them in the right direction to recover.
It wasn't charity, it was just how he was.
No one knew, however, just how rich he'd become.
His warehouses were stacked high with gold and goods, enough to rival a noble house.
Yet Cheng Yang rarely left his small workshop. Few knew what he was building inside.
One afternoon, Dugu Bo stood at the corner of the cluttered room, frowning as he watched Cheng Yang peer into a microscope, the only high-powered one in existence.
"Master," Dugu Bo said, his young voice unusually sharp, "it's supposed to be my turn to use the microscope today! I'm at a crucial stage in my research on the effect of soul power on bacterial evolution. You can't just."
He gestured at the setup in frustration.
"Use it to look at rice grains and melon seeds again! Isn't that a waste?"
Cheng Yang didn't look up.
He carefully adjusted the focus knob, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"A waste?" he murmured.
"Tell me, Dugu Bo… what's more valuable, discovering how bacteria evolve, or finding a way for crops to survive in the poorest soil?"
Dugu Bo froze for a moment, his pride battling his logic.
"That's… not the same thing," he muttered.
"But still..."
Cheng Yang chuckled softly.
"You're impatient, as always. You'll understand one day."
Bingdi, sitting by the window with a piece of half-eaten watermelon, giggled.
"Cheng Yang always wins," she teased.
"You should know that by now."
Dugu Bo grumbled, crossing his arms.
"One day I'll make something even he can't explain."
Cheng Yang smiled faintly, still peering through the microscope.
"I look forward to that day," he said.
"But until then, bring me another batch of colchicine extract. The wheat looks promising."
The boy sighed and went to prepare the mixture, muttering under his breath, yet there was a spark of admiration in his eyes.
No matter how many times he argued, he couldn't help but respect his master's endless curiosity.
Outside, the sun dipped below the city walls, casting a warm glow over Tiandou.
Inside the small workshop, the faint hum of experiments continued, the quiet work of a man whose mind was decades ahead of his time.
Dugu Bo leaned against the table, still frustrated.
"If I can truly direct soul power to alter bacteria," he muttered, "I could create life forms capable of evolution, maybe even something as dangerous as the 'biohazard' from the master's stories."
His eyes glinted with ambition.
"Compared to that, watching you grow fruits without seeds feels... dull."
Cheng Yang finally lifted his eyes from the microscope.
"This is your fault," he said quietly.
Dugu Bo blinked. "Mine?"
Cheng Yang sighed, removing the glass slide with care before placing it back into its holder.
For a moment, he looked every bit the patient teacher, calm but disappointed.
He pointed toward the open window, where the bustling streets of Tiandou stretched endlessly beyond the horizon.
"Tell me, Dugu Bo," he asked, "which is more important, the power to kill, or the power to save?"
The boy frowned.
"Both have their uses. Strength keeps people alive."
"I'm not against your research," Cheng Yang continued evenly, "but never belittle these simple plants just because they seem harmless."
He picked up a round, dusty potato from the workbench.
"Take this, for instance. Hardly anyone on this continent grows it properly. The yield's too low, the taste's poor, so people gave up. But do you know what happens if we find a better method? This single root could feed villages."
Dugu Bo raised a brow. "And what does that have to do with soul masters?"
Cheng Yang's tone grew sharper.
"Everything. Have you ever thought about why soul masters can live comfortably without producing anything? Why do they wield swords, earn wealth, hold power, and even control who gets to reproduce?"
Dugu Bo didn't hesitate.
"Because we're strong. Even if thousands of ordinary soldiers formed ranks, they couldn't touch us."
Cheng Yang exhaled softly, half sigh, half laugh.
"It seems I've been neglecting your education in literature and history. That's my failing."
He walked slowly to the window, looking out at the farmland beyond the city walls.
"You think soul masters stand above the world because of strength. But power means nothing if there's no one left to sustain it. The truth is, the only reason you can train, eat, and live in peace is that the people, those same 'ordinary' farmers, produce enough food for you to survive. Over ninety percent of what you eat comes from their hands."
Dugu Bo stayed silent, his expression stiffening slightly.
"Without them," Cheng Yang continued, "there would be no taxes, no kingdoms, no sects. You wouldn't even have the spirit herbs you take for granted. Remember this: strength may divide the cake, but it's those who build it that decide whether there's cake at all."
He turned, meeting the boy's eyes.
"If all you seek is to monopolize resources, then yes, food won't matter to you. But if you truly want to achieve more, to become someone who shapes the future, don't just fight for a larger slice. Learn how to make the cake bigger."
For a moment, Dugu Bo didn't answer.
His gaze flickered, a mix of stubborn pride and dawning realization.
Then, from behind the workshop door, a familiar, amused voice interrupted.
"Ha! Well said! Truly, the Great Sage of Tiandou, always talking about making the cake bigger."
The door creaked open, and a tall young man stepped in with a grin.
His clothes were fine but not ostentatious, his golden hair tied neatly behind his head.
Cheng Yang sighed and rubbed his forehead.
"Your Highness Xueye," he said with weary familiarity, "you've forgotten to knock again."
The prince laughed, waving off the comment.
"Knocking feels too formal between friends. Besides, your speeches always sound better when they're interrupted at the right time."
Dugu Bo bowed stiffly. "Your Highness."
"Relax," Xueye said warmly, walking closer to inspect the microscope.
"I came to see what miracle you're working on this time. The city can't stop talking about your seedless melons."
Cheng Yang gave him a side glance.
"And you're here because you want one?"
"Maybe two," the prince said with a grin.
"One for me, one for Father. He's been curious about you for a long time, you know."
"I can imagine," Cheng Yang said dryly, turning back to the microscope.
"But let me warn you, curiosity can be dangerous."
Xueye chuckled. "Coming from you, that sounds like a threat."
"Take it however you wish," Cheng Yang replied, adjusting the lens again.
"Now, unless you plan to help me double chromosomes, I'd suggest standing back. This part gets... volatile."
The prince blinked. "Volatile?"
A faint hiss rose from the test tubes as the soul power-infused liquid shimmered faintly green.
Dugu Bo stepped forward, excitement lighting his face.
"Master, is this the new strain of spirit-enhanced wheat?"
"Yes," Cheng Yang murmured, his expression focused.
"If this works... we might just change the way this world eats."
Xueye tilted his head.
"You make it sound like you're declaring war."
Cheng Yang smiled faintly.
"In a way, I am. A war against hunger."
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