Lin Fan stood in his hidden courtyard, a massive, bulging sack of seeds at his feet. The scent of rich, dry earth and dormant life filled his small space. It was a smell of potential.
He had enough seeds to plant a field.
He looked at his single, small, now-empty patch of soil. It was barely large enough for two, maybe three cabbages.
This is a problem of wealth. He thought, a small, wry smile touching his lips. For the first time, he had an abundance of something, and it had created an entirely new, and much better, problem.
Old Man Fei's warning... 'hungry eyes'.
I can't just plant these out in the open. The other handymen, let alone the Outer Disciples, would strip the plot bare the moment they saw plants growing with such unnatural vitality. And if Steward Pang saw it... Lin Fan shuddered. The foreman would confiscate it all in the name of the sect, and Lin Fan would be left with nothing.
He needed a new location. A better one. Somewhere secret, somewhere with good soil, and somewhere... larger.
But the search for such a place would take time. He couldn't afford to waste a single night's growth cycle. The system requires 500 energy. I have 10. The work must continue.
He made a decision. This small courtyard will become my 'nursery'. I will grow one, perfect plant at a time here, while I find a real field.
He knelt and opened the heavy sack. Inside was a wonderful, earthy mess of seeds: pale-green spinach, tiny black radish seeds, large pock-marked beans, and of course, a huge quantity of his familiar cabbage seeds.
He'd start with something new. A test.
He scooped a small handful of the tiny, jet-black radish seeds. They were no bigger than grains of sand. He carefully selected the largest, most perfect-looking one and placed it in the center of his small patch.
He then picked up the [Bronze Spirit-Water Can].
Inside, the single, milky drop of [First-Light Dew] pulsed with a gentle light. He tilted the can with a surgeon's steadiness. The drop rolled down the spout and fell, disappearing instantly into the soil, directly onto the hidden seed.
He waited.
[Mundane Radish Seed]
[First-Light Dew] has been applied.
[Vigorous Radish] is growing.
Growth Time: 8 hours remaining.
Eight hours. Lin Fan's eyebrows rose. The cabbage had taken six. Different plants, different times. This is logical. This meant the radish would be ready for harvest around the time he finished his duties at the archive.
He carefully covered his large sack of seeds with his old, tattered rain cloak, tucking it into the darkest, most ivy-covered corner of the courtyard. He then grabbed his half-eaten [Vigorous Cabbage], still wrapped in its cloth. He would eat this for his midday meal. The thought of that clean, sweet crunch was already making his mouth water.
He had a plan. He had a secret. He had a radish growing.
It was time to go to work.
Lin Fan walked toward the Archive of Mundane Records, arriving exactly as the second gong finished its vibration.
He was on time. Perfectly on time.
Steward Pang was standing by the door. Waiting.
"You're on time," Pang said, his voice flat, as if this, too, was a transgression.
"Yes, Steward Pang," Lin Fan replied, keeping his head down, his expression neutral.
Pang's narrow eyes scanned him. Lin Fan could feel the man's suspicion like a physical weight. He was looking for any sign of... something. Lin Fan's robes were clean. His hair was tied back. He was not out of breath. He was, by all appearances, the perfect, invisible servant.
"I saw you at the market," Pang said, his voice dropping. "Near Old Man Fei's stall. You were... running."
Lin Fan's heart gave a single, hard thump. He had been seen.
"No, Steward," Lin Fan said, his voice practiced and dull. "I was walking quickly. I... I had a stomach ache from the congee. I was hurrying to the latrines."
It was a perfect excuse. The servant's congee was notoriously bad, and the latrines were a place no one would ever investigate.
Pang's face twisted in disgust. "Filthy. You're all filthy. You probably tracked it into the archive."
"No, Steward. I was... successful... and then I came straight here."
"Hmph. Just... just go," Pang waved him off, clearly repulsed by the mental image. "The 'Sect Legal Precedents' section is showing mildew. Clean it. All of it."
"Yes, Steward Pang."
Lin Fan slipped past him, unlocked the heavy archive door, and disappeared into the familiar, musty darkness. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. That was too close.
He lit his oil lamp and went to work, his mind far from the mildewed scrolls.
Land. I need land.
His gaze drifted to the single, grime-covered window at the far back of the archive. It didn't look out over the sect. It looked out over the cliff's edge, over the vast sea of clouds that gave the sect its name.
The archive was built on the very edge of the mountain peak. Forgotten. Overlooked.
Just like me.
An idea began to form. He knew this area better than anyone. He had been dusting its records for ten years. He'd even read some of the scrolls he was supposed to be preserving. He remembered one... a map of the Outer Court peaks from two hundred years ago.
He continued his work, dusting the 'Legal Precedents' with practiced, automatic motions. All the while, his mind was flipping through a mental catalog of the archive's layout.
West wing. Shelf 44. Section: 'Obsolete Architecture'.
His lunch break came. The gong rang, signaling the midday meal. Lin Fan heard the other servants in the distance, their voices and clattering bowls faint.
He did not go to the mess hall.
Instead, he pulled out his [Vigorous Cabbage]. He sat in the dark, dusty aisle and ate three large, crisp leaves. The burst of sweet, vital energy was immediate. His fatigue vanished, replaced by a clean, sharp focus.
He now had a 'break'. He hurried to the West wing. Shelf 44.
His fingers, chapped and gray with dust, ran along the scroll-ends. He found it. A bamboo scroll titled: "Elder Pu's Viewing Terrace - Original Blueprints."
He unrolled it carefully on the floor.
It was a simple map. It showed the archive... and a small, decorative garden and terrace that was supposed to be right behind it. A place for an elder, two centuries ago, to sit and contemplate the clouds.
A place that, as far as Lin Fan knew, didn't exist.
He walked to the back of the archive, to the grimy window. He'd never tried to open it; it was swollen shut with damp and rot. He put his shoulder into it. He pushed.
With a shudder and a groan of protesting wood, the window shutter-scraped open, letting in a shaft of bright, dusty sunlight for the first time in decades.
Lin Fan looked down.
It was there.
Or, it had been. What he saw was a small, crescent-shaped patch of land, perhaps twenty feet long and ten feet wide, clinging to the side of the mountain. It was completely overgrown, choked with thorny weeds, brambles, and a thick layer of moss. It was a total ruin. It looked like part of the small cliff-face above it had collapsed long ago, half-burying it in rubble and dirt.
It was invisible from above and from the paths below. It was accessible only, it seemed, through this single, forgotten window.
It was perfect.
He stared at the thick, thorny weeds. He stared at the jumble of rocks and old, rotted timbers. This wasn't gardening. This was reclamation.
He looked at his own two hands. They were good for dusting, and for planting a single seed in a pot. They were not good for clearing a field.
He looked at his [Bronze Spirit-Water Can]. It was a Level 2 tool.
He thought about his other tools. His duster. His broom. The small, rusted hand-trowel he'd used for his cabbage.
They were all mundane. Level 1.
A new, clear objective clicked into his mind. The system is 'The Handyman's Upgrade System'.
He didn't just need to upgrade his watering can. He needed to upgrade his tools. He needed a hoe. He needed a shovel. He needed something to fix this.
He closed the window, plunging the room back into darkness. He returned to his dusting, his mind on fire.
He had his seeds. He had his water.
And now, he had his land.