Chapter 33: Storm Over Green Mist Village
The peace of Green Mist Village lasted only three days.
On the fourth, the wind changed. It carried no scent of rain, only the sharp tang of spiritual energy—dense, heavy, and foreign. The animals in the fields grew restless, birds scattered from the trees, and even the Seedbuds shifted uneasily at the village borders.
Tian Yuan stood in the fields at dawn, Hoe resting against his shoulder, his golden-red eyes fixed on the eastern horizon. The soil beneath his feet hummed with quiet warnings, the roots whispering of intruders approaching.
Budder appeared beside him, his carved wooden face as expressionless as ever, but his energy pulsed tensely.
"They come, Master. Not one, but many."
Tian Yuan nodded slowly, fingers brushing the soil. He could feel them clearly now—powerful cultivators, moving swiftly, their intentions sharp as blades.
"The relics have drawn them here," he murmured. "They think this village holds something they can take."
Budder tilted his head slightly.
"Should we prepare to evacuate the villagers?"
Tian Yuan's gaze softened as he looked back toward the village. Farmers were beginning to rise for the day, their laughter faint but warm. Children ran along the dirt paths chasing each other, oblivious to the storm approaching.
His voice was calm, but final.
"No one leaves. This is their soil. They should not have to run from it."
Budder straightened slightly, golden eyes glowing faintly.
"Then we fight?"
Tian Yuan's faint smile returned, but it held no warmth—only a quiet edge.
"We protect."
The first of the intruders arrived just as the sun climbed over the hills. Seven figures appeared at the far edge of the fields, their robes flowing, weapons glinting faintly in the light. Their auras pressed heavily on the air, bending the grass around them, their cultivation levels far beyond anything the villagers had ever seen.
At their head stood a tall man with long black hair tied back, his sharp eyes scanning the village like a hawk. His voice carried across the fields, firm and cold.
"I am Elder Rong of the Scarlet Root Sect. We have come for the Heartseed of Eternal Soil. Hand it over, and we will leave your village unharmed."
The villagers gathered nervously behind the Seedbuds, whispers breaking out among them. The Seedbuds themselves stood motionless, but their golden eyes were now wide open, faint energy spiraling around them like roots preparing to dig deep.
Tian Yuan walked forward slowly, Hoe resting across his shoulders, his steps unhurried. The intruders watched him carefully, some exchanging curious glances. His simple farmer's coat and calm demeanor looked almost laughably ordinary compared to the power radiating from them.
Elder Rong frowned slightly.
"Who are you? A mere villager should not approach cultivators at this level."
Tian Yuan stopped a few paces away, his golden-red eyes meeting Rong's cold gaze. His voice was quiet but carried across the fields with unnatural clarity.
"This is Green Mist Village. This soil belongs to its people. Leave now, and you can keep your lives."
A murmur of amusement rippled through the group of cultivators. One of them, a younger man with twin blades at his side, scoffed.
"Bold words for a farmer. You should stay out of matters beyond your—"
The words stopped abruptly when Tian Yuan shifted his Hoe slightly, its head sinking into the soil.
The earth responded instantly.
Roots exploded upward in a golden-crimson spiral, wrapping tightly around the young man's legs before he could react. His spiritual energy flared desperately, but the roots drained it faster than he could resist. Within seconds, he was slammed to the ground, immobilized, his weapons clattering uselessly beside him.
The other cultivators froze, their laughter gone.
Elder Rong's eyes narrowed sharply, his spiritual pressure rising as he stared at Tian Yuan.
"You're no simple farmer. Who are you to wield the soil like this?"
Tian Yuan's calm never wavered. His fingers brushed the Hoe's handle, and the soil around them trembled faintly, as if waiting for his command.
"The soilkeeper," he said simply. "And this is your only warning."
The wind stilled as his words sank in. The balance in his aura was unmistakable now, radiating outward in a wave that pressed even against cultivators of Elder Rong's level.
Elder Rong's jaw tightened, and his grip on his weapon shifted slightly.
"Then it seems we will take what we need by force."
Tian Yuan's golden-red eyes hardened, the calm in them now edged with Xiao Tianmie's ruthless glint.
"Then you'll be buried here."
The first clash erupted like a storm. The field shook as Elder Rong charged, his weapon slicing arcs of crimson spiritual energy through the air. Tian Yuan raised his Hoe, golden and crimson roots surging from the soil to meet every strike.
The villagers watched from behind the Seedbuds, wide-eyed, as the earth itself became Tian Yuan's weapon. Grass turned into blades, vines lashed out like whips, and every step he took made the ground bloom or crack depending on his will.
Budder stood at the edge of the field, watching intently. His wooden fingers tightened slightly as he spoke under his breath.
"The balance holds… but for how long?"
The cultivators attacked together now, but Tian Yuan moved like the soil itself was alive under his command. Every blow was met with precision—neither overwhelming force nor reckless destruction, only perfect balance. The roots wrapped around weapons, redirected strikes, and the very ground beneath the attackers turned against them.
For the first time, Elder Rong's composure faltered. His eyes narrowed as he locked on to Tian Yuan, realization dawning in his voice.
"You're not just a soil cultivator… You're the one who merged with the godly essence. You're the Balance."
Tian Yuan didn't answer. His Hoe spun once, glowing brighter, and with a single motion, massive roots erupted, knocking back three of Rong's men at once.
His voice was quiet, almost pitying.
"You should have stayed away."
The battle had just begun, but already the soil whispered of victory. Yet, in the far distance, another presence stirred—far darker, far stronger, drawn by the clash of energies.
The real storm was still coming.
End of Chapter 33