The sun rose lazily over the horizon, painting the farmlands with strokes of gold and copper. Ikenna stood at the edge of the tilled plots, hands on his hips, breathing in the earthy fragrance that only freshly turned soil could offer. The air was crisp, yet held that early summer warmth that promised a bountiful growing season.
The Farming Scroll floated in the air beside him, humming softly. Since unlocking its Second Tier, its presence felt stronger, more alive—like an old friend with secrets yet untold. Every so often, the scroll's golden characters would rearrange themselves, revealing a new instruction or an unfamiliar seed icon.
"Morning, Scholar!" A familiar voice broke through the quiet.
Ikenna turned to see Chike, the young blacksmith's son, jogging over with a broad grin. He was carrying a bundle of polished metal tools. "Brought you the plow blades you asked for."
Ikenna smiled. "Perfect timing. These should handle the stony patches near the northern plot. Good work, Chike."
The boy's grin widened, clearly pleased at the praise. "Also… I heard some people in the village talking. They say strangers have been seen near the old riverbank. Wearing robes. Not from here."
Ikenna's smile faded just slightly. "Robes? What color?"
Chike's voice lowered. "Green and silver. Like the River Pearl Sect."
The name made Ikenna's mind tighten. He'd heard of them—mid-sized cultivator sects with a history of pushing into smaller territories under the guise of 'protection.' Their specialty? Water-based cultivation…and resource control.
"Tell no one else about this," Ikenna said, placing a firm hand on Chike's shoulder. "And keep away from the riverbank for now."
The boy nodded, though curiosity still flickered in his eyes. He ran off, leaving Ikenna staring at the rippling green of his crops. He didn't like this. The river was vital—not just for the farm, but for the entire village. If the River Pearl Sect wanted it, there would be trouble.
Later that afternoon, Ikenna knelt by the spirit herb patch, fingers brushing over the delicate leaves of the Moonlight Ginseng. The Farming Scroll floated nearby, displaying a pulsing symbol of a water droplet.
"You sense it too?" Ikenna murmured.
The scroll glowed once in confirmation.
That night, sleep eluded him. He sat at his desk, candlelight flickering against the walls, mapping out the farmland and nearby terrain. If the sect came, he needed more than strong crops—he needed defenses. Not swords and spears, but something subtler.
His eyes drifted to the Third Seal on the scroll—still locked, its golden threads tangled like roots in dry soil. If he could unlock it, maybe… just maybe… it would give him what he needed.
The next morning, Ikenna gathered the villagers who worked his fields: Mama Eke with her sharp tongue and sharper hoe, old man Taye who knew every inch of the land, the quiet twins Obi and Oba who handled irrigation.
"We have a possible problem," Ikenna said plainly, not wanting rumors to spin out of control. "A sect may be eyeing our river. If they come, they won't ask nicely."
Murmurs rippled through the group. Mama Eke crossed her arms. "Then they'll find more than weeds waiting for them."
Ikenna's lips curved slightly. "Exactly. We'll continue farming as usual, but we'll make… improvements." He explained his plan to strengthen the irrigation channels, using hidden trenches and water-flow locks that could redirect or cut off water entirely if needed.
The twins nodded eagerly—anything involving waterwork excited them.
"And," Ikenna added, "we'll grow a new crop—one that needs a lot of water but can survive with very little once established. It will look fragile to outsiders, but it's stronger than it seems."
Mama Eke raised a brow. "A trap crop."
"Exactly," Ikenna confirmed.
For the next two weeks, the farm was a hive of quiet, purposeful activity. They planted the Silver Lotus Grain, a crop the Farming Scroll had revealed to him. Its pale stalks shimmered faintly at night, absorbing moonlight. The villagers were told it was just another high-value plant for trade. Only Ikenna and the scroll knew its real secret—its roots released a subtle toxin into the soil that discouraged certain invasive spirit plants, and when burned, it produced a smoke that interfered with water-based spiritual techniques.
By the third week, the first whispers reached his ears.
"They say a sect envoy's been seen in the marketplace," Chike reported one evening, leaning against the doorframe of Ikenna's workshop.
Ikenna looked up from sharpening a hoe. "How close?"
"Too close," Chike replied. "They're asking about the farm."
The envoy arrived two days later.
A tall man with slicked-back hair, wearing flowing green and silver robes, stood at the edge of Ikenna's main field. His smile was polite, but his eyes were sharp, assessing.
"This is impressive land," the man said, voice smooth as water. "You must be the… Scholar-Farmer?"
"That's me," Ikenna said evenly, setting aside his tools.
The envoy's gaze drifted over the crops, lingering on the irrigation channels. "The River Pearl Sect is always looking for partnerships with promising farmers. With our water techniques, your yields could triple."
"And in return?" Ikenna asked.
The smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "A modest share of your land. And… exclusive access to the river."
There it was—the real reason for the visit.
Ikenna met the man's gaze without blinking. "Generous offer. But I believe we're managing just fine on our own."
The envoy chuckled softly, but there was an edge to it. "Sometimes independence is… costly."
Ikenna tilted his head slightly. "Sometimes partnership is more costly."
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then the envoy's smile returned, though tighter than before. "We'll speak again." With a swirl of his robes, he was gone.
That night, Ikenna stood in the moonlit fields, the Farming Scroll glowing beside him. He knew this was just the beginning. The River Pearl Sect wouldn't give up easily.
The scroll pulsed with golden light, and this time, a new line of text appeared:
Third Seal: Trial of the Land's Heart.
Unlock condition: Defend what you've grown.
Ikenna exhaled slowly. "So that's it… This isn't just about farming anymore."
Somewhere beyond the hills, he swore he could hear the sound of rushing water.
And in the stillness of the night, the fields whispered back.