The village woke to unease. Word spread fast—by dawn, every elder, trader, and farmer had heard about the envoy's visit. Though Ikenna had downplayed the encounter, whispers still curled through the air like smoke.
"The River Pearl Sect won't just leave," Mama Eke muttered, pounding yam at her doorstep with unusual force. "They're like weeds. Once they take root, you can't pull them out."
Ikenna moved silently among his fields, letting his hands touch the stalks of Silver Lotus Grain. Their faint shimmer calmed him. The Farming Scroll hovered close, glowing with muted gold, as though sensing the tension in the land.
He didn't want fear to choke his people. But fear had a way of spreading quicker than weeds. And as he stared at the faint lines of water glistening in the irrigation channels, he knew the first test was already coming.
By midday, the twins—Obi and Oba—came running from the northern plots.
"Scholar! The river's changed!" Obi cried, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead.
"The flow—slower than yesterday," Oba added breathlessly.
Ikenna's chest tightened. He dropped his tools and hurried with them. At the northern edge of the farmland, the river looked strange. The current, once steady and clear, now trickled sluggishly, carrying streaks of cloudy silt.
Ikenna knelt, dipped his hand into the water, and frowned. A faint, unnatural chill bit into his skin. Spiritual energy—tainted.
He murmured to the scroll, "Show me."
Golden script shimmered before him:
Foreign Qi detected. Water manipulation array nearby.
Ikenna's jaw clenched. So the River Pearl Sect had begun. They weren't negotiating anymore—they were choking him. If the river dried or fouled, the fields would wither, and the villagers would have no choice but to bow.
"No," Ikenna muttered, eyes narrowing. "Not while I'm here."
That night, he called a council of workers at the farmhouse. The room smelled of smoke and roasted cassava, but no one was eating. Faces were grim.
"They're cutting our river," Ikenna said bluntly. "Not fully, but enough to test us."
"Test us?" Chike spat, fists clenching. "They're strangling us!"
Mama Eke leaned forward, her eyes sharp. "Then we fight back."
"Not with blades," Ikenna said firmly. "That's what they want. They want us to act like rebels, so they can crush us openly. We must resist differently."
He unrolled a rough map of the river on the table. "They're using an array to divert the flow. We can't break it head-on, not yet. But we can defend the farm with what we know—soil, roots, and growth."
The twins leaned closer, curiosity sparking. "You mean… the hidden trenches?"
Ikenna nodded. "And more. We'll prepare the land so if they try anything further, the farm itself will resist."
Mama Eke smirked. "Turning soil into a battlefield. Scholar, you're more cunning than you look."
The following days were a blur of covert labor. By daylight, they farmed as usual. But at dusk and dawn, they dug secret channels, laid traps of thorny vines, and reinforced embankments. Ikenna used the scroll to infuse spirit energy into certain crops—transforming the Moonlight Ginseng leaves into subtle wards that shimmered at night, confusing spiritual senses.
At the heart of the farm, he planted a cluster of Guardian Yams, a crop the scroll had revealed in a faint glow. Their vines grew thick and fast, wrapping around posts like coiled serpents. When their roots were infused with Qi, they acted as barriers—slowing intruders' movements as if the earth itself dragged at their feet.
"Strange plants," Obi muttered one evening, wiping sweat.
"Strong plants," Ikenna corrected, watching the vines twist toward the moonlight. "They'll protect us when steel cannot."
The attack came sooner than he expected.
It was midnight, the village hushed in slumber, when the scroll jolted awake with violent light. Ikenna, who had dozed at his desk, sprang to his feet.
Golden script flashed: Intrusion detected.
He grabbed his lantern and ran.
At the southern plot, shadows moved—three figures in green-silver robes. They crouched near the irrigation lock, hands glowing faint blue as they whispered incantations. The air shimmered with water Qi, bending the flow toward their will.
"Stop!" Ikenna's voice rang out.
The figures turned, startled. One sneered. "The farmer dares bark at cultivators?"
He raised his hand, and the water in the ditch surged like a serpent, lashing toward Ikenna.
But the water never reached him. The Guardian Yams stirred, vines snapping from the soil, wrapping the ditch and absorbing the surge. The cultivator's eyes widened. "What—?!"
Ikenna's voice was calm, though his heart hammered. "This land is not yours to take."
The intruders exchanged glances. "We were told this would be easy," one muttered.
"Nothing worth growing is ever easy," Ikenna said, stepping forward. The scroll glowed brighter, golden light weaving into the crops around him. The fields themselves seemed to awaken—leaves rustling though there was no wind, stalks shifting as if listening.
The intruders tried again, casting a wave of water blades. But the Silver Lotus Grain shimmered, releasing a faint mist that dulled the spiritual energy, scattering the attack harmlessly into the soil.
The lead intruder snarled. "Enough tricks!" He drew a short blade, spiritual energy crackling along its edge.
Before he could strike, the ground trembled. Roots—thick, glowing faintly with Qi—burst from the soil, tangling around his legs and pulling him down. He crashed into the dirt, blade clattering away.
The others froze, eyes wide with dawning realization. "This… this farm is alive."
"No," Ikenna corrected quietly, standing tall beneath the moon. "It's defended."
Fear flickered across their faces. One hissed, "We must report this to the Sect." With that, they vanished into the night, retreating as quickly as they had come.
When silence returned, Ikenna let out a long breath. The fields settled, the glowing roots retreating into the earth. He placed a hand on the soil. "Thank you," he whispered.
The scroll drifted closer, glowing with pride. Then golden letters unfolded across its surface:
Trial of the Land's Heart – Initiated.
Progress: 1 of 3 challenges overcome.
Ikenna straightened, resolve hardening. This was only the first wave. The River Pearl Sect would not give up. They would return, stronger and angrier.
But he was ready. For this wasn't just land anymore—it was a living shield, a testament to every hand that had sown and watered it.
And as long as Ikenna drew breath, no sect would uproot what they had grown.