Chapter 8: The Farmer's Dao

The serene silence of the night was ripped apart by a furious uproar.

A deep, guttural roar reverberated through the village outskirts, sending shivers down spines. The village guard dogs, lean and scarred from countless skirmishes with wild beasts, were in a desperate battle. Their snarls and barks, filled with unyielding determination, clashed against a heavy, growling menace—a bear, massive and bristling with hunger.

The beast had come too close.

The dogs, valiant but outmatched, circled, lunged, and snapped at its legs. But courage alone was not enough. A savage swipe sent one dog flying into the dirt, whimpering. The others hesitated, fear creeping into their relentless assault.

A shovel-wielding figure emerged from the shadows.

Chunhe didn't think. He acted.

"This world respects the strong. But strength isn't just fists—it's knowing when to strike."

With precise footwork, he closed the distance.

The bear turned—too slow.

KLANG!

The shovel struck its skull with terrifying force. A sickening crack followed. The bear collapsed, its breath ragged before fading into silence. The night was still once more.

The dogs, wounded but triumphant, sniffed the fallen predator, their tails wagging with cautious pride. Chunhe exhaled, gripping the shovel tightly.

"I was once prey. Hunted. Weak."

He looked down at the fallen beast.

"Not anymore."

At dawn, the villagers gathered, eyes flickering between the dead bear and the man who had slain it with a single strike.

"A single hit?"

"With a shovel?"

Even the hunters, men seasoned by years of survival, exchanged wary glances. The village chief stroked his beard, studying Chunhe as if seeing him for the first time. The younger men, those who had once mocked him for being an outsider, now looked at him with something resembling respect—maybe even fear.

A few muttered words about eating the bear. Chunhe tried a piece. He immediately regretted it.

"Bear meat… tastes like suffering."

Instead, he sold the fur to a passing merchant, making a tidy profit. Silver jingled in his pocket, but his mind wasn't on wealth.

Strength.

That was what mattered.

With money in hand and his body growing stronger, Chunhe turned his attention to something more… unorthodox.

Farming.

Not the back-breaking labor he had been forced to endure in his past life, nor the mind-numbing servitude of a sect errand boy. No, this was something else.

He knelt in the soil, hands pressing into the earth, and let his Qi flow.

"If Qi can grow spirit herbs faster… why not rice?"

He had studied cultivation techniques for herbs, techniques meant to nurture legendary elixirs. So, he adapted them.

Qi-infused watering. Micro-adjusting soil with internal energy. Guiding spiritual energy into the plants.

At first, nothing seemed different. Then, the rice sprouted unnaturally fast. By the next morning, the stalks were greener, stronger, bursting with vitality.

The villagers noticed.

The first time Chunhe sat in the field, eyes closed in meditation, the villagers watched.

"He's staring at rice again."

"Maybe the bear knocked something loose in his head?"

An elder, skeptical but intrigued, squatted beside him and copied his posture. At first, he felt nothing. Then… a whisper. A faint hum of energy, pulsing beneath the soil.

His heart pounded.

"Am I… sensing Qi?"

The idea spread like wildfire. One by one, the younger men imitated him, confused but determined. Their hands touched the soil. Their breaths slowed.

Qi responded.

For the first time, a simple farmer took his first step toward cultivation—without even realizing it.

And Chunhe?

He watched, amused, as rice and vegetables thrived unnaturally fast.

"Who knew being an isekai farmer could be this satisfying?"

Not satisfied, Chunhe took things further.

He reinforced the land with spirit crystals, forming a small cultivation array. If wandering cultivators saw this, they would be horrified.

"Using spirit stones… for farming?"

"Blasphemy."

"A waste of divine resources!"

But Chunhe had one rule:

"If it works, it's not stupid."

And it worked too well. The fields pulsed with life, crops growing twice as fast, their essence subtly enriched. Spiritually-enhanced rice?

Why not?

The farmers didn't realize it yet, but they were changing. The elder who once mocked him now sat in meditation every morning. The younger men copied his breathing techniques.

And the land itself throbbed with spiritual energy.

The farmers still thought they were simply tending their fields. They didn't notice how their bodies felt lighter. How their aches faded faster.

How, ever so subtly, they were growing stronger.

And Chunhe?

He stood at the edge of his flourishing field, smirking.

"Who needs money when I have a farm?"