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Gu Hong wakes up in a fantasy world with a Hearthstone system, granting him the power to summon legendary heroes like Anduin, Jaina, and Rexxar. But when his plans for conquest hit a snag, he stumbles upon an unexpected truth: this system isn’t just for combat—it’s a game-changer for farming!
Agriculture? Druids who accelerate crop growth.
Commerce? Mushroom Brewers, Trogg Beastmasters, and enterprising merchants.
Crafting? Swordsmiths, Armorers, and even Drakonid blacksmiths.
Magic gear? Alchemists, Enchanters, Jewelcrafters, and Scribes at your service.
Culture? A romance novel-savvy bookseller to spice things up.
He finally realizes: farming is the ultimate strategy to unlock the Hearthstone system’s true potential.

Lord of Farming in Hearthstone

Before Sean could speak, Windsor asked, "Sean—is this… a new world? These furnishings don't match Azeroth." His gaze wandered, mirroring Sean's own initial confusion.

"You're right. This isn't Azeroth." Sean nodded.

"A second chance at life… even if not in my homeland." Windsor's voice held sorrow, gratitude, and lingering doubt. Sean remained silent, unsure how to comfort him.

Once Windsor composed himself, Sean ventured, "What did you do in Azeroth?" Embarrassingly, he couldn't recall where he'd heard the name Windsor.

"Ah, it begins with the storming of Medivh's Tower…" Windsor's eyes misted as he recounted his past.

Reginald Windsor had served under Anduin Lothar, storming the tower of Medivh—the mightiest mortal mage of Azeroth. There, he'd glimpsed his fate: death by a black dragon's claws. Decades later, as Marshal of Stormwind, he'd uncovered Onyxia's plot, choosing to expose the truth despite his preordained end.

Sean listened, awestruck. A Marshal of Stormwind! No wonder golden cards were so rare.

After half an hour, Windsor finished. "Now, tell me of this world. What manner of place is this?" He clenched a fist, gray energy (the system's approximation of this world's "douqi" martial energy) swirling around it. "This power… feels weak." He frowned in disdain.

Sean hesitated. Fragmented memories made it hard to explain the world's mechanics. But perhaps Windsor could help with their current predicament. "We're in Yorn City, the only major settlement in southwestern Lane Duchy. I'm Duke Albert's fourth son, exiled after clashing with him over nobles' treatment of commoners… (omitted 200 words)… My entire retinue was slain, supplies stolen by bandits. What should I do next?"

Windsor listened intently. "A fiefdom would provide stability, but without funds or safe passage, it's impossible. Selling the fief for temporary security might work."

Before he could elaborate, Windsor stiffened, staring at the door. "Someone approaches—at the threshold."

"A servant, likely. You shouldn't be seen." Sean activated the system, focusing on [Dismiss].

"System? What—" Windsor vanished mid-sentence, his shield dissolving with him.

The [Dismiss] button reverted to green, while [Summon] for other minions remained gray. Only one minion at a time.

"Enter!" Sean dismissed the hologram.

A familiar servant bowed. "Lord Sean, Count Rivers' steward awaits in the parlor. He requests an audience."

Surprised—the Count and steward had been absent for days—Sean agreed. After changing clothes, he followed the servant.

In the parlor, a middle-aged man in a black tailcoat stood abruptly. "Lord Sean, I am William, Count Rivers' steward. Please accept our apologies for the delay. The Count spent these past days eradicating the bandits who attacked you, recovering over 200 enemy sigils."

"Truly? They're eliminated?" Sean straightened.

William paused. "The bandits torched their camp upon realizing defeat. Everything was lost—except coins and metal sigils."

"The Count returned this morning and requests your presence immediately. He has urgent matters to discuss."

Chapter 4: The Count’s Steward Arrives