Root and Rain

The days passed gently, marked by quiet labor and the murmured music of rain on leaves. A week had gone by since Shen sowed his rice crop in the southern patch of his field, a labor that had settled a deeper peace into his bones. The field responded slowly, but clearly—vibrant green shoots pushing up through damp soil, their tender blades swaying whenever the wind wandered past.

And beside them, in the north-eastern edge of the field, four sprouts had already taken root.

Each one had been planted a week prior, born from the reward pouch he received after awakening the land. Shen still didn't know what each sprout would become. The Verdant Seed had gone into the soil first, but now it was just one of four. A leaf here gleamed with unusual luster. Another sapling's bark shimmered faintly even in shade. But their exact nature remained a mystery. Fruit-bearing trees, perhaps. Or spiritual flora of a kind he'd never seen before.

The pouch, though lighter now, had not yet emptied. One final seed remained.

He held it in his palm that morning, watching the rain mist lightly across the field. The little fox was sprawled beneath the eaves, belly up, paws twitching as she dreamed. Shen turned the seed over in his fingers.

Unlike the others, this one was warm.

Where the Verdant Seed had pulsed with vitality, this final one felt... aligned. It gave off no pressure, no radiance—just a strange, peaceful warmth. A stillness like the space between rainbeats.

He didn't need the system to tell him its purpose. It was meant to be planted now, during the Rain Season. That much was clear.

He chose a corner not far from the other saplings—close enough to care for, but far enough from the rice rows. With practiced ease, Shen dug into the wet soil. His movements were slower today, heavy from the long days of labor. Yet as his fingers pressed into the earth, something eased inside his chest.

No great system message rang out. No radiant aura burst from the seed. But when it touched the soil, it sank in without resistance. As if the land had been waiting.

The moment passed, soft as mist.

Shen stood, wiping his hands on his robe. "Let's see what you become," he murmured, and stepped back.

He spent the rest of the day refining the irrigation ditches he'd carved earlier in the week. Rain was a blessing, but only when properly guided. Rice thrived in flooded paddies—but saplings, too much water could drown.

Kneeling in mud and runoff, Shen diverted excess water through stone-lined trenches, letting it seep into a shallow basin on the edge of the field. The soil there was clay-heavy, resistant. He made a note to mix it with sand later. Maybe even compost, if he could find the right forest rot.

The fox, now dry and bored, trailed behind him with half-hearted interest, pouncing occasionally on worms.

As Shen straightened from his work, back aching, breath steaming slightly in the humid air, he felt it again:

A subtle thrum beneath his feet.

The land… pulsed.

Not a vibration. More like recognition.

Something was shifting—not in the soil, but in the air around it. The Growth Dao, once faint and nebulous, had thickened subtly since his first planting. It was easier to breathe now. The world felt more awake.

He crouched beside the rice paddies, watching water shimmer over the young green stalks. Their roots grasped the earth like eager fingers.

That night, sleep took him gently. The fox curled at his side. His hands were still sore with effort, his arms streaked with mud. But his heart…

His heart was light.

[SYSTEM TASK GENERATED]

Task: Cultivate What Has Been Sown

Condition: Tend the rice and sapling field daily for seven days.

Do not allow rot, pests, or imbalance to overtake the land.

Qi alignment must remain harmonious.

Reward: Seasonal Trait Evolution + Bonus Seed Reward (Rare)

He did not wake to words. But his dreams whispered of leaves unfolding and roots reaching toward a deeper rhythm.

End of Chapter 11