Chapter 1 - Illegal Farming

The boy woke earlier than usual. His heart racing with excitement. The crisp morning air drifted through the gaps in the window, carrying the earthy scent of dew-drenched grass and the faint smoke of nearby kitchens. The distant crow of roosters blended with the rustling of leaves as a gentle breeze stirred the trees. An unspoken promise of adventure filled the air, mingling with the fresh outdoor scent and infusing him with boundless energy. Sleep had eluded him the night before, his thoughts consumed by the day ahead.

Two months ago, he had carefully planted rare herbs between the rocks of the mountain, selecting his spots with precision. Each location formed a natural basin, a hollow surrounded by jagged rock formations. These basins were perfect for hiding the herbs from curious eyes; unless one scaled the rock walls surrounding them, the plants remained unseen at the heart of the basins. The arrangement allowed the herbs to bask in sunlight while remaining concealed.

For almost a year, he had painstakingly carried dirt and compost up the mountain, load by load, gradually filling the rocky basins to craft raised beds where the herbs could thrive. Now, at last, the moment had arrived.

It wasn't just the herbs themselves that consumed his thoughts, it was the secret behind how he had grown them. His method, discovered through countless months of trial and error, was his most closely guarded treasure. He had painstakingly learned that each plant demanded specific minerals and conditions, and uncovering these precise requirements had been a grueling task. The process was as delicate as it was innovative, and it was unlike anything anyone else knew. He couldn't risk it falling into the wrong hands.



The plant, though resembling a common cabbage at first glance, was smaller in size, with the largest specimens he had seen no bigger than the size of an average adult male's fist. More importantly, it bore a striking feature that set it apart: vivid red veins traced through its leaves like bloodlines on green parchment. This unique characteristic wasnt merely cosmetic; it hinted at the plants extraordinary properties. Not only was it a potent medicinal herb, but it was also an edible vegetable, prized by humans, mountain goats, rabbits, and even magical beasts.

Maturity brought its own complications. When the plant reached full growth, it shed its outer layer, releasing a subtle yet enticing scent. This aroma was irresistible to animals and dangerous in its allure to people especially those who knew its true value. His grandfather, for instance, would instantly recognize the scent and hunt for it, knowing it could be used to make medicine and, even if sold directly, would fetch a small fortune at market.

The thought of losing his precious harvest filled him with dread. The urgency pressed on him like a weight, driving him to act before anyone else could uncover his hidden work. Everything he had painstakingly sown was at stake.

His grandparents were still asleep so he moved carefully to avoid making noise. He grabbed his rattan bag and headed to the kitchen. There, he stuffed two pieces of baked sweet potato leftovers from last nights dinner and a small water bag made of animal skin into the bag. He also packed a sickle and some cloth to wrap the herbs. Grabbing another baked sweet potato to munch on, he took a gulp of cold tea since he doesn't want to spent any more time heating it.

With everything ready, he carefully closed the door behind him, ensuring he made no noise that might wake his grandparents. If they awoke, they will likely stop him from going to the mountain alone and will also bombard him with questions he couldn't answer without lying - something he wanted to avoid, especially with them.

This has been his routine for the past year, and he had been careful enough not to be discovered. But there had already been multiple close calls, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep it a secret. After all, he was quite busy - learning medicine from his senior, practicing martial arts, and more. Missing on those other daily routine will surely bring him questions, which could possibly expose his secret before its time.

Being a child, his grandparents weren't too strict with him, afraid that if they pushed too hard, he might rebel and choose a doomed path. Compared to other kids his age in the village, his family was doing well enough financially that he didn't need to work on the farm like them. They are just being responsible with him, like any responsible parents would act.

Being a child had its perks, but it wouldn't last much longer. Soon, he would turn twelve - the age when a boy was expected to take on adult responsibilities. When that time came, he wouldn't have this much freedom anymore.

Outside, the early morning light was bright enough for him to see the path leading to the mountain behind the house. This was a route he and his grandfather often took. Their home was nestled in a spot chosen specifically for its proximity to the forest at the mountains base, where they could gather herbs. His grandfather was the village doctor, and with the village chiefs help, the family had secured a small plot of land to build an apothecary.

Glassy Rock Village, where he lived, lay in Packabee County, under the dominion of the Red Velvet Kingdom. The mountain and its surrounding forest belonged to the kingdom, but villagers were permitted to collect plants, firewood, bamboo, and small game for daily use. Cultivating farmland or erecting permanent structures on the mountain was strictly prohibited. Such lands were usually reserved as rewards for ministers or individuals of merit. The villagers cherished this resource, as it provided them with free access to essential materials.

The cool, fresh air invigorated him, sharpening his senses and preparing him for the climb ahead. In the distance, roosters crowed, their calls blending with the faint rustle of early morning life. Dim lamplight flickered through the cracks in nearby houses, and the soft murmur of wives could be heard as they prepared breakfast for their families before the day's work in the fields.

Most villagers didn't own the land they farmed. They toiled on fields owned by nobles or wealthy merchants, cultivating rice, corn, and sweet potatoes. One-thirds of the harvest went to the landlords as rent, leaving just enough for the workers to survive. Yet, compared to the harsh conditions in neighboring counties, life here was relatively fair. The landlords treated the villagers with a modicum of respect, likely because of the watchful oversight of Magistrate Jagule.

Magistrate Jagule governed Glassy Rock Village and the surrounding lands with a reputation for fairness and diligence. Though the boy didn't know the details of how Jagule had risen from a humble origin to his current position, it was said that his achievements had been impressive enough to catch the emperors eye. His administration was efficient, and his justice swift. Any mistreatment of the people in his jurisdiction was met with stern repercussions. Those who dared exploit the villagers would find themselves answering for their actions. The boy had heard stories of nobles and merchants brought to heel under Jagule's watchful gaze, and he silently admired the magistrates dedication to fairness.

The path to the mountains base was peaceful, lined with trees and teeming with wildlife. There were no dangerous animals, only mosquitoes that buzzed around him. He had grown accustomed to them and quickly applied mosquito-repelling ointment, which drove the pests away. The real challenge lay higher up. The top of the mountain was rocky, with few large trees, making it an ideal hiding place for his secret. The rocks, made of glass-like obsidian, were sharp and slippery from weathering. If he weren't careful, they could cause serious injury.

The boy followed a small creek that had formed a natural path over time. Its clear waters gurgled softly, guiding him along the winding trail. The climb grew steeper, the dew-covered rocks requiring careful steps. As he moved, he couldn't help but feel a mix of exhilaration and focus. Each foothold demanded precision, and the faint, earthy smell of moss growing in the shaded crevices added a grounding comfort to his journey. His heart raced, not just from the exertion but from the thrill of nearing his secret garden, hidden high above the familiar world below. The sun hadn't fully risen, but the boys familiarity with the path gave him confidence. As he ascended, the forest began to thin, giving way to the barren, rocky terrain. He paused at the edge where the forest met the rocky incline, catching his breath.

At eleven years old, his fitness and martial arts training made the climb manageable. After a steady ascent, he selected a flat rock to rest on, stretching his limbs as his gaze swept over the village below. In this dangerous world, families with the means ensured their children learned martial arts. Its not just for self-defense, but also for the health benefits it provided.

His martial arts training had begun almost as soon as he could walk, under the watchful eye of his grandfather. According to his grandmother, they had once served a noble family, acting as attendants and bodyguards. However, his grandfather's true gift lay in medicine and traditional healing practices. He was renowned for his extensive knowledge of herbal remedies, acupuncture, and the art of crafting potions and pills. One of his most trusted remedies was a blend of ginseng and chrysanthemum brewed into a tonic to strengthen the body and boost energy, a potion he often administered to villagers suffering from fatigue. With acupuncture treatments, using precisely placed needles to ease chronic pain or improve blood and energy circulation earned him the villages unwavering respect.

After retiring from their noble service, the family had settled in this village, where fortune seemed to favor them. The previous village doctor had passed away, leaving a vacancy that his grandfather was uniquely qualified to fill. With his knowledge of both martial and medicinal arts, he quickly became an indispensable figure in the community, earning both respect and gratitude for his ability to heal and protect.

From this vantage point, he could see the sparse collection of about twenty houses, most hidden behind a row of hills. The sight stirred memories of his past life. Images flickered in his mind, blurry and dream like fragments of a world where towering buildings touched the clouds, streets hummed with strange vehicles, and faces of loved ones smiled amid an alien yet familiar backdrop. Those faces, once vivid, had softened into indistinct shapes, leaving him to wonder if they were real or figments of his imagination, conjured by a mind yearning for something lost.



After a deep sigh, he took a steadying breath and leaped into the air, striking a playful rising dragon punch pose to shake off the tension and invigorate himself. With a renewed sense of energy, he continued along the rocky path, careful not to let the sharp edges catch his feet. Soon, he veered left onto an unmarked trail that wound through the uneven terrain. The trail led to a large rock, about 150 meters away, where the first patch of herbs awaited him.

The path was treacherous, with the dew and moss making the rocks slippery and the jagged edges sharp. Each step required careful attention, and he moved slowly, testing each foothold before committing to it. The journey, though short, took him ten cautious minutes. When he finally reached the large rock, he exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief at having navigated the dangerous trail without mishap.

There, nestled between the towering rocks in a shallow depression, grew the Red Veined Horse Cabbages. Their deep red veins shimmered like rubies under the morning sun, contrasting against the lush green leaves. The boy knelt, his fingers gently brushing over the leaves. They were flawless, plump, vibrant, and untouched by pests. A surge of pride filled his chest. His grandfather had always said that the finest medicine came from the finest herbs, and today, the boy was proving he had the potential to become a healer in his own right.

Its rarity lent it an almost mythical status, inspiring a mix of awe and determination in the boy as he gazed upon it. A deep sense of accomplishment and pride swelled within him, knowing that he had unlocked the secret to cultivating such a remarkable plant - a feat that had eluded so many before him.

For years, people had tried and failed to grow it. The plant didn't sprout from seeds; instead, it spread through tiny spores hidden in its leaves, spores that were now shedding into the air. These shaded leaves, with their delicate, curled edges, would be carefully harvested to serve as seeds for the next batch. Another step in ensuring the cycle of cultivation continued. The spores remained dormant for nearly a year, waiting for the right conditions springtime and an existence of mana in the soil. Without mana, the spores wouldn't even germinate, no matter how perfect the soil was. This explained why the plant seemed to appear randomly, flourishing only in places with magical energy.

The boy had stumbled upon this discovery by accident. While cleaning the apothecary, he had found a small red sprout hidden among some leftover herbs and ashes. Intrigued, he recognized it as a Red Veined Horse Cabbage sprout and, hopeful, he planted it outside the apothecary. Despite his care, the sprout withered and died. For a time, he was disappointed, and the failed attempt slipped from his mind. That is, until it happened again.. another sprout, identical to the first, appeared in the same place.

Something told him that finding this rare sprout twice within the apothecary wasn't mere coincidence. He began to entertain the possibility that there was a deeper reason behind it. This time, determined not to fail, he carefully tested his theories, recreating the conditions of the soil and environment he thought might be necessary. And, succeeded in sprouting several plants. With the success, excitement and motivation surged within him. His determination grew stronger as he continued testing and refining his methods, and successfully grew a few fully developed plants.

Through these experiments, he discovered the key: mixing Magic Core Dust with soil and compost seemed to encourage germination. Planting the herbs in cool, shaded areas with traces of mana in the air helped them thrive.

From what he had learned from his grandfather, Magic Core Dust was made from depleted Elemental Cores or Spirit Stones. His grandfather had explained that Mana Cores, roughly the size of a marble and about 1 cm in diameter, could manifest at various stages of life in certain animals, humans, magical beasts, and even plants. Spirit Stones, similar in nature, were naturally occurring stones that absorbed and stored mana. They were prized by martial artists and magic cultivators for the mana they contained. Using special techniques, practitioners could absorb the mana from Mana Cores and Spirit Stones to enhance their own power. Once depleted, these stones became fragile like glass and often discarded as their value diminished by the loss of their potency.

Craftsmen, medicine makers, and others occasionally ground up emptied Magic Cores and Spirit Stones into Magic Core Dust, using it as a catalyst in various crafting processes. This was exactly what had happened in his grandfathers apothecary, which was why the dust had been mixed in with the pile of residue where the boy had found the sprouts. The boy theorized that something in the dust allowed it to slowly absorb mana again though not as efficiently as in its original form, it still retained enough power to help the plants accumulate the mana they needed for growth. This theory seemed increasingly plausible with each passing day with the success of his experiments. The one thing that was certain was that this discovery had given the boy a reliable method to cultivate the elusive Red Veined Horse Cabbage.

Though his grandfather and his older senior apprentices had grown used to his herb-growing hobby, he hadn't shared his secret. In a world without patents or copyright laws, revealing such a discovery could lead to exploitation or might even harm livelihoods of others, especially people with similar trades. He dreamed of helping others but knew he had to be cautious.

Furthermore, he knew he couldn't reveal his secret to anyone, not yet. He needed to make 50 silver coins, or 5,000 copper coins within the next three days. There was something he really needed to buy, something that might hold the key to the burning questions that had haunted him since his arrival in this world: How and why had he, someone from another world, ended up here?