Time flew by; in the blink of an eye, the snot-nosed kid from back then was already thirteen years old.
Wiping a bead of sweat rolling down my forehead, I tossed the hoe onto the ground and leaned my back against the old banyan tree right at the village gate. The late afternoon sky was a fiery red, and the passing breeze carried the pungent smell of mud. Gently massaging my aching biceps after a long day of helping my father with the farming, I tilted my head back to look at the swaying canopy, my mind beginning to wander again.
Come to think of it, in my previous life, I used to work myself to the bone chasing deadlines, grinding day and night to pass my classes, thinking that coming to this fantasy world would let me be a heroic champion, holding a beauty in my left arm and punching the demon lord with my right. Who would have thought life is not a dream; even after getting isekai'd, I still had to hoe the fields. Truly, fate spares no one. When times change, whether you are an engineer or a doctor, you still end up hoeing dirt all the same.
But hoeing the dirt had its perks.
At thirteen, I had confirmed the truth I had suspected since I was a toddler: Magic here operates on a system of lengthy incantations rather than concise mathematical equations. My mana core is the engine, and my body is the chassis. The deadlock lies in the fact that this engine is utter trash.
Over the past years, I had been helping my father with farming while spending my remaining time training my physique. I practiced the grueling physical exercises I had endured during my two years of military service to increase my stamina, and secretly compiled mathematical formulas into magical syllables... but kept it completely hidden. My stamina did indeed increase, and my body's endurance noticeably improved, but...
I let out a heavy sigh.
Even though I could use mathematics to fine-tune the input parameters of the magic to optimize the trajectory of a marble-sized ice cube floating above my hand, I remained completely clueless about the foundational principles required to increase the output performance of my mana.
Utterly powerless.
I opened my right hand, focusing my intent. A stream of cold air condensed. Snap.
An ice cube the size of a... marble appeared, hovering above my palm.
It looked so pathetic that I couldn't bear to call it magic. What one-star magic? This was probably only worth 0.1 stars; throwing it into a cup of water to cool down might be its only use. If I ever brought this kind of "power" to the battlefield, the enemy would probably die choking on their laughter before they even had to fight.
But, I smirked. Trash it may be, but I have the playstyle of the trash.
Instead of trying to cram more mana into that tiny ice cube—something my broken mana core would not allow—I closed my eyes. In my head, numbers began to crunch. Spatial coordinate axes emerged. Instead of chanting incantations like the native mages, I used BASIC mathematical equations (it's calculus, so don't think it's basic), calculating the trajectory, acceleration, and angle.
With just a thought, the ice cube began to move.
It didn't just fly in a crude, straight line. It glided through the air, drawing exquisite curves, weaving around my fingers like a living creature, and then suddenly turning sharply along the trajectory of a cubic function. So smooth, so seamless.
I opened my eyes, watching the dancing ice cube. Throughout this entire process, I hadn't uttered a single syllable of an incantation.
People in this world are overly dependent on "chants." A chant is essentially just a leverage tool for the brain to visualize the shape of the magic. Once you clearly understand the nature of it, once your mind already holds the variables and coordinates, reciting an incantation is merely a redundant act of rote learning. Magic stems from logical thinking and the creative deployment of mana, not from a few rhyming sentences.
Watching the flawless trajectory of the ice cube, a flash of light gleamed in my eyes.
A weak mana core? It didn't matter. If I couldn't use overwhelming firepower, I would use absolute precision calculation to compensate. By delicately manipulating the surrounding magic instead of draining myself, I had found my own unique path. My future, certainly, would not be buried at the foot of this banyan tree.
"Muuuuuuuuuu"
A low, dull bellow rang out, severing the glorious vision that had just begun to bloom in my head. I slowly turned around. Channy (the cow) belonging to the village chief was loudly chewing a mouthful of dry hay, staring at me with her large, round, pitch-black eyes. The smacking sound of her chewing echoed rhythmically. She looked at me, I looked back at her. The scene was terrifyingly silent, with only the faint smell of cow dung wafting by like a slap from reality.
The dream, having just reached orbit, was dragged right back down into the mud.
Immersed in admiring the flying ice cube, I unconsciously let out another long sigh. The pinnacle of creativity only amounted to this. No matter how smoothly I could use mathematics to optimize its trajectory, the painful truth remained: I was still completely blind to the magical foundations of this world.
To upgrade the "software," I needed data. And the data here was magic books.
The problem was, in this remote, poverty-stricken village, the dilapidated library only contained crop records and a handful of love poems. Even if I searched until my eyes bled, I wouldn't find a single word about magic.
"How depressing," I muttered, rubbing my temples.
The thought of venturing to the big cities was even more discouraging. The one time my parents emptied their life savings for me to take a trip to the city, I was kicked out by an elegant library guard, simply because of my torn linen shirt and mud-caked feet. Despite my attempts to explain, he just coldly pointed to the "No Commoners Allowed" sign on the door. From then on, I knew just how harsh this world was. And even if I managed to get in, emptying my pockets would probably only buy a few one-star magic books.
As for magic books of two stars and above? Forget it. The nobles and the royal family hoarded them like cats burying their feces. The security was so tight that even a fly passing by would have its ancestry checked for three generations. If you wanted to touch that advanced knowledge, unless you were born at the finish line, or had money—a lot of money.
A damn P2W (pay-to-win) world. Without money, without a launchpad, you are permanently stuck at the bottom of society, carrying a hoe to the fields every day and returning. Even if you train your physique to the point of shattering rocks with a punch, you'd still just be a meat shield for those noble mages to blast their spells into.
I leaned my head back in frustration, rubbing my back against the rough bark of the banyan tree.
The sun began to dip behind the mountains, leaving streaks of evening glow across the sky. The field breeze blew gently, carrying the slight chill of dusk. If it weren't for the heavy burden of the future resting on my shoulders, I might have been able to enjoy this rare peace. While I was daydreaming, a soft rustle sounded above my head. A yellowed banyan leaf detached from its branch, fluttering downwards.
Instinct took over. In a split second, my brain automatically activated.
Gravitational acceleration. Wind resistance. A 30-degree falling angle.
I gave my finger a slight flick. Not a single sound, not a single cumbersome incantation.
Swoosh.
The tiny ice cube tore through the wind. It didn't follow a conventional straight line but curved in a sharp semicircle, dodging a dry branch to pin itself perfectly dead center into the falling leaf with absolute precision. The kinetic energy was just enough to pin the leaf firmly to the tree trunk a few meters away without tearing it.
Before I even had time to be smug about my mathematical snipe, a strange sound shattered the tranquil atmosphere.
Clop, clop... clop, clop...
The steady rhythm of horse hooves striking the dirt road, mixed with the creaking of carriage axles.
I was startled and turned around. A massive carriage was slowly approaching, stopping right in the shadow of the village's banyan tree. Just at a glance, I immediately knew this thing did not belong in this middle-of-nowhere place. The glossy black paint reflected the sunset, exquisite gold-plated trims ran along the body, and most importantly, a crest featuring some sort of animal was prominently carved on the door—all of it reeked of money, a lot of money.
The carriage door opened.
A young woman stepped down.
If my group of friends from my past life saw this scene, they would definitely scream "national wife" or "real-life waifu." It was an elegant, haughty, and incredibly flawless beauty, as precise as a sculpted masterpiece. Her raven-black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, accentuating her deep, sharp, sapphire blue eyes. She wore a dress so magnificent that I bet the cost of the fabric alone equaled the entire village's combined income for a decade.
Closely following behind her was a middle-aged man with a thin frame and graying hair. He wore a crisply tailored suit, the very standard of a professional butler.
The two of them did not head toward the village; instead, they directed their steps straight toward me.
A red alert automatically blared in my head. Danger signal: "Commoner meets Noble" protocol.
With the experience gathered from dozens of fast-food isekai series combined with the survival skills of a student accustomed to weaving through exams, I knew for sure these were not some petty nobles out for a leisurely stroll. This aura, this carriage... they had to be at least of Marquis rank or higher.
Without a second of hesitation, I immediately sprang to my feet. My hands swiftly brushed off the dirt clinging to my trouser legs, and I smoothed down my messy hair as neatly as possible. Even though my torn linen shirt and mud-caked feet could not hide my peasant status, at the very least, I couldn't let myself look like an insolent brat in front of people who held the power of life and death in this strictly hierarchical world.
I stood at attention, timidly bowing my head slightly, assuming the perfect posture of a lowly "NPC" waiting for VIP characters to interact.
They stopped about two steps away from me. A faint, luxurious perfume scent wafted over, overpowering the pungent muddy smell of the fields. I held my breath, carefully keeping my gaze directed down at the butler's polished leather shoes, waiting for their move.
Deep down, the "trouble radar" of a former engineering student was ringing with deafening warning bells. Just one minute of an itchy trigger finger solving mathematical equations with ice, and it seemed I had accidentally attracted the attention of the very people I absolutely should not mess with in this world.
End of Chapter 2