The rumor did not stay within the village.
At first, it was just casual talk—something mentioned between farmers, dismissed with a laugh, then brought up again the next day.
But repetition gave it weight.
"…There's a field where the soil works with you."
"…A young man teaching strange farming methods."
"…People say it feels different there."
The words changed slightly each time, but the meaning remained.
And eventually, it reached someone who did not laugh.
A local overseer sat behind a wooden desk, listening with a faint frown.
"…You're telling me," he said slowly, "that a single field is producing better results without any clear reason?"
The messenger nodded.
"Yes, sir. Several villagers confirmed it."
The overseer tapped his fingers lightly against the table.
"Improved soil quality… increased efficiency…" he muttered. "And all because of one person?"
"That's what they claim."
Silence settled in the room.
The overseer leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly.
He didn't believe in rumors.
But he believed in results.
If something unusual was happening in his territory, he needed to see it himself.
"…Prepare a horse," he said.
"I'll go there personally."
—
Back at the field, the atmosphere remained calm.
The young man continued working as usual, unaware of anything beyond his immediate surroundings.
To him, nothing had changed.
People came.
People learned.
People improved.
That was simply the natural result of cultivation.
Nearby, a few villagers worked alongside him, their movements noticeably more relaxed than before.
"…It really does feel easier," one of them said quietly.
Another nodded.
"Less tiring too."
They didn't question it anymore.
They simply accepted it.
At the edge of the field, the old man stood still, watching both the people and the land.
His expression was more serious than before.
He had already noticed the pattern.
The changes were no longer subtle.
The crops were growing faster.
The soil was stabilizing beyond normal expectations.
Even the surrounding plants were improving.
"…This is attracting attention," he thought.
And attention—
was rarely a good thing.
He glanced at the young man.
Still calm.
Still focused.
Still unaware.
"…You don't realize what you're doing," the old man murmured softly.
But he didn't stop him.
Because deep down—
he also wanted to see how far this would go.