The field had grown quiet.
Not the calm, natural quiet it had before—
but a restrained silence.
Everyone was watching.
The overseer stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on the young man. The earlier demonstration had removed any doubt—something unusual was happening here.
And that made it a problem.
"You said this is cultivation," the overseer began slowly.
The young man nodded.
"Yes."
"Then explain how it works."
The question was direct.
Simple.
But heavy.
The villagers exchanged uneasy glances. Even they were curious now. They had felt the effects, but none of them truly understood what was happening.
The young man, however, did not hesitate.
"It is alignment," he said calmly. "When one stops forcing the earth and instead follows its natural flow, the result improves."
The overseer frowned slightly.
"That is philosophy," he said. "Not method."
"It is both," the young man replied.
The overseer's gaze sharpened.
"Then show me something repeatable. Something measurable."
The young man paused for the first time.
Not because he didn't believe in what he said—
but because the request itself felt… misplaced.
"…Cultivation is not something that can be forced into demonstration," he answered after a moment.
A ripple of tension spread through the villagers.
That sounded dangerously close to refusal.
The overseer's expression hardened slightly.
"Everything that produces results can be demonstrated," he said. "If it cannot, then it is unreliable."
The young man looked at him steadily.
"It can be experienced."
"That is not enough."
Silence.
The air felt heavier now.
The old man, who had been standing quietly at the edge of the field, finally spoke.
"He's not lying."
Both the overseer and the young man turned toward him.
The old man stepped forward slowly.
"I've seen the changes myself," he continued. "The soil is improving. The crops are healthier. The results are real."
The overseer looked at him carefully.
"…And you understand how it works?"
The old man paused.
Then shook his head.
"No."
That answer made the situation even more complicated.
The overseer looked back at the young man.
"You claim knowledge," he said. "Yet even those closest to you cannot explain it."
The young man remained calm.
"Understanding comes with time."
The overseer narrowed his eyes slightly.
"…Or it never comes at all."
He turned and walked a few steps across the field, looking at the land again.
Everything pointed to one fact:
This place was different.
But the reason behind it remained unclear.
And that—
was unacceptable.
He stopped walking.
Then spoke without turning back.
"You will come with me tomorrow."
The words fell heavily.
A few villagers gasped quietly.
The young man tilted his head slightly.
"…For what purpose?"
The overseer turned back, his expression firm.
"To explain this properly."