The rain fell through the night, a steady, drumming symphony on the thatch that was both a comfort and a threat. Comfort, because it meant their water jar would be replenished and the compost pile would be moistened. Threat, because a heavy downpour could flood the coop or chill the chicks. Lin Yan lay awake for a long time, not from anxiety over the weather, but from the luminous, tangible presence of the unlocked System Shop glowing in his mind's eye.
Eighty points. A fortune earned through vigilance, negotiation, and sheer gritty hustle. The list of offerings was short but potent. Each item was a direct answer to a current or imminent problem. He spent the dark hours not sleeping, but conducting a ruthless cost-benefit analysis in the theater of his mind.
The Enhanced Foraging Seed Mix (15 Points) was tempting. It promised to jumpstart the healing of their barren soil and provide a sustainable, high-protein food source for the chickens. But planting now, just before winter, was risky. The seeds might sprout only to be killed by frost, wasting the investment.
The Simple Poultry Tonic Recipe (25 Points) was practical. Boosting disease resistance was insurance against the plagues that could wipe out a flock overnight. But it required herbs he might not have, and the chicks were healthy for now.
The 'Vermin-Proof' Granary Liner Blueprint (30 Points) was a direct result of their windfall. Protecting their precious barley hoard was paramount. But they didn't have a proper granary yet, just a pot.
The Basic Tool Maintenance Kit (20 Points) was fundamental. Their tools were their extended hands; keeping them sharp and functional was a force multiplier for all labor.
In the end, strategy won over immediate desire. He made his choices as the first pallid light of a rain-washed dawn seeped into the hut.
He allocated 30 Points for the Granary Liner Blueprint. The knowledge flowed into him: a specific ratio of clay, fine sand, wood ash, and a small amount of crushed, prickly plant material to create a plaster that dried rock-hard and was unpleasant for rodents to gnaw or climb. They could line their existing storage pot and any future containers.
Next, 20 Points for the Tool Maintenance Kit. A small, worn-looking leather pouch materialized in the temporary system storage. He retrieved it discreetly, feeling the satisfying weight of the sharpening stone and the small clay vial of oil within.
He saved the remaining 30 Points. The seed mix would be a spring purchase. The tonic recipe could wait until they had a herb garden.
[Points: 30/100. Shop Tier 1 remains open. Next Tier unlock: 300 Points + 'Livestock Diversification' Milestone.]
Three hundred points. A distant mountain. But now he had a path to climb it.
The morning revealed a world washed clean and sparkling. The fence stood strong, beaded with rainwater. The coop was dry inside, the chicks bustling and noisy. The compost pile steamed slightly in the cool air—a good sign of microbial activity.
After the morning ritual (Points: 35/100), Lin Yan called a family council. He presented the 'granary liner' knowledge as another revelation from his ancestral dream, focusing on the practical recipe. "We have barley now. We must protect it as fiercely as we protect the chicks. Today, we make this plaster and seal our storage."
Lin Qiang, examining the imaginary formula with a craftsman's eye, nodded. "Clay and ash we have. The sand from the creek bed is fine enough. The prickly material… thistle fibers? Crushed rose stems?"
"Thistle down mixed with the plaster might work," Lin Yan agreed, impressed by his brother's quick adaptation. "We'll experiment."
Wang Shi and the women took charge of processing the barley, winnowing it a final time to remove every speck of chaff and dirt. The golden heap was a mesmerizing sight. Lin Dashan and Xiaoshan went to gather the materials for the plaster.
Lin Yan took Lin Gang aside. "Brother, our tools." He showed him the maintenance kit. "The dream showed me this too. A way to keep the bite in our blades." He demonstrated on the old axe head, applying a few drops of oil and working the stone in a careful, circular motion along the edge. The difference was subtle but real—a smoother cut, a keener gleam.
Lin Gang, a man who understood the language of metal and wood, took the stone with something akin to reverence. "This… this is good knowledge, Second Brother." He immediately set to work on his hatchet and their one sickle.
The day became a symphony of synchronized industry. By midday, they had a thick, gray paste of clay, sand, ash, and finely chopped thistle leaves. They carefully coated the inside of their largest, deepest storage pot, smoothing it to a uniform thickness. They set it by the hearth to dry slowly, the warm, dry air being ideal.
The rain had stopped, leaving the world muddied but fresh. It was then that Er Niu arrived, not with his usual boisterous energy, but with a troubled look. "Yan-ge. There's a problem at the north pasture. Old Man Chen's ox. It's gotten loose, gone half-mad. Chased his grandson up a tree. It's trampling through the boundary fences, heading towards the woods… towards your land."
An ox. A massive, powerful beast, easily ten times the weight of a man. Their beautiful, painstakingly built wicker fence would be kindling before it.
Lin Yan's blood ran cold. This was an order-of-magnitude greater threat than a fox. "Is anyone trying to stop it?"
"Old Chen is weeping and wailing. His sons are afraid. The beast has a thorn or something deep in its hoof, they think. It's in terrible pain, lashing out."
A pained animal. Unpredictable. Dangerous. But an ox was also an immense asset, the engine of a farm. Letting it run wild meant it could injure itself further, or be lost to the woods. And if it rampaged through their plot…
"Gang, Qiang, with me," Lin Yan said, already moving. "Father, you and the women stay inside with the children. Bar the door." He grabbed a long, stout pole they hadn't used for the fence. Not a weapon, but a barrier. Lin Gang instinctively took the newly sharpened axe. Lin Qiang grabbed two coiled ropes.
"Yan'er, don't be a fool!" Wang Shi cried, her face pale.
"We can't let it ruin what we've built," Lin Yan said, his voice tight. "And a wounded ox… it's a tragedy. We try to help. If we can't, we get out of its way."
They followed Er Niu at a run, splashing through muddy ruts. The 'north pasture' was a common grazing area for the village's few large animals. As they approached, they heard the deep, distressed bellow of the ox and the shouts of men keeping a safe distance.
The scene was chaotic. The ox—a huge, brindled creature with wide, sweeping horns—was limping in a tight, angry circle, its head lowered. One hind leg was held awkwardly off the ground. A broken fence rail lay splintered nearby. Old Man Chen was indeed on his knees in the mud, distraught. His two grown sons stood well back, holding sticks uselessly.
The ox's wild circle was bringing it closer to the tree line that bordered the Lin property. A few more charges and it would be through.
"Its right hind hoof!" Er Niu pointed. Even from a distance, they could see the hoof was held at an angle. Something was very wrong.
Lin Yan's mind raced. Veterinary knowledge from his old world was general, not specific to ancient bovine trauma. But pain was pain. The animal was terrified and hurting. Approaching it from the rear or the side was suicide. They had to calm it, somehow.
"We need to get its head down and immobilized," he shouted over the noise. "A rope on the horns, one on the good hind leg. Pull it off balance."
"Who's going to get close enough to put a rope on its horns?" Lin Qiang asked, his face skeptical.
"I will," Lin Gang said, his voice a low rumble. He handed the axe to Lin Yan. "I'm the strongest. I can move fast if it charges." He took one of the ropes, fashioning a quick, loose loop.
"No, Brother," Lin Yan said, a plan crystallizing. "Not you." He looked at the ox, at its pained, rolling eyes. He thought of the 'Pioneer Aura'—a subtle influence on outcomes within his territory. This wasn't his territory yet, but the beast was heading toward it. He thought of the system's unspoken principle: stewardship. This wasn't just about defense; it was about responsibility for the life that fell within your sphere.
"Give me the rope," Lin Yan said.
"Yan'er, you're mad!" Lin Dashan, who had ignored orders and followed, grabbed his arm.
"It's not strength it needs to see," Lin Yan said, pulling his arm free. "It needs to see no threat. I'm the smallest. I'm the least threatening. And the dream… it showed me something of animal humors." It was a desperate lie, but it was all he had. He took the rope from a stunned Lin Gang.
He didn't run. He didn't wave his arms. He walked slowly, deliberately, away from the ox's head, towards its flank, but at a diagonal, making himself visible in its peripheral vision. He kept his body loose, his gaze not on its eyes but on its wounded hoof.
The ox stopped its circling, its head swinging towards this new, slow-moving object. It snorted, a blast of steam in the damp air. The villagers watching held their breath.
Lin Yan began to hum. It was a tuneless, low sound, something to replace the shouts of fear. He channeled every ounce of calm he didn't feel, projecting an aura of stillness. He remembered a documentary about temple elephants, how handlers would speak softly and touch gently.
He was now within twenty feet. The ox could cover that in two seconds. Its muscles tensed.
"Easy… easy…" Lin Yan murmured, not in a command, but in a soothing rhythm. "Let's see the trouble…" He kept moving, not towards the head, but angling to come up alongside its shoulder, where it could see him clearly without feeling directly challenged.
Ten feet. The ox's great head turned to follow him, but it didn't charge. The pain was its primary focus. Lin Yan was a secondary curiosity.
Now alongside it, he slowly, so slowly he felt time dilate, reached out his empty hand. Not to touch, but to let the beast smell him. The ox's wet, black nose twitched. It blew out another snort, but the aggression seemed to lessen a fraction, replaced by a wary confusion.
Still humming, Lin Yan let the coiled rope slide quietly to the ground. He kept his empty hand extended. Then, with infinite care, he took one small step closer, and laid his palm flat against the ox's warm, sweaty shoulder.
The hide twitched, but the ox didn't move away. The contact was made.
"Good… good…" Lin Yan whispered. He applied gentle, steady pressure, a leaning weight. "Now, let's lift the foot. Let's see."
As if guided by his voice and the steady pressure, the ox, still fixated on this strange, calm human, shifted its weight off the bad leg with a grunt of pain.
Lin Yan swiftly bent down. The problem was immediately clear. A sharp, thick shard of blackthorn, as long as a man's hand, was driven deep into the soft part of the hoof, just above the hard outer wall. It was wedged in terribly, and the hoof was hot and swollen. Every step ground it deeper.
"I see it!" Lin Yan called back, his voice steady. "A thorn. Deep. It needs to come out, now. Gang, bring the axe—the flat side. Qiang, the other rope, get ready on its good hind leg when I say."
Emboldened by Lin Yan's success, Lin Gang approached cautiously with the axe. Lin Qiang and Er Niu moved to flank the ox's other side with the second rope.
"Old Chen!" Lin Yan called. "Do you have any strong liquor? Any at all?"
The old man, shocked out of his stupor, nodded frantically. "A little rice wine! For offerings!"
"Bring it! And clean cloth!"
Lin Yan kept one hand on the ox's shoulder, maintaining the connection. With the other, he pointed to the thorn. "Gang, when I pull this out, it will jerk. Be ready to press the flat of the axe here, on the leg tendon above the hoof, firm pressure. It might startle it into putting weight back on the foot, which is good."
Lin Gang positioned himself, his face set in stone.
This was the moment. Lin Yan took a deep breath, wrapped his hand around the protruding end of the thorn, and with a single, brutal, decisive yank, pulled it free.
The ox bellowed in agony and jerked violently. Lin Gang slammed the flat of the axe head against its leg. The ox, surprised, shifted its weight onto the wounded hoof, then immediately lifted it again, but the motion had happened. Dark, foul-smelling pus welled from the deep puncture.
Old Chen arrived, panting, with a small ceramic bottle and a rag. Lin Yan poured the raw rice wine directly into the gaping hole. The ox shuddered and bawled, but the initial shock was over. The worst pain—the grinding pressure—was gone.
"Now, the rope!" Lin Yan ordered.
While the ox was distracted by the new, cleansing sting, Lin Qiang and Er Niu looped the second rope around its good hind leg and pulled, not to trip it, but to keep it slightly off balance and distracted. Lin Gang quickly threw the first rope over its horns and took the strain.
The ox resisted, but its heart wasn't in a fight anymore. The blinding, focused pain had been removed. It was tired, confused, and now surrounded by determined, calm humans.
With Lin Gang leading from the front on the horn rope and the others guiding from the sides, they managed to walk the limping, but now compliant, ox back towards Old Man Chen's holding pen. The village watched in stunned silence.
Once the ox was secured in its sturdy pen, Lin Yan examined the hoof again. "It needs to be kept clean. Pack it with clean mud and honey if you have it, to draw out more poison. Change it daily. Don't let him walk on it for at least a week."
Old Man Chen grasped Lin Yan's hands, his own gnarled fingers trembling. "Boy… Lin Yan… you saved my grandson. You saved my ox. My family…" Tears streamed down his weathered face. "I have nothing to give you. I am a poor old man."
Lin Yan looked at the ox, then at the broken boundary fence the ox had destroyed—a fence that wasn't his. He looked at the watching villagers, their expressions changed from fear and mockery to something new: respect, curiosity, awe.
"You have something, Grandfather Chen," Lin Yan said, his voice carrying in the quiet. "When your ox is healed, and our… our project is further along, we may need to borrow his strength for a day. To break hard ground. Would you consider a trade? A day of his labor for… let's say, a basket of eggs from our hens, when they lay?"
It was a forward-thinking offer, leveraging a future asset for a future need. It was also a public declaration of his confidence. When they lay.
Old Chen nodded eagerly. "Yes! Yes! A fair trade! A most fair trade!"
The crisis was over. As they walked home, mud-splattered and exhausted, the Lin brothers moved differently. Lin Gang looked at his younger brother with undisguised admiration. Lin Qiang's skepticism was utterly shattered, replaced by a thoughtful, calculating respect. Lin Dashan walked with his back straighter than it had been in years.
They had not just defended their land; they had extended their influence. They had turned a potential disaster into a social contract, a promise of future cooperation.
That evening, as they ate a meal that tasted of victory, however humble, a new system notification appeared, not just for Lin Yan, but with a different tone.
[Milestone Achieved: 'Community Standing Shift.']
[Host's actions have altered local perception from 'Pitiable Frail Family' to 'Resourceful, Capable Unit.' Prestige in Willow Creek: Low, but Positive.]
[Reward: 'Basic Animal Husbandry (Bovine)' knowledge unlocked. 20 System Points.]
Knowledge of cattle care—hoof trimming, basic ailments, feeding needs—settled into his mind. And the points were a bounty.
[Total System Points: 55/100.]
And then, a separate, quieter message.
[Personal Note: Host demonstrated 'Stewardship' beyond system directives. This is the core principle. Remember: you cultivate life, in all its forms. The land, the beasts, the people. This is the way.]
It wasn't a reward. It was a validation.
Later, as he checked on the chicks by rushlight, the granary pot drying nicely by the hearth, Lin Yan felt the vast, quiet weight of the path ahead. But he no longer felt alone beneath it. He had his family, united. He had the first flickers of community respect. He had a system that didn't just give tools, but recognized intent.
He looked out the door at their enclosed mu, silvered by a rising moon. The wicker fence stood strong. Beyond it, in the dark, was a world of challenges, debts, and predators.
But within the fence was a pot of grain, a pile of warming compost, five sleeping birds, and the unshakeable resolve of a family that had learned, in one muddy, terrifying afternoon, that they could face down an enraged ox and win.
The ranch was no longer just an idea or a fence. It was a reputation beginning to grow, as quietly and surely as the seeds he would one day plant in the once-barren earth.
[System Note: Host has passed an unplanned trial. Community integration has begun. The foundation is now social as well as physical. Proceed with wisdom.]