A New Beginning
Wei woke before dawn.
He lay with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. The wooden beams were the same ones he had stared at as a child, counting the knots when he couldn't sleep. Back then, his worries had been small. Now the barn was full of a stranger and his sick son, the neighbors had left with anger in their hearts, and somewhere in the hills, goblins watched and waited.
He turned his head toward the window. The sky was still black, but there was a thin line of grey on the horizon. Morning was coming.
He checked his status.
```
Strength: 7.6
Agility: 7.3
Physical Resilience: 7.4
Intelligence: 7.4
Stamina: 7.4
Mana: 468
Credits: 569
Experience: 391/1000 toward Tier 3
```
Five hundred sixty-nine credits. Still short of the wall upgrade, but closer. He would need to save more.
He dressed quickly and went outside.
---
The air was cold, but there was no frost. The Tree of Life glowed softly in the courtyard, its leaves rustling in the pre-dawn breeze.
Hei trotted toward him, his leg no longer limping. The old dog's fur had grown thicker over the past day, with a faint gold sheen along his spine. His eyes were brighter, sharper. He pressed his head against Wei's hand.
A panel appeared.
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ HEI ( Shadow hound, Tier 2, Common) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Evolution complete. │
│ Strength: 5.2 │
│ Agility: 6.8 │
│ Physical Resilience: 5.9 │
│ Intelligence: 4.5 │
│ │
│ Special: Enhanced senses. Will defend │
│ the farm. │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
Wei scratched behind Hei's ears. "Good boy," he said. Hei wagged his tail.
The pups were chasing each other around the well, their barks muffled by the morning stillness.
Wei walked toward the tree, and then he stopped.
The tree had grown.
It was taller now—not dramatically, but noticeably. The trunk was thicker, the bark smoother, with a faint golden sheen that hadn't been there before. The crown had spread wider, casting shade over most of the courtyard. The leaves were no longer just green; they shimmered with hints of gold and amber, like autumn trapped in spring.
But that wasn't what made him stop.
The branches were heavy with fruit.
Not the small, glowing orbs he had harvested before. These were larger—each the size of a fist, their skins deep crimson, almost purple, with veins of gold pulsing faintly. They hung in clusters, dozens of them. He counted quickly. Thirty. Maybe more.
His heart jumped.
The last time the tree had borne fruit, each one had increased all his stats permanently. He had eaten twelve of them, and his strength, agility, resilience, intelligence, and stamina had all risen by 1.2. Those fruits had changed him, made him stronger, faster, tougher.
But those fruits had been ripe when they appeared. These were not.
He stepped closer and reached up to touch one. The skin was firm, cool, not yet warm with ripeness. A panel appeared.
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ FRUIT OF THE TREE OF LIFE (Unripe) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Tier 2 | Legendary │
│ │
│ Time until ripe: 2 days, 0 hours │
│ │
│ Effect: ??? │
│ ??? │
│ ??? │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
Three lines of question marks. The system wasn't telling him what they would do. He would have to wait.
He looked up at the clusters hanging above him. Thirty fruits. Two days.
He placed his hand on the trunk. The bark was smooth, almost warm, and he felt the familiar pulse—slow, deep, like a heartbeat.
A panel appeared.
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ TREE OF LIFE │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Tier 2 | Legendary │
│ Growth: 18% to next tier │
│ │
│ Protected area: 4.2 km² │
│ Wall durability: 1500% of base │
│ Building durability: 500% of base │
│ Crop growth: +100% │
│ Animal survival rate: 95% │
│ │
│ Fruits ripening: 30 │
│ Time remaining: 2 days │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
Tier 2. The tree had advanced when he did. He hadn't noticed until now. Thirty fruits. Two days.
He let his hand fall and walked toward the barn, his mind still on the tree.
---
His father was already at the barn door, a cup of tea in his hands. Steam rose from the cup, curling in the cold air. His face was tired, but his eyes were clear.
"You're up early," his father said.
"Couldn't sleep."
His father nodded. "I'm going to check on them."
"The boy?"
"Yes." He took a sip of tea. "And his father. He'll be worried."
Wei followed him inside.
---
Liu Wei was sitting on a crate near the entrance, his son in his arms. The boy's eyes were open—really open, not half-closed and glassy. His cheeks had a touch of color. He was looking around, taking in the barn, the light coming through the doorway.
His father stepped inside.
"How is he?" he asked.
Liu Wei looked up. His face was still gaunt, but the desperation was gone. In its place was something fragile—hope, maybe. Relief.
"Better," he said. He shifted the boy in his arms, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders. "The fever broke in the night. Around two in the morning. He woke up and asked for water." He smiled—a small, tired smile. "He ate a little congee this morning. Not much. But enough."
He looked down at his son. "Jun, say hello."
The boy turned his head. His eyes were brown and clear, still a little glassy from sleep, but focused. "Hello," he whispered.
Wei's father smiled. "That's good. That's very good."
Liu Wei shifted the boy in his arms again. His hands were shaking. He looked at Wei's father, then at Wei, then back at the older man.
"Mr. Zhang," he said. His voice was rough. "I don't know how to thank you. The medicine, the food, the shelter. You didn't have to do any of it."
Wei's father started to speak, but Liu Wei held up his hand.
"Please," he said. "Let me finish."
He carefully set Jun down on the crate. The boy's legs wobbled, but he stood. He was small for his age—too small, too thin. His clothes hung loose on his frame. But he was standing. He was alive.
Liu Wei crouched and put his hand on his son's shoulder, steadying him.
Then he reached into his pocket.
His fingers fumbled for a moment, and he pulled out a worn leather wallet. The leather was cracked, the stitching loose, the edges frayed. He opened it with trembling hands. Inside were a few crumpled notes—old currency, from before the shimmer. A hundred yuan, maybe less. The paper was soft, creased, the ink faded.
He pulled them out and held them out to Wei's father.
"I know it's not much," he said. His voice cracked. "It's all I have left. Please. Take it."
Wei's father didn't move.
Liu Wei's hand trembled. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a watch—an old one, silver, the glass cracked across the face. The band was worn, the metal tarnished. He held it out alongside the money.
"This too," he said. "It was my father's. He gave it to me when I turned eighteen. Said it would keep me safe." He laughed—a short, bitter sound. "It didn't. But you did."
He swallowed. "You gave me and my son shelter. You fed us. You saved my boy's life. I have nothing else to give you."
The barn was silent. Jun looked up at his father, then at Wei's father, his small face confused.
Wei's father looked at the money. At the watch. At Liu Wei's face, hollow and desperate, his eyes red, his cheeks wet.
He didn't reach for them.
"Put them away," he said quietly.
Liu Wei's eyes widened. "Please—"
"Put them away." Wei's father stepped closer. He put his hand on Liu Wei's shoulder. "I don't want your money. I don't want your watch."
"Then what—"
"I want you to stay."
Liu Wei froze. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Wei's father continued. "You don't have to leave tomorrow. You don't have to leave at all." He gestured toward the house. "There's a spare bed in the house. It's not much, but it's warm. And there's work to do. Farmwork. Watching the wall. Helping with the animals."
He paused. "The boy needs time to recover. He needs food and rest. He won't get either out there."
Liu Wei's face crumbled. Tears spilled down his cheeks. He didn't make a sound—just stood there, shaking, the money and watch still in his hands.
"I can work," he said finally. His voice was barely a whisper. "I'm strong. I'll do anything. Anything you ask."
"You can work," Wei's father agreed. "And when the time comes, you can help us defend this place."
Liu Wei nodded. "Yes. Yes, I will. I swear it. On my son's life."
Wei's father nodded. "Then put your money away. You'll need it someday."
Liu Wei stared at him for a long moment. Then he slowly put the notes back in his wallet, the wallet back in his pocket. He looked at the watch in his palm.
"My father gave me this," he said quietly. He turned it over, watching the light catch the cracked glass. "He said it would keep me safe. He said as long as I had it, nothing bad would happen to me."
He looked up. "He was wrong. But you were right."
He held the watch out one more time. "Please. Take it. I want you to have it."
Wei's father hesitated. He looked at the watch, then at Liu Wei's face. Then he reached out and took it.
"I'll keep it safe," he said. "Until you need it again."
Liu Wei wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."
Jun tugged on his father's sleeve. "Father? Are we staying?"
Liu Wei crouched down and pulled his son into his arms. He held him tight, his face buried in the boy's hair. "Yes," he said. "We're staying."
---
While the Zhangs welcomed Liu Wei, the Lins were walking.
The road to the town was cracked and overgrown. Weeds pushed through the asphalt. The fields on either side were brown and dead, the crops rotted where they stood. Nothing moved except the wind, which blew in cold gusts, carrying the smell of ash and decay.
Lin Tao walked at the front, his hands in his pockets. Wang Feng walked beside him, his knife still in his belt. Old Lin lagged behind, his legs weak, but he kept up.
They had been walking since dawn. The sun was higher now, but the day remained grey.
"We should reach the city by tomorrow night," Lin Tao said.
"If the roads haven't collapsed," Wang Feng muttered. He kicked a stone out of his path. It skittered across the asphalt and fell into a ditch.
"They haven't. We came this way before."
Old Lin spoke from behind. His voice was breathy, strained. "And if the city is empty?"
"Then we find a building. Break in. Make it ours."
Wang Feng laughed. It was an ugly sound. "You think it's that easy? There will be goblins. Or worse."
"Then we kill them."
Wang Feng shook his head. "You're too confident, boy. That's how people die."
Lin Tao stopped walking. He turned to face Wang Feng. His eyes were hard. "What would you have us do? Starve?"
"I would have us be smart."
"We're alive, aren't we? That's smarter than the Zhangs."
Wang Feng's eyes narrowed. "The Zhangs are alive too."
"Behind their wall. Eating their food. While we walk."
Old Lin caught up to them. His breathing was labored, his face pale. He leaned on his cane. "The Zhangs won't last," he said. "You saw their orchard. Every tree full of fruit. Ripe fruit. And not a single piece picked."
Lin Tao smiled. "Exactly. Why would anyone let fruit rot on the trees unless it wasn't safe to eat?"
Wang Feng frowned. "Maybe they just haven't harvested yet."
"For how long? We've been watching that farm for years. Those trees have been full for weeks. Months, maybe." Lin Tao shook his head. "The fruit is poisonous. Has to be. Why else would they leave it?"
Old Lin nodded slowly. "It's the same everywhere. After the shimmer, most of the crops mutated. The vegetables that grew in the fields—they looked normal, but anyone who ate them got sick. Died, even."
Wang Feng's face darkened. "I remember. Old Man Chen, from the next village. He found a peach tree that was still green. The fruit smelled sweet, looked perfect. He took one bite." Wang Feng shook his head. "He was dead before he hit the ground."
Lin Tao spat on the ground. "The whole world is poisoned now. Everything that grows is dangerous. Only the things stored in cellars, the canned food, the dried rice—that's all that's safe."
Old Lin looked back toward the Zhang farm, already out of sight. "They must have a cellar full of food. Canned vegetables, dried meat, rice. That's how they're surviving."
"They won't last forever," Lin Tao said. "And when their food runs out, they'll have nothing. All those trees full of poison. Serves them right."
Wang Feng laughed again. "All that land. All those years looking down on us. And now they can't even eat from their own orchard."
Lin Tao started walking again. "Forget the Zhangs. They're not our problem anymore. The city is our future."
Old Lin said nothing. He just walked, his cane tapping on the cracked asphalt.
---
After the Lins left, five people remained behind in the ruins of the town.
They had been part of the group that sought shelter with the Zhangs, but they had refused to go along with Lin Tao's plan. They had wanted to wait for Liu Wei and his son.
Chen Wei was thirty-three years old, tall and broad-shouldered, with calloused hands and a quiet voice. Before the shimmer, he had been a construction worker. His wife, Mei, was with him—a small woman with tired eyes and a gentle smile. They had been married for eight years. She had found out she was pregnant two weeks before the shimmer.
Zhang Jun was twenty-seven, lean and quick, with sharp eyes and a nervous energy. Before the shimmer, he had been a courier. His girlfriend, Lin Na, was twenty-nine, a nurse at the town clinic. Her hands were steady, her voice calm, but her eyes held the exhaustion of someone who had seen too many people die.
Liu Feng was twenty-nine, the quietest of the group. He was a farmer. He didn't talk much, but he watched everything.
They had been given a few pieces of bread—the Lins' idea of generosity. Lin Tao had thrown the bread at their feet like scraps for dogs.
"You want to wait for your friend?" he had said. "Fine. Wait. But don't expect us to feed you."
Zhang Jun had stepped forward. "You can't just leave us here."
"Watch me."
Lin Na had put a hand on Zhang Jun's arm. "Don't."
Lin Tao had looked at her then. His eyes had traveled over her body, slow and deliberate.
"You know," he had said, "if you want more food, I could make an exception. Just for you. Stay with us tonight, and I'll make sure you have enough to eat."
Zhang Jun's face had gone red. "What did you say?"
Lin Tao had smiled. "You heard me."
Wang Feng had laughed. Old Lin had looked away.
Zhang Jun had stepped forward, his fists clenched. "Say that again, you fucking bastard."
Lin Tao had opened his mouth to speak, but Zhang Jun didn't wait. He swung. His fist connected with Lin Tao's jaw—a solid, satisfying crack. Lin Tao staggered backward, his hand flying to his face. Blood dripped from his split lip.
"You son of a bitch!" Lin Tao spat blood. "You'll pay for that."
Zhang Jun had raised his fists again. "Come on, then. Come on."
Lin Na had grabbed his arm. "Jun. Stop."
"He threatened you. He—"
"I know. But fighting won't help."
Zhang Jun had stared at Lin Tao, his chest heaving. "If you ever look at her again, I'll kill you. You hear me? I'll fucking kill you."
Lin Tao had wiped the blood from his lip. His eyes were cold. "You're making a mistake."
"No. You made a mistake when you opened your mouth."
Lin Tao had turned and walked away. Wang Feng had followed. Old Lin had hesitated for a moment, looking back at them, but then he had gone too.
Now they sat in the ruins of the town hall, waiting.
The building was half-collapsed, the roof open to the sky. Rats scurried in the corners. The wind blew through the broken windows, carrying the smell of smoke.
Zhang Jun sat on a pile of rubble, his hands clenched. "What if they don't come back?"
Lin Na sat beside him, her arms wrapped around her knees. "They will. They have to."
Mei leaned against her husband. Her voice was soft, scared. "What if the Zhangs did something to them? What if they're running low on food? What if they kept Liu Wei and his son for..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
Zhang Jun's face darkened. "You think they'd eat them?"
"I don't know." Mei's voice trembled. "People are desperate. The Lins were desperate. Everyone is desperate. The Zhangs might be no different."
Chen Wei put his arm around his wife. "We don't know anything for certain."
"We'll find out tomorrow," Liu Feng said quietly. "When Liu Wei comes out."
"And if he doesn't come out?" Zhang Jun asked.
No one answered.
Lin Na spoke after a long silence. "The Zhangs gave us food. They didn't have to. They could have turned us away at the gate."
"That could have been an act," Mei whispered. "To make us trust them."
"We'll wait," Chen Wei said. "We'll wait until morning. If Liu Wei comes out, we leave with him. We keep him and his son safe. That's all we wanted from the beginning."
Zhang Jun nodded slowly. "And if he doesn't come out?"
Chen Wei's face was grim. "Then we find out why."
---
While the Lins walked and the survivors waited, the Zhang farm stirred to life.
In the courtyard, Wei's uncle Jianguo had stripped down to a thin undershirt despite the cold. Sweat glistened on his arms, his shoulders, his back. He stood in the corner of the courtyard, a thick wooden log in his hands—a makeshift spear, longer than he was tall, its tip sharpened to a point.
He thrust. Pulled back. Thrust again.
His movements were precise, economical. No wasted motion. Each strike aimed at an invisible enemy's throat, chest, stomach. His feet moved in a tight pattern, shifting weight, maintaining balance. A straw dummy stood in front of him, wrapped in old clothes, its head a burlap sack stuffed with hay.
He drove the spear into the dummy's chest. The straw exploded outward.
Hao watched from the porch, his ribs still aching. He had a cup of tea in his hands, but he wasn't drinking it.
"You're going to hurt yourself," he called out.
His uncle didn't answer. He pulled the spear free and thrust again. The dummy's head flew off and rolled across the courtyard.
"You're sweating like a pig."
Still no answer.
"You know, most people rest after breakfast."
His uncle finally stopped. He lowered the spear and wiped his forehead with his forearm. His chest was heaving, but his breathing was controlled.
"If you're going to sit there," he said, "at least hand me the water jug."
Hao sighed. He set down his tea, picked up the water jug, and walked over. He handed it to his uncle.
"You're going to exhaust yourself," Hao said.
"I'm training." His uncle drank deeply, water spilling down his chin. "The goblins won't wait for us to be ready."
"The goblins haven't moved in days."
"They will."
His uncle set the water jug down and picked up the spear again. He tested its weight, spinning it in his hands.
"The boy," he said. "Liu Wei. What do you think of him?"
Hao shrugged. "He seems honest. Scared. But honest."
"Good." His uncle took a stance. "We need honest people."
He went back to training, the spear whistling through the air.
---
Wei's grandfather fed the pigs.
He moved slowly, his cane tapping the ground, a bucket of scraps in his other hand. Old Wang watched him approach from the shade tree, grunting softly.
"Hungry?" the old man asked.
The pig grunted again.
"I thought so."
He poured the scraps into the feeding trough. The other pigs jostled for position, but Old Wang waited. He was the largest, the strongest. He didn't need to push.
The old man reached through the bars and scratched Old Wang's forehead.
"You're a good boy," he said. "The best of them."
The pig closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.
"You know," the old man said, "I've had a lot of pigs in my life. Dozens. Hundreds, maybe. But you're special."
Old Wang grunted.
"You understand me, don't you?"
The pig opened his eyes and looked at him. There was intelligence there—real intelligence. Not human, but something close.
"I thought so."
The old man scratched behind Old Wang's ears. The pig wagged his tail—a short, stubby thing, but it wagged.
"Eat up," the old man said. "You need your strength."
He watched the pigs eat for a while, leaning on his cane. Then he turned and walked back to the house.
—
After breakfast, Liu Wei stepped out of the barn.
He had been inside for days—too weak, too scared, too focused on keeping his son alive to notice much of anything. The barn was dark, the windows small. He had crawled in and stayed there, huddled in the corner, waiting for death or rescue.
Now he stood in the sunlight and stared.
Wei watched his face as he took it all in—the way his mouth slowly fell open, the way his eyes widened, the way his hands dropped to his sides as if he had forgotten what to do with them. He took a few steps forward, then stopped, then took a few more.
"This is..." Liu Wei's voice was barely a whisper. "This is impossible."
"It's real," Wei said. He leaned against the fence, watching Liu Wei take in the farm. "Take your time."
Liu Wei turned in a slow circle, his head moving from side to side, trying to take in everything at once. The vegetable gardens. The rice paddies. The orchard. The animal pens. He rubbed his arms, though the morning wasn't cold.
"How?" he asked finally. "How is any of this still alive?"
Wei pushed off from the fence and walked toward the vegetable gardens. "Come on. I'll show you."
---
They walked to the vegetable gardens first. Liu Wei moved slowly, his eyes darting from side to side, taking in everything at once. The cabbages were huge, the size of melons. The radishes were thick as his arm. The tomatoes hung in clusters, red and gleaming.
Liu Wei stopped walking. He crouched down and touched a cabbage leaf, running his fingers along the thick veins.
"How?" he asked again. His voice was confused, almost frightened.
Wei shrugged. "The soil is good."
"That's not—" Liu Wei shook his head, still staring at the cabbage. "I've seen good soil. I've worked good soil. This isn't good soil. This is something else."
He stood up slowly, his knees popping. He looked at the rice paddies, the water clear and shimmering, the young plants standing in straight lines.
"And the rice?" he asked.
"The same."
"The same," Liu Wei repeated. He didn't sound convinced. He walked to the edge of the rice paddy and knelt down, dipping his fingers into the water. He brought them to his nose and sniffed.
"It doesn't smell like anything," he said.
"What did you expect?"
"I don't know. Something." He stood up and wiped his hands on his pants. "The water in the town smells like rot. Everything smells like rot."
Wei nodded. "Not here."
Liu Wei looked at him. "Why?"
Wei didn't answer. He just walked toward the animal pens.
---
The cow shed was enormous, its walls thick and dark, covered in moss. The fence around it was taller than Liu Wei's head—he had to crane his neck to see the top. The wooden posts were thicker than his chest, sunk deep into the ground. Vines had grown over them, weaving a second wall of green.
Inside, shapes moved. Large, powerful shapes that seemed to fill the space.
Liu Wei stopped at the entrance. He didn't go in. He stood at the gate, his hands gripping the wooden bars.
"What are those?" he whispered.
Wei stepped inside and waited. After a long hesitation, Liu Wei followed.
The first thing he saw was the bull.
He stood in the center of the shed, his massive frame blocking the light from the window. His coat was dark, almost black, with streaks of deep orange that seemed to smolder when he moved. His horns were thick and curved, sharp at the tips. His eyes were amber, watchful, intelligent. He lowered his head slightly as they approached, not in threat, but in acknowledgment. Smoke seemed to curl from his nostrils in the cold air.
A panel appeared in Wei's vision.
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ SMOLDERHORN BULL (Tier 2, Uncommon) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Strength: 10.2 │
│ Agility: 4.1 │
│ Physical Resilience: 12.5 │
│ Intelligence: 4.3 │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
Liu Wei couldn't see the panel. He only saw the animal. His breath caught in his throat. He took a step back, bumping into the fence behind him.
"That's a bull?" he asked, his voice high and tight.
"That's the bull."
"He's..." Liu Wei swallowed. His throat moved visibly. "He's as big as a horse."
"Bigger."
The bull took a step toward them. Its hooves made a heavy thud on the packed earth. Liu Wei grabbed the fence behind him, his knuckles white. The bull stopped. It blinked slowly, then turned its head and walked away, its tail swishing.
Liu Wei let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "He just... walked away."
"He's not interested in you."
"Good."
The cows stood behind the bull, their bodies equally large but less aggressive in posture. Their coats were a mix of brown and grey, with patches of pale gold near their ears. Their eyes were calm, almost gentle, but their horns were sharp.
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ GREYHIDE COW (Tier 2, Common) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Strength: 8.4 │
│ Agility: 3.8 │
│ Physical Resilience: 10.1 │
│ Intelligence: 4.0 │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
Liu Wei stared at them for a long moment. His hands were still gripping the fence.
"I'm not going near them," he said finally.
Wei nodded. "You don't have to."
"I'll do the farmwork. I'll work in the fields. I'll help with the wall." He paused, his eyes still on the cows. "But I don't want to go near these animals."
"That's fine."
Liu Wei finally let go of the fence. He flexed his fingers, which had cramped from gripping so hard.
---
They walked to the sheep yard.
The fence was even taller here—well above Liu Wei's head. The posts were thicker than his thighs. Vines had grown through every gap, creating a living wall that blocked most of the view inside. Liu Wei had to stand on his toes to see over the top.
Inside, the sheep moved slowly, their bodies larger than any sheep Liu Wei had ever seen. Their wool was thick and dark, the color of thunderclouds, with streaks of silver running through it. A few larger ones stood apart from the herd—pure white, their wool shimmering faintly, their eyes pale blue.
Liu Wei stopped at the fence. "They're huge."
The largest ram turned its head. Its horns were thick and curled, its eyes yellow. It let out a low bleat and began to walk toward them.
Liu Wei stepped back. "Is it supposed to do that?"
"It's curious," Wei said. He leaned against the fence, arms crossed, watching.
The ram walked faster. Its hooves thudded against the ground. Liu Wei took another step back, but the fence was between them. The ram stopped at the fence, lowered its head, and stared at Liu Wei through the bars.
Then it charged.
Liu Wei stumbled backward, his arms coming up to protect his face. He hit the ground hard, landing on his back. The ram hit the fence—and stopped. Its horns were inches from where Liu Wei's chest had been. It lifted its head, looked down at him, and made a sound that was almost like a laugh. A snort. A sneer. Then it turned and walked away, its tail flicking.
Liu Wei lay on the ground, breathing hard. His heart was pounding so loud he could hear it in his ears.
Wei walked over and offered him a hand. "You okay?"
Liu Wei stared at the ram, which was now standing at the far end of the yard, chewing on a patch of grass. "Did that thing just... laugh at me?"
"I think it was playing with you."
"Playing?"
"He does that sometimes. Scares people, then walks away. He thinks it's funny."
Liu Wei took Wei's hand and pulled himself up. He brushed dirt off his back. "That's not funny."
"It's a little funny."
"It's not." He pointed at the ram. "That thing almost killed me."
"It was three feet away from you."
"Three feet is close!"
The ram looked up at the sound of his voice, then went back to chewing.
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ THUNDERHORN RAM (Tier 2, Uncommon) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Strength: 7.8 │
│ Agility: 4.5 │
│ Physical Resilience: 9.2 │
│ Intelligence: 4.1 │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
The white sheep stood apart from the others. Their wool was thick, soft, almost glowing. Their eyes were pale blue, calm, watchful.
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ CLOUDWOOL SHEEP (Tier 2, Common) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Strength: 6.5 │
│ Agility: 4.8 │
│ Physical Resilience: 8.1 │
│ Intelligence: 4.5 │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
Liu Wei shook his head. "I'm not going near them."
"That's fine."
"I'll stick to the fields."
"Deal."
---
They walked to the pig pen.
The fence was massive—taller than Liu Wei's head, the posts thicker than his thighs. Moss covered the wood, soft and green, and the gate was held shut by a thick iron latch that looked like it weighed more than Liu Wei could lift. Inside, the ground was soft with moss and grass. A large shade tree stood in the corner, its branches spreading over the entire pen.
All seven pigs had changed. They were all mountain boars now—their shoulders broad, their fur coarse and brown, their tusks long and sharp. Old Wang was the largest, standing apart from the others, his eyes warm and intelligent. The other six were smaller but still massive, their hides taking on a dark, metallic sheen that caught the morning light.
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ MOUNTAIN BOAR (Tier 2, Uncommon) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Strength: 8.5 │
│ Agility: 4.2 │
│ Physical Resilience: 9.1 │
│ Intelligence: 3.8 │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ IRONHIDE BOAR (Tier 2, Common) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Strength: 7.8 │
│ Agility: 4.0 │
│ Physical Resilience: 8.4 │
│ Intelligence: 3.2 │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
Liu Wei stared at them. His face was pale, his mouth slightly open. He took a slow step back.
"They're all... wild boars."
"They're mountain boars now."
"Can they be ridden?"
"Old Wang can. The others are still learning."
One of the smaller boars walked to the fence and pressed its snout against the bars. It grunted, then turned and walked back to the shade tree, where it flopped down in the moss.
Liu Wei backed away from the pen. "I'm not going near them."
"You don't have to."
---
They walked to the chicken coop.
The coop was larger now, its walls thick and dark, the roof high. The fence around it was tall, but not as tall as the others. Inside, the chickens moved in the shadows, their shapes just visible through the gaps in the wood.
Liu Wei relaxed slightly. "At least these are normal."
Wei opened the gate. "They're not normal."
The chickens emerged from the shadows. They had grown larger, their bodies more muscular, their feathers darker. Most were the color of charcoal, their feathers tipped with silver, their eyes sharp and gold. A few were the color of dying coals—deep red with orange edges, their feathers glowing faintly in the dim light.
Liu Wei stopped walking. "Those are not normal chickens."
"They're still chickens."
"They're the size of turkeys."
"They're bigger than turkeys."
Liu Wei stared at them. One of the red-feathered hens walked toward him, her head tilted, her golden eyes watching. Her feathers shimmered as she moved, like embers in a dying fire. She stopped at his feet and looked up at him.
Liu Wei looked down at the hen. She clucked softly and pecked at his shoe. Then she turned and walked away, her tail feathers bobbing.
"That one seemed friendly," Wei said.
"I don't care."
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ SOOTFEATHER HEN (Tier 2, Common) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Egg production: +120% │
│ Egg effect: Minor stamina boost │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ EMBERGLOW HEN (Tier 2, Uncommon) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Egg production: +150% │
│ Egg effect: Minor health regeneration │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
"I'll collect the eggs," Liu Wei said. "I can handle that much."
"You don't have to touch the chickens."
"Good."
---
They walked to the duck pond.
The pond was larger now, its banks reinforced with stone, the water clear and deep. The fence around it was low, more for keeping predators out than keeping the ducks in. A small wooden dock extended into the water, and a few ducks were sitting on it, preening their feathers.
The ducks had grown larger too, their bodies sleek and powerful, their feathers a mix of dark grey and deep green that shimmered like oil on water. Their eyes were bright, intelligent, watching Liu Wei as he approached.
Liu Wei stopped at the fence. "Those are big ducks."
"They're bigger ducks."
"Can they fly?"
"Not anymore. Too heavy."
One of the ducks waddled toward them. It stopped at the fence and tilted its head, studying Liu Wei with one eye, then the other.
"What's it doing?" Liu Wei asked.
"Judging you."
"It looks like it's judging me."
"It probably is."
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ MISTWATER DUCK (Tier 2, Common) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Egg production: +100% │
│ Egg effect: Minor agility boost │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
The duck turned and waddled back to the pond. It stepped into the water and paddled away, leaving a smooth wake behind it.
"I'll collect the eggs," Liu Wei said. "The ducks? I can do ducks. They're just... bigger ducks."
"You don't have to touch them either."
"Good."
---
They walked to the rabbit enclosure.
The fence was low, but the posts were thick. Inside, the ground was soft with straw. The rabbits moved in the shadows, their shapes quick and nervous.
They had grown larger too, their bodies lean and muscular, their ears long and sharp. Small horns had begun to grow from their foreheads—small, barely visible, but unmistakably horns. Their eyes were red, not from aggression, but from the blessing. They watched Liu Wei with an intelligence that made him uncomfortable.
Liu Wei stared at them. "Those rabbits have horns."
"Yes."
"Why do the rabbits have horns?"
"I don't know."
A large grey rabbit hopped toward the fence. It stopped and sat up on its hind legs, its nose twitching. Its red eyes blinked slowly. The small horns on its forehead caught the light.
"It's staring at me."
"It's curious."
"It looks angry."
"It's not angry."
"How do you know?"
"Because it hasn't attacked you."
Liu Wei took a step back. "Can they attack?"
"They have horns."
Liu Wei stared at the rabbit. The rabbit stared back. Neither moved.
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ HORNED HARE (Tier 2, Common) │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ Breeding rate: +150% │
│ Meat effect: Minor agility boost │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
"I'm not going near them," Liu Wei said.
"You don't have to."
"I'll stick to the fields."
"You said that already."
"Because I mean it." Liu Wei turned away from the rabbit enclosure. "I'll work in the vegetable gardens. I'll help with the rice. I'll carry things. I'll dig. I'll lift. Just... not with the animals."
Wei nodded. "That's fine."
Liu Wei let out a long breath. "Your family saved my son's life. I owe you everything. I'll work. I'll fight. I'll do whatever you need."
"I know."
"But I'm scared."
"That's okay."
---
Liu Wei was quiet for a long moment. He looked back at the pig pen, then at the cow shed, then at the orchard full of fruit.
"Why are you helping us?" he asked.
"Because you didn't do anything to us. You're just a man trying to keep his son alive."
Liu Wei's eyes were wet. He wiped them with the back of his hand. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
---
The morning passed quickly.
Wei harvested the orchard—mostly common fruit now, the special fruits exhausted. His credits climbed slowly.
```
Credits: 569 → 574 → 579 → 584 → 589 → 594 → 599 → 604
Experience: 391 → 393 → 395 → 397 → 399 → 401 → 403 → 405
```
He sat under the tree and opened the store.
```
┌─────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ SYSTEM STORE │
├─────────────────────────────────────────┤
│ SEEDS: │
│ Blessed Wheat (Common) - 5 credits │
│ Blessed Potato (Common) - 3 credits │
│ Blessed Herb Mix (Common) - 8 credits │
│ │
│ TOOLS: │
│ Iron Hoe (Common) - 10 credits │
│ Reinforced Bucket (Common) - 5 │
│ Forge Upgrade (Uncommon) - 80 credits│
│ │
│ BUILDINGS: │
│ Watchtower - 100 credits │
│ Reinforced Gate - 40 credits │
│ Main House Upgrade - 80 credits │
│ Forge Construction - 50 credits │
│ Warehouse Upgrade - 100 credits │
│ Fish Pond Upgrade - 100 credits │
│ │
│ MAJOR UPGRADES: │
│ Orchard Upgrade - 200 credits │
│ Wall Upgrade - 300 credits │
│ Farm Tier Upgrade - 1500 credits │
└─────────────────────────────────────────┘
```
He stared at the last line. Farm Tier Upgrade. Twenty-five hundred credits. It would transform everything—the land, the buildings, the tree itself. But it was far out of reach.
He closed the store. He would save. The wall could wait.
***
That evening, they ate together.
The kitchen was crowded. Wei's mother had made noodles with vegetables, a dish of pickled radishes, and a pot of tea. The table was full.
Jun sat between his father and Li. He was still weak, but his eyes were bright. He ate slowly, carefully, the way a child eats when he's been hungry for a long time.
"This is good," he said.
Wei's mother smiled. "Eat as much as you want."
Jun looked at his father. Liu Wei nodded. The boy ate faster.
Wei watched them. The father, thin and hollow-cheeked, watching his son with desperate love. The son, pale but alive, eating like he had forgotten what food tasted like.
His mother caught his eye. She smiled. He smiled back.
After dinner, Liu Wei stood up. He looked at the family around the table.
"I don't have words," he said. His voice was rough. "You saved my son's life. You gave us shelter. You gave us food. I don't know how to thank you."
"Work hard," Wei's father said. "That's thanks enough."
Liu Wei nodded. "I will. Every day."
Jun tugged on his father's sleeve. "Father, can we stay?"
Liu Wei looked at Wei's father.
"You can stay," Wei's father said. "As long as you want."
Jun smiled. It was the first time Wei had seen him smile.
***
That night, Wei sat under the tree and watched the stars.
The dogs lay around him, sleeping. Hei had curled up at his feet, his leg no longer bothering him. The pups were tangled together by the well.
His mother came out and sat beside him.
"You did the right thing," she said.
"We didn't do anything. Father did."
"He listened to you."
Wei was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Liu Wei is a good man."
"I know."
"He'll help us."
"I know."
She put her hand on his. "We'll need him."
Wei looked at the hills. The goblins' torches were still there, flickering in the darkness. They hadn't moved closer. But they hadn't left either.
"I know," he said.
---
The tree's leaves rustled. The gold light pulsed.
Wei closed his eyes and listened to the night.
The dogs were quiet. The animals were calm. The family was together.
And now, there was someone new. A man who had nothing, who had been given everything. A man who would fight for them when the time came.
The world outside was still burning.
But here, inside the wall, there was peace.
For now.
---
End of Chapter Seven