The sound of hooves broke the quiet rhythm of the field.
It was distant at first.
Soft.
But steady.
The villagers working in the field gradually slowed, some lifting their heads to look toward the path leading from the village.
"…Someone's coming," one of them muttered.
The young man paused as well, though his expression remained calm. To him, interruptions were part of cultivation. External disturbances tested one's focus.
"…A trial," he thought.
The sound grew louder.
Then, a figure appeared.
A man in official attire rode into view, his posture straight, his gaze sharp. Dust trailed behind the horse as it came to a controlled stop near the edge of the field.
The villagers instinctively stepped back.
"…It's the overseer," someone whispered.
A quiet tension spread immediately.
Unlike them, the young man did not move.
He simply observed.
The overseer dismounted slowly, his eyes sweeping across the field.
He took in everything—the people, the soil, the atmosphere.
And then, his gaze landed on the young man.
"…You," he said.
The tone was not loud.
But it carried authority.
The young man stepped forward slightly.
"Yes?"
The overseer studied him for a moment.
"You are the one responsible for this?"
The question was vague.
But the meaning was clear.
The young man nodded calmly.
"Yes. I am cultivating."
A few villagers lowered their heads, trying not to react.
The overseer's expression didn't change.
"…Cultivating?"
He glanced down at the soil, then back at the young man.
"This is farming."
The young man shook his head slightly.
"No. It is the cultivation of earth."
Silence followed.
The overseer did not respond immediately.
Instead, he stepped forward, crouching down to examine the soil himself. He pressed it lightly, rubbed it between his fingers, then looked at the surrounding crops.
His movements were careful.
Measured.
As someone used to evaluating results.
"…This quality…" he murmured.
It was better.
Not by chance.
Not by luck.
But consistently better.
He stood up slowly.
"Explain it."
The young man met his gaze without hesitation.
"There is nothing to explain. When one aligns with the earth, the earth responds."
The overseer frowned slightly.
"That is not an explanation."
"It is the truth," the young man replied.
The villagers held their breath.
Speaking like that to an official was not wise.
But the young man showed no fear.
The overseer looked at him for a long moment.
Then—
he turned to one of the villagers.
"You. Try it."
The man hesitated, then obeyed.
He picked up a tool and began working the soil.
Within minutes—
his movements changed.
Smoother.
More natural.
The overseer's eyes sharpened.
He watched closely.
"…Again," he said.
The villager continued.
And once again—
the same result.
The overseer straightened slowly.
His expression was no longer skeptical.
"…Interesting," he said quietly.
Very interesting.