The wind.
The wind in Fallen Leaf Province carried neither the fertile richness of the river deltas nor the salty tang of the vast sea. It was dry and barren, bearing the scent of mountain rock baked beneath the sun and the dust of iron ore lingering in the air. It blew past dilapidated thatched roofs and exhausted fields, carrying the sighs of a people long accustomed to poverty and oblivion.
This was Tran Kien's homeland. And now, it was the fiefdom of the Marquis of Lac Viet.
When the mighty black fleet of Flood Dragon Island and the Blood Fiend Guards—radiating a heaven-shaking killing intent—appeared at the forest's edge, all of Fallen Leaf Town plunged into sheer panic. These commoners, who had known nothing their entire lives but the swing of pickaxes and hammers, assumed a bandit gang had arrived to slaughter them and plunder what little meager wealth they had left.
But then, they saw him. They saw a youth clad in indigo robes, an ancient saber strapped to his back, slowly stepping out from the martial formation. That face was both familiar and entirely foreign. The features were the same, but the frail immaturity of the orphaned boy from yesteryear had completely vanished, replaced by the profound tranquility and absolute majesty of a sovereign king.
"Is... is that Tran Kien?" a trembling old man recognized him. "It's the orphaned boy from the Tran family!"
The entirety of Fallen Leaf Town was stunned. They simply could not believe that the boy who had disappeared for years had now returned, bearing such an earth-shattering identity.
Tran Kien paid no heed to those astonished gazes. He signaled for Thiet Phu and Ly Tin to make camp on the outskirts, absolutely forbidding any disturbance to the populace. Then, alone, he slowly walked down the familiar dirt path.
Everything seemed the same, yet completely different. There were still the crooked thatched huts, still the scrawny, sun-darkened children playing by the roadside. But the atmosphere was even more desolate than before. The ore mines were nearly depleted. The able-bodied men had either perished in collapsed shafts or fled elsewhere to seek a livelihood. This place resembled a dying land.
He passed by the ruined temple at the edge of town. It had collapsed entirely. He looked behind the temple, toward a small, unmarked earthen mound. That was where he had buried the old beggar all those years ago—the man who had bestowed upon him his very first karmic serendipity.
He stood there in silence for a long while. "Senior," he murmured. "I have returned."
He walked to the place that had once been his home. It too had collapsed, leaving only an empty plot of dirt overgrown with weeds. Memories of his parents and the grueling days of smashing ore rushed back. This place was his root. A root filled with agony, yet it was the very crucible that had forged his iron-clad will.
"Exalted Lord," Uncle Sword materialized beside him at some unknown point. "This place... is too impoverished. The Emperor's true intent in granting you this land is glaringly obvious."
"I know," Tran Kien nodded. "But to me, this is the most precious gift of all."
He turned around, looking toward the frightened, curious townsfolk watching him from afar. He saw the despair, the numb resignation in their eyes. "If a sapling wishes to grow into a towering ancient tree, it must be planted in the soil of its homeland," he said. In his eyes, there was no sorrow; there was an unprecedented resolve. "I am not going anywhere. I will remain here. I shall transform this barren earth into the most prosperous land in all of Dai Viet!"
The next day, in the largest square of Fallen Leaf Town, a high dais was erected. Tran Kien, donning the majestic official robes of a Marquis for the very first time, stood upon it. Below him stood the entire populace of the town and neighboring areas, along with the entirety of his Lac Viet Guards.
He did not speak empty, hollow words. He stated only three things.
"First," he raised his voice, amplified by his Primordial Chaos Qi, echoing far and wide. "Starting today, all tyrannical taxes and heavy corvée labor in Fallen Leaf Province are abolished for three years!"
The entire square erupted in an uproar. They could scarcely believe their ears.
"Second," he continued. "All those without land or livelihoods shall be provided with fields and farming tools by the Marquis's Estate. The soldiers of the Lac Viet Guards shall not merely be soldiers. They will join you in reclaiming wastelands, digging irrigation canals, and rebuilding your homes!"
"And third," he looked at the commoners, his gaze utterly sincere. "I do not promise to bring you gold, silver, or jewels. I only promise one thing: upon this land, no one shall starve to death, and no one shall be oppressed again. Those who harbor merit shall be rewarded. Those who commit crimes, even if they are members of the Marquis's Estate, shall be punished!"
Simple words, yet they struck straight into the hearts of a people all too familiar with hunger and oppression. They stood stunned, and then, slowly, a few began to drop to their knees, tears streaming down their faces.
But Tran Kien knew that words alone were insufficient. He needed a "miracle." A miracle to plant an unshakeable faith within their hearts.
He gave a signal. Thiet Phu and Ly Tin brought forward a brocade box. Tran Kien opened it. Inside rested the "Seed of Legacy." Alone, he walked to the most barren, parched plot of land in the center of the square. He did not kneel. He merely quietly dug a small hole and placed the seed inside.
Then, he closed his eyes. He did not merely circulate his Primordial Chaos Qi. He was connecting. Connecting with the heart of the dragon. Connecting with the Dragon Veins of all Dai Viet flowing beneath his feet. He was executing the most profound layer of meaning within the Lac Viet Heavenly Cycle Array. It was not "Guardian." It was "Creation."
"Hundred Viet Coral!"
An aquamarine radiance, overflowing with intense, boundless vitality, emanated from him. Channeling through the seed, it sank deep into the earth.
RUMBLE...
The entirety of Fallen Leaf Province quaked gently. And then, a divine spectacle unfolded before the eyes of tens of thousands. From the spot where the seed was planted, a visible wave of emerald-green life-force rippled outward. Wherever the ripple passed, the parched, cracked earth instantly became rich and fertile. Withered, dying grass sprang back to life, lush and verdant. Dried-up streams began to burble and flow once more. The spiritual qi in the air grew ten times denser! An entire land of death, in the span of a few breaths, had been reborn!
As the light faded, Tran Kien stood there. His complexion was slightly pale, but his eyes blazed like fire. He needed not utter a single word more.
"BOOM!!!"
The entire populace of Fallen Leaf, from the elderly to the young, prostrated themselves on the ground, kowtowing endlessly, their mouths ceaselessly chanting: "Marquis! Lord Marquis!" In their eyes, there was no longer any fear. There was a fanatical reverence, a blind faith akin to believers witnessing a living god.
A seed had been sown. Tran Kien knew the road to growing it into a towering ancient tree that could shelter all of Dai Viet was still incredibly long. But ten thousand affairs are hardest at the beginning. And the first, most arduous step, had now been firmly laid down.