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I was transfixed for a moment, as David challenged Goliath.

Until the fox managed to hit him with it’s paw, and knocked him down and away. His footing was fouled. His fate was sealed. The Fox pounced, It’s razor sharp teeth going for the kill, to end my little warrior.

Oh? You dare trespass into this Daddy’s domain?!

….I can’t believe I just thought that. I snort to myself.

The fox’s teeth clamped down on iron instead of flesh, and it looked up, shocked at the intervention.

It was then the fox realised it fucked up.

My shovel whirled, and with a klang! The fox died.

I looked to my little warrior. He had managed to get to his feet, and was glaring as hatefully as he could at the fox’s corpse. I gave him a once over, and he was fine, as were my girls. Just a fright.

I didn’t blame the fox, it was his nature. I hoped he didn’t blame me for braining him with a shovel in retaliation.

And then selling his fur, because I’m totally going to do that. And I think you can eat fox.

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You can, in fact eat fox. wouldn\'t recommend it. Tastes like ass.

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Growing rice properly involves a bit more than just chucking your seed into the ground and hoping for the best. I had witnessed the cultivation method of the farmers from the village, and they were a bit… lacking.

For example, the first thing you do is soak it in a 1/16 ratio of salted water. The rice seed with the greatest amount of endosperm, and therefore the best chance of a yield will sink to the bottom of your barrel, while the rest will float to the top.

Then, after soaking, you plant the desirable seeds in wide buckets for the first part of their life as they sprout.

Then, finally, you transplant them to your paddies. I always found it rather strange that rice does better when you rip it out of the soil and stuff it somewhere else than leaving it be.

The funny thing is that I learned most of this from reading a manga. Thanks, Shizuko. Cheating using techniques from the 1860s when I was in a mid-to pre-thousands world, like all true Isekai heroes!

Except guns would be pretty much useless, and I had no desire to conquer the world. Eh, rice is more important than that stuff anyways.

But enough about that. I was currently on the “sprouting” stage. The paddies themselves were under way, carved into the side of one of the hills in the terraced style, and fed by one of the small rivers, for when it finally came time to flood them.

Cultivator strength and endurance always did turn tasks that should have taken months or years into matters of mere days.

Though sometimes I had a sneaking suspicion that my “zen” modes lasted for longer than I thought they did. I was always super hungry when they stopped, and occasionally Big D was giving me the gimlet eye when I got back home.

Cultivation be whack, yo.

I grunted, as I finished examining the terrace wall for any potential defects. It looked pretty good, but just in case, I pushed some more of my qi into it, lending my spirit to help reinforce the wall, and strengthen the grass’ roots to keep everything steady.

The masters at the sects would probably have an aneurysm about how much qi I was “wasting”, but I didn’t see it as a waste. It was a resource. If you got it, use it. Besides, it didn’t take that long for it to come back. At the start of the next day I was normally feeling fresh as a daisy. Maybe if I was a better cultivator, or had bigger reserves, it might take longer, but I didn’t know, and didn’t care.

Yawning, I wandered back to my little house, Big D greeting me with his signature screech.

“You tell em, Big D.” I scratched his head affectionately. His defeat hadn’t made him nervous, so that was good. He was still a little ball of piss and vinegar.

My Lowly Spiritual Herbs were growing in their buckets beside my sprouting rice. The spirit herbs needed qi to grow properly, and I figured, why not just juice the rice too? Can’t be any harm.

I had also repotted the strange root I had found. I couldn’t just run off to the archive, so this was the only way I had to store it, and It had some qi to it. So It got a dousing too.

I carefully infused my spirit into the water, and then picked up my watering can and got to work, with Big D sitting on my shoulder, occasionally hopping off to snap up a bug that dared try to assault my little grow operation.

Good Boy. More spirit greens for you after dinner.

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And so things went. I had to brain a few more foxes and a starving looking wolf, but otherwise, things were largely peaceful.

Chop wood.

Break rock.

Plant crop.

Nurture with qi.

Eat food.

Sleep.

Months pass.

I love it here.

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The Great Master had given him the name Bi De. He knew not what it meant, but he knew the name was his. He knew it was powerful.

But he was not.

Awareness was a fickle thing. It came and it went. But he knew during those times. He thought. And he was elevated above those who were beneath him. During the night, his senses were sharper, to better alert the Great Master to interlopers, those of red fur and sharp teeth.

But every time he failed in something he knew was his duty, to defend the females, he knew great shame. His Great Master nurtured him without reservation anyways, treating him like a favoured son, and not the shameful thing he was.

He was weak. He had to grow in strength, and fulfill his destiny!

He rode upon the Great Master’s shoulder while he infused their food with his very essence, and struck from above upon the base creatures that dared to sup off his powerful essence.

He stood the night watch while the Great Master slept. He guarded the home while the Great Master completed his great wonders, commanding the land and taming the forest.

He watched, as the Great Master moved in the morning, his body flowing with wondrous skill.

And so he sought to improve himself. He ran through the Great Master’s Lands. He jumped over the hills, and onto the giant branches of trees. He shoved his body against the Great Pots of Growth, until he could finally move them.

And now, he stood upon the Great Pillars of The Fa Ram (another name with a surely sublime meaning), and gave it his all to imitate the Great Master, to have some pale imitation of his sublime skill.

His body soared through the air. His legs lashed out with strength unknown to his lesser kin. He danced as the Great Master danced. He did breath, as the Great Master drew breath.

Something swirled around him.

Within him.

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I smiled at Big D as he hopped and kicked along my fence.

Cute little guy.