The bustling silhouettes on the street come and go, radiating vitality.
In the Magic Plant Garden outside Winter Manor, Luo Fei, wrapped in a thick fur coat, swings his whip, directing the farmersâ busy work.
"Move faster at the front!"
Otto shouts at the top of his lungs, his voice overpowering the wind,
"Spread the manure evenly!"
The farmers, sweating profusely, scatter baskets of well-mixed Two-legged Flying Dragon manure into the furrows.
Strong Yak People pull the heavy plow behind them, evenly distributing the fertilizer.
These manures are completely decomposed but still emit a pungent stench, mixed with the aura of Thunder and Frost.
However, itâs precisely this pungent odor that signifies the manureâs richness in magic power, helping the Snow Wheat grow better.
"The lord said, this Snow Wheat is our lifeline!"
Luo Fei yells again, "Pay attention, plant them well, or I wonât show mercy!"
"Yes, Overseer." The farmers respond softly, deftly transplanting Snow Wheat seedlings into the fertile soil.
"I never thought wheat could grow in the snow..."
An old farmer shakes his head and mutters under his breath, "Looks like weâre getting old..."
"Luckily, we worked honestly back then, or we wouldâve delayed the lordâs important matters." Another farmer agrees, "Itâs all Glargâs fault for saying wheat wonât grow in winter, which made us doubt, bah!"
"Donât mention Glarg, he was beaten by the overseer so badly that he couldnât get up."
"Serves him right!"
"He deserved it for not doing his work and running his mouth!"
...
These fellows, always quick to point out othersâ flaws.
Luo Fei listens to the farmersâ quiet discussions and canât help but coldly smile.
The so-called Glarg is the tall farmer who Luo Fei had whipped mercilessly, expelled from the winter plowing team afterward.
At that time, some secretly complained about Luo Feiâs cruelty, saying a manure worker shouldnât be overseeing.
Now, seeing actual wheat, these people have changed their tune, blaming Glarg.
Of course, Luo Fei doesnât bother to argue with them.
"Stop all your talking." Luo Fei, holding his coiled whip, coldly urges twice,
"Focus properly, work hard, ruining even one wheat seedling is beyond what we can afford!"
The farmers dare not say anything, quickly bowing their heads to busy themselves.
Following Frost Blue Wheatâs cultivation method, this crop requires extreme cold to produce plump wheat ears.
So after transplanting, Otto directs the farmers to bring snow from the nearby desert, finely covering it around the seedlings to reduce the warming weatherâs impact on the wheat fields.
The cold of the Northern Wasteland gradually reaches its end.
Though it remains the freezing season, daytime is no longer as frigid as the deep winter that seemed to freeze people to death.
Otto, along with others from the agriculture department, works busily in newly divided farmlands outside the town.
Workers swing axes, cutting down trees, prying open stubborn stones in the frozen soil, preparing for new farmland development.
Neither stones nor wood are wasted.
Rocks are carted away to become part of the city walls.
Tree trunks become materials for fences and barricades, poorly shaped branches sent to the townâs hearth.
In the distance, Night Fury and Thunder play in the snow, occasionally kicking up snow mist.
They arenât just playing; as Luo Deâs emissaries, they supervise the farmersâ work.
Ever since they teamed up, Luo De occasionally lets them frolic in the wilderness.
Initially, Luo De would follow along, but after a couple of days, he lets them free.
At this time, Luo De is in the Blacksmith Shop.
Inside the Blacksmith Shop.
Luo De lifts the finished Heavy Sword with one hand and walks to the sharpening stone,
grabbing the grindstone, applying oil to the bladeâs edge.
"ScreechâScreechâ" The grindstone slides along the blade, the rhythm steady, each stroke precise and strong.
Sparks splatter along the blade, like fireworks in the night, dazzling.
Everyone in the Blacksmith Shop turns their eyes over.
This is the first sword forged from Magic Steel, and it was crafted by the lord himself.
Everyone wants to witness its birth.
As the grindstone glides repeatedly over the blade, it becomes shiny, reflecting the flame with a red glow.
Vivian, standing beside, canât help but comment, "Lord Baron, once sharpened, this sword could probably cut down a Yak, right?"
"Donât just say nonsense, whatâs there to chop Yak for; they work so diligently." Luo De glances at Vivian.
After a period of restraint, this sister is slowly back to her usual self.
"I just meant the sword is sharp." Vivian looks at the busy Yak people nearby, "Anyway, they donât understand."
"Not necessarily, theyâve been attending Empire Language classes for two weeks now." Luo De chuckles, turning to look at Bain, whoâs swinging a huge hammer,
"Bain, did you understand what Vivian just said?"
Bain pauses, looks at Luo De, and shakes his head dully.
Luo De smirks, turning to Vivian, "See, he got it."
"No, I didnât." Bain replies promptly.
Whoosh!
Vivian looks at Bainâs dull expression and canât help but burst into laughter.
The other blacksmiths understand and start laughing too.
Only the Yak people look at each other in confusion, not understanding whatâs happening, yet they laugh along too.
Luo De laughs and sighs, the grindstone slides over the blade once more and again.
Feeling itâs about right, Luo De tests the bladeâs edge with his fingertip.
The sharpness cuts the skin, a trickle of blood oozing out, leaving a dark red mark on the blade.
While the small wound on Luo Deâs hand heals instantly.