There was peace in dirt.
Not the kind that came from meditation or divine enlightenment.
Just… the quiet, mind-numbing stillness that came from squatting under a half-broken sunhat and trying to convince a weed to die.
Ash exhaled slowly through his nose, brushwood hoe resting against his shoulder. The soil gave a wet plop as he poked at it, but the weed—some stubby little thing with three arrogant leaves—stayed rooted like it paid taxes here.
"Stubborn little beast," Ash muttered.
No one answered. Of course. That was why he liked it here.
No young masters causing trouble, no sects chasing after heaven-breaking legacies, no spiritual beasts trying to steal your shoes.
Just bugs, dirt, and the faint smell of roasted yams from the neighbor's chimney.
Perfect.
---
A Shack with Dreams
Ash's home wasn't impressive.
It had one room, one window (half-covered in vines), a slanted roof that dripped in two different places, and a bed made of straw stuffed into an old fish basket.
But it was his.
And more importantly, it was far enough from civilization that no one bothered him.
No one asked for his sect background. No one tried to duel him for breathing in the wrong direction. No one questioned why he spent three straight hours yesterday watching moss grow.
Ash didn't mind being a nobody.
He preferred it.
---
When the Wind Changed
That morning, something felt… off.
Not dangerous, just different.
The sun was too warm. The birds too quiet. And the weed?
The weed had grown an extra leaf.
"…You weren't like that yesterday," Ash muttered.
And that's when it happened.
A strange silence settled in his mind.
And then, something bloomed.
> [System Online…]
[Initializing Seed Core…]
[Welcome, Cultivator.]
[Name: Skill Orchard]
[Primary Function: Create and evolve skills through actions, logic, and growth.]
[All skills begin as seeds. Your life is the soil.]
[Let the cultivation begin.]
Ash blinked.
He wasn't the blinking type, normally. But when an ancient voice hums inside your brain like a divine farmer announcing planting season, it tends to earn a reaction.
"…Huh."
---
Not Screaming. Not Celebrating. Just Processing.
He stood up, brushing dirt off his knees.
No flash of power. No golden light. No swelling music.
Just… a presence in his mind. Gentle. Waiting.
Ash tapped the side of his head. "Still sane?"
No reply.
Then again—maybe.
> [Skill Orchard Available Commands:]
– [Observe]
– [Create Skill (Locked – Requires Seed Input)]
– [System Settings]
– [Soil State: Dormant]
– [User Cultivation Level: None]
– [Skill Inventory: Empty]
[Tip: To plant a skill seed, act. Do something meaningful. The Orchard watches.]
"…Great. I get a passive-aggressive vegetable god."
> [We prefer "Logical Growth Interface."]
Ash chuckled softly.
For a moment, he stood in the field, listening to the wind rustle the grass.
Then he grinned.
"…Alright. Let's garden."
---
Experiment One: Hoe With Intent
Ash raised his hoe.
This time, he didn't just swing.
He focused.
He gripped the handle tighter, took a stance that felt a bit dramatic, and glared at the weed with a level of seriousness previously reserved for bandit infestations.
Swing.
Thunk.
Swing.
Thunk.
Each hit had purpose. Precision. A mental note.
"I want to uproot things that resist me. I want to break through stubborn ground. I want to cultivate strength through farming."
Ash wasn't sure if he was overdoing it.
But it felt right.
The tenth strike landed with a strange pulse.
> [Seed Detected.]
[Processing Action: Hoe Strike + Intent + Repetition + Frustration + Conceptual Focus]
[Skill Created: "Stubborn Hoe Strike" (Seed Grade)]
– A low-tier skill formed from repeated agricultural action and emotional feedback.
– Effect: Slight increase in force when swinging with frustration and clear purpose.
– Evolvable. Current growth: 1%
[Note: Not all skills will be useful. But all can grow.]
Ash froze.
He wasn't sure whether to feel proud or embarrassed.
"…I literally just made rage farming into a technique."
> [Correct.]
He burst into a laugh. Short, dry, but real.
---
Nightfall: Questions and Soil
That evening, Ash sat on the crooked porch of his shack, cradling a chipped clay bowl of warm broth.
Above him, stars blinked.
Inside his head, the system hummed gently, like roots spreading into fertile soil.
He poked at it.
"Can I make cooking skills?"
> [Try.]
"Can I make spiritual body traits?"
> [With effort, logic, and proper ingredients.]
"…Can I create a skill that lets me sense when someone is lying?"
> [Requires deep understanding of truth, deception, and observation. Possible.]
Ash sipped his soup, eyes narrowing.
"…So you're saying if I live my life with focus and intent, I can grow the exact skills I need."
> [Yes. Slowly. Precisely. Logically. But yes.]
"…And if I want to make a body technique from eating spicy radishes?"
> [That depends on how serious you are about your radishes.]
Ash looked toward his field, where the night wind rustled cabbage leaves like little cloth flags.
He smiled.
For the first time, he felt like he didn't need to chase power.
Power would grow with him.
One weed, one swing, one ridiculous thought at a time.
---
End of Chapter 1
---