The arrival of the Imperial Scouts on the ridge had been a silent omen, but their return three days later was a deafening reality. This time, they did not linger in the shadows. A small company of six riders, clad in the black-and-crimson lacquered leather of the Provincial Military Bureau, rode directly through the center of Stone Creek Village.
The clatter of their well-shod horses on the frozen mud brought the village to a standstill. These were not the Landlord's local enforcers; these were the "Talons of the Throne." At their head was a man with a face like weathered parchment, a Sub-Commander named Officer Wei.
Lin Yan stood at the gates of the ranch, his hand resting on the smooth, cold iron of the new Watchtower's foundation. Beside him, Qin Zhan stood with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed in a professional appraisal of the soldiers' discipline.
"Lin Yan of the Stone Creek Lin family?" Officer Wei asked, his voice devoid of emotion as he unrolled a yellow silk scroll.
"I am," Lin Yan replied, maintaining a steady gaze.
"By order of the Provincial Governor, acting under the Imperial Mandate for Border Defense: The Lin Ranch is hereby designated as a 'Strategic Breeding Auxiliary.' You are commanded to produce no fewer than thirty 'Iron-Wind' mounts by the next autumn. Furthermore, a demonstration of the 'Iron-Hoof' breed's utility for heavy logistical transport is required. Now."
The villagers who had followed the soldiers let out a collective gasp. A "command" from the Bureau was often a death sentence disguised as an honor; if the ranch failed to meet the quota, the property could be seized as "wasted Imperial resources."
The Demonstration of Might
Lin Yan knew that if he played the role of the submissive peasant, he would be swallowed whole. He needed to prove that the ranch was more valuable as a partner than as a seized asset.
"The Bureau honors us, Officer Wei," Lin Yan said, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "But a demonstration of 'utility' requires more than words. My bulls are not common oxen. They do not merely pull; they conquer."
Lin Yan signaled to Lin Da and the Range Guard.
In the center of the yard sat a massive granite slab, originally intended as the base for the new forge's heavy anvil. It weighed nearly two thousand pounds. Two local oxen, borrowed from the village, had failed to move it even an inch earlier that morning.
Lin Yan led King Granite out of the corral. The Alpha Bull was a mountain of dark muscle, his "L" brand standing out clearly on his hip. He didn't use a traditional wooden yoke, which would snap under the bull's raw power. Instead, Lin Yan used a custom-made Chest-Harness of braided rawhide and iron rings, a design from the System that distributed weight across the bull's powerful shoulders rather than his neck.
"San! The chain!" Lin Yan commanded.
The heavy iron chain was hooked to the granite slab. Lin Yan walked to the front of the bull. He didn't use a whip. He placed a hand on King Granite's nose and whispered a single word.
The bull leaned forward. The chain went taut with a sound like a harp string snapping. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then, with a low, gutteral grunt, King Granite dug his iron-hard hooves into the earth. The massive stone slab groaned and then slid, carving a deep trench through the courtyard mud as if it were soft butter.
Officer Wei's eyes widened. He had seen the Emperor's siege engines moved by teams of twenty men, but he had never seen a single beast move such weight with such deliberate, focused power.
"He does not tire, Officer," Lin Yan said, patting the bull's flank. "And he eats the scrub grass that would kill a southern ox. That is the utility of the Lin Ranch."
The First Market Day
Wei stayed to record his observations, but his presence served as a catalyst for Lin Yan's next move: The First Ranch Market Day.
Lin Yan knew he needed a buffer against the Bureau's greed. He needed a network of allies. He opened the ranch gates to the traveling merchants who had been circling the area since the "Silk-Wool" rumors began.
The courtyard was transformed. Stalls were set up displaying the sisters' wool, the refined mountain salt, and the first "Ranch-Cured" meats.
Among the crowd of local traders and curious villagers, a mysterious traveler caught Lin Yan's eye. The man wore a heavy traveling cloak of a deep, midnight blue, and his horse—a lithe, desert-bred mare—was far superior to any local mount. He didn't haggle over the wool. He didn't look at the meat. He spent his time examining the Watchtower Forge and the way the Iron-Wind foal moved in the high pasture.
Lin Yan approached him as the sun began to set. "You have the eyes of a man who looks for flaws, traveler. Did you find any?"
The man turned. He was middle-aged, with a neatly trimmed beard and a scar that ran through his left eyebrow. "I found a boy playing a dangerous game," the man said. His accent wasn't from the province; it was refined, cultured—the accent of the Capital. "You've shown the Bureau your bulls. Now they know your strength. But you haven't shown them your loyalty. That is a mistake."
"Loyalty is earned, not demonstrated," Lin Yan replied.
The traveler smiled thinly. He reached into his cloak and produced a small, silver token engraved with a soaring hawk. "My name is Cui. I represent a 'Private Interest' in the Capital that finds your 'Iron-Wind' project... intriguing. The Bureau wants your horses for war. My masters want them for something more... discreet."
"And what would that be?"
"Speed," Cui said. "Information is the only thing more valuable than iron in this Dynasty. A horse that can cross the Northern Ridges in three days instead of six can change the fate of a Ministry."
He tossed the token to Lin Yan. "Keep it. When the Bureau tries to squeeze you—and they will—show that to the next messenger. It won't stop them, but it will make them hesitate. They will wonder whose shadow you are standing in."
The Shadow of the Academy
As the market day wound down and the merchants departed, a lone rider arrived from the direction of the county seat. It was a messenger from the Blue Clouds Academy, but he didn't bring a letter from Lin Xiao.
He brought a summons for Lin Yan.
"Master Lu requests your presence at the Academy's suburban villa," the messenger said, his face grim. "He says the 'Ten Percent' agreement must be renegotiated. The Provincial Governor is asking questions about the 'Scholar's Bond'."
Lin Yan looked at the silver token in his hand, then at the "Big House" where his family was laughing over the day's profits. The "Slow Burn" was officially over. He was no longer a farmer protecting a patch of dirt; he was a piece on a much larger board.
"Qin Zhan," Lin Yan called out.
The soldier appeared from the shadows of the forge. "I'm here."
"The Bureau wants bulls. The Capital wants speed. And the Academy wants a piece of our soul," Lin Yan said, looking up at the Watchtower. "Double the training for the Range Guard. We're going to the Academy tomorrow. And we're taking the Silver Ghost."
"You want to show him off?" Qin Zhan asked.
"No," Lin Yan said, his eyes turning cold. "I want to show them that a Ghost cannot be caged."
The Midnight Reflection
That night, Lin Yan sat in the quiet of the Big House. He pulled up his System status one last time before the journey.
> [Current Assets: The Lin Ranch]
> Livestock: 10 'Vitality' Chickens, 8 'Silk' Sheep, 4 Mountain Goats, 1 'Iron-Wind' Foal, 12 'Iron-Hoof' Bulls, 1 'Silver Ghost' Stallion.
> Infrastructure: Big House (Rammed Earth), Watchtower Forge, Reinforced Corrals, Under-floor Heating.
> Security: 12 Range Guard Recruits, 2 Mountain Curs, 1 Professional Soldier.
> Quest Active: 'The Tribute Trial' - Navigate the demands of the Bureau and the Academy.
>
He realized then that he had built a small kingdom in less than a year. But the bigger the kingdom, the more it cost to keep. He thought of his brother Xiao, alone among the "Vultures" of the Academy, and he tightened his grip on his ledger.
The Cowboy of the Great Yan was no longer just riding for survival. He was riding for the future of his bloodline.