The sun was just starting to rise, painting the sky with soft orange and pink hues. Lin Fan stood at the edge of his family's rice field, his bare feet sinking into the cool, muddy water. The field looked tired, just like him. Most of the rice stalks were yellow and drooping, and the water was so shallow that the mud cracked in places.
Lin Fan was only seventeen, but his back already hurt like an old man's. He wore a faded shirt and pants that were patched in too many places to count. His hands were rough and brown from years of work. He looked at the field and sighed. This was all his family had left.
Behind him, their small wooden house sat at the edge of the field. Smoke drifted from the chimney, thin and weak. Inside, his mother was coughing again. She had been sick for months, and the medicine they needed was too expensive. Lin Fan's father had died last winter, leaving just the two of them.
Lin Fan gripped his old wooden hoe and stepped into the field. He started pulling weeds, his movements slow but steady. Every weed he pulled was one less thing stealing water from the rice. He tried not to think about how little rice was left to save.
As he worked, his mind wandered. He thought about the stories he'd heard as a child, stories of powerful cultivators who could fly through the sky, move mountains, and heal any sickness. But those people were always rich or born into great families. People like Lin Fan were supposed to stay in the mud, working until they couldn't stand anymore.
He knelt down to pull a stubborn weed, and his fingers brushed against something hard in the mud. Frowning, he dug around it. His hand closed on a small, round object. He pulled it out and wiped it clean on his shirt.
It was a seed. But not like any seed he'd ever seen. It glowed softly, a gentle green light pulsing from inside. Lin Fan stared at it, his heart beating faster. Was this some kind of spirit seed? He'd heard of them in stories, but never seen one in real life.
He looked around. The field was empty. The village was still quiet. Carefully, he dug a small hole in the center of the field and planted the seed. He covered it with mud and patted it down.
For a moment, nothing happened. Lin Fan waited, holding his breath.
Then, the ground trembled. A thin green sprout shot up from the mud, growing taller and thicker with every second. Lin Fan stumbled back, eyes wide. The sprout twisted and grew, leaves unfurling, until it stood as tall as his chest.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind. It was clear and calm, but Lin Fan couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman.
"You have awakened the Spirit Farmer System."
Lin Fan's mouth dropped open. He looked around, but there was no one there. Then, right in front of his eyes, a strange window appeared in the air. It looked like a floating piece of paper, with glowing words written on it:
[Spirit Farmer System Activated]
[Name: Lin Fan]
[Level 1: Plant, Grow, Cultivate]
[Task: Harvest your first Spirit Crop.]
Lin Fan blinked. He rubbed his eyes, but the window didn't go away. He reached out and touched the sprout. It was warm, almost like it was alive.
Suddenly, a wave of energy rushed through his body. His tired muscles felt lighter. The ache in his back faded. His mind felt clear, like he had just woken up from a good sleep.
He looked at his hands. They glowed faintly with a soft green light.
Is this… cultivation? Lin Fan thought, hardly daring to believe it.
He glanced back at the house. His mother's cough sounded again, weak and tired.
Lin Fan stood up straighter. He didn't know what this system was, or why it had chosen him. But he knew one thing: he wasn't going to waste this chance.
He would save his mother. He would protect his home. And maybe, just maybe, he would show the world that even a poor farmer could rise above the mud.