The scorching waves of summer rolled in, distorting the earth as if it were being roasted under a relentless sun. The blazing orb, with its domineering presence, poured its harsh light upon the land without mercy.

  For Seleratus, the red dragon, this might have been a boon, but for the plants he tended—it was a silent, yet deadly, minor catastrophe.

  He stood at the edge of a ten-meter-square field, his crimson vertical pupils scanning the scene before him with focused intensity.

  The Sunshroom Mushrooms, carrots, and potatoes—crops he had meticulously nurtured—responded to the excessive sunlight with vigorous vitality. Their green leaves swayed in the hot wind, stubbornly resisting the oppressive heat.

  Yet, this vibrant display of life did little to ease the lingering worry etched between Seleratus’s brows.

  His thoughts drifted back to the time of his birth, during the transition between spring and summer. The air had still carried the dampness of spring rain, mingled with the fresh scent of early summer.

  The gentle rain had nourished all living things, and the soft breeze had encouraged the plants to thrive under such favorable conditions.

  Now, the wheel of seasons had turned, and midsummer had arrived.

  The temperature continued to rise, and the humidity fluctuated unpredictably—sometimes dry as a desert, other times so stifling it was hard to breathe.

  Yet, overall, the moist climate had always been the golden period for plant growth. But now, it seemed, things had changed.

  He leaned down slightly, his draconic head drawing closer to the seedlings, carefully observing the faint yellowing edges of the leaves.

  After just one day without timely watering, these tender shoots had begun to wilt, as if silently pleading for the arrival of nourishing rain.

  A flicker of frustration rose in Seleratus’s heart, and he muttered under his breath, “Why are the seedlings I worked so hard to grow so vulnerable to the sun?”

  Three pressing concerns swirled in his mind, each deepening his sense of helplessness:

  1. The labor shortage—he had no reliable helper to share the heavy farm work. Alone, he had to meticulously inspect and water the plants to ensure they survived.

  2. His rivalry with his brother, Agnus—who surpassed him in both strength and combat skills. Even when he occasionally gained the upper hand, he could never truly subdue that brutish dragon.

  3. The ambition buried deep within his soul—every time he wielded a hoe with his claws to till the soil, a strange impulse stirred within him.

  It seemed innate, a pride and ambition unique to red dragons.

  The whispers of the Evil Dragon God echoed in his mind: *You are a noble red dragon. How can you stoop to such menial labor? You should soar through the skies, conquer the world, and let your roar herald the beginning of calamity across every inch of land.*

  These three thoughts intertwined like vines, tightly binding Seleratus’s heart and filling him with unprecedented pressure and irritation.

  He raised a forepaw, his gaze falling on the ten-liter elemental water jug he had received as a beginner’s gift.

  When he first obtained it, this small jug had been a great help. The clear water flowed endlessly, quenching the parched land and nurturing his hopes.

  But now, faced with an expanding field and increasingly hot, dry weather, the jug’s capacity was woefully inadequate.

  As he stared at the pitiful amount of water left in the jug, Seleratus felt only deep frustration and a simmering anger.

  What made him even more exasperated was that the once-affordable items in the discount store had vanished. No matter how many times he refreshed the store, he couldn’t find any items to expand the jug’s capacity.

  It was as if the system had foreseen his needs and deliberately increased the difficulty, further straining his already meager points balance.

  With a sense of resignation, Seleratus opened the system’s discount store again. He remembered the special items that had once cost only a few dozen points.

  Now, their prices had skyrocketed, often reaching five or six hundred points—far beyond his reach.

  To make matters worse, after the system update, the number of items in the store had increased from three to five.

  On the surface, it seemed like the system was being generous. In reality, the prices of all the items had surged.

  Seleratus sighed inwardly: *This wretched system is playing the same game as the real world—inflation.*

  The 100 points he earned through daily hard work were practically worthless. They might as well rename the discount store the “Expensive Store” to spare him the false hope.

  In the end, it all came down to not having enough points… As his thoughts wandered, Seleratus suddenly remembered the top-tier equipment items he had once seen in the discount store.

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  The legendary Dragon Slayer Sword, forged from iron-hard dragon bone, with a hilt made from the ancient wood of the World Tree, and a blade adorned with a rare energy gem that emitted a mysterious glow.

  Although the system’s description of the sword was vague, Seleratus instinctively knew that wielding it would elevate his combat prowess to a new level, even granting him a 30% damage bonus against other dragons.

  At this thought, an inexplicable sense of dread crept up his spine.

  Why would the system sell such a targeted weapon? What was it hiding?

  Could it be that one day, the system would turn against its “host,” enacting a classic “kill the goose that lays the golden eggs” scenario?

  Once this idea took root, it grew like weeds in his mind, casting a shadow over his heart.

  He shook his head vigorously, forcing these ominous thoughts out of his mind.

  As the chaotic thoughts receded like a retreating tide, Seleratus refocused his attention on the field before him.

  After days of hard work, the harvest season had finally arrived.

  The Sunshroom Mushrooms, carrots, and potatoes greedily absorbed the sunlight and rain, growing lush and green.

  After patiently waiting for five days, the bountiful harvest he had been longing for was finally here.

  Though some crops had already ripened early, emitting an enticing aroma, he resisted the urge to pick them prematurely.

  He held onto the hope of a grand harvest, eagerly anticipating the moment when all the crops would reach perfect ripeness—when the entire ten-meter-square field would be ready.

  However, the Seven-Day Growth Acceleration Card, which had once brought vitality to this land, had turned into a pile of dull ashes. A gentle breeze scattered them into nothingness, leaving only faint traces behind.

  Seleratus sighed softly and shifted his gaze away from the ashes, beginning the day’s laborious yet ritualistic harvest.

  He crouched down, his massive frame moving carefully as he uprooted each plump Sunshroom Mushroom from the damp soil.

  The tips of his claws brushed against the mushroom’s surface, feeling the fine grains of soil that carried the raw essence of nature.

  He held the mushroom up to his face, inhaling deeply the faint yet vibrant aroma.

  For a moment, he felt the mushroom’s inner vitality, and a dangerous thought flashed through his mind—should he just… eat it?

  Absorb this life force condensed from the essence of the heavens and earth directly into his body? But in an instant, reason extinguished this wild impulse.

  The Sunshroom Mushroom was a product of the system, but it was ultimately an independent entity born from a single seed. It couldn’t produce seeds for future planting.

  If left in the field, its life force would gradually dissipate over time, eventually returning to the earth.

  Only by harvesting it promptly and storing it in the system space could it remain in its perfect, nascent state, saving him the trouble of preservation and storage.

  The joy of the harvest eased some of his inner turmoil. Seleratus worked tirelessly, his claws moving swiftly as he gathered the ripe crops.

  After a busy session, he tallied the day’s yield: 30 Sunshroom Mushrooms, 46 plump potatoes, and over 200 carrots, which now formed a small mountain in his system space.

  Yet, amidst the joy of the harvest, there was a tinge of bitterness. After all, this abundance wasn’t achieved under normal circumstances.

  The carrot seeds had been borrowed from the system’s loan service, planted, and accelerated to maturity with the help of the Seven-Day Growth Acceleration Card and fertilizer.

  The system’s recent update had quietly introduced a “loan service.”

  When he reached Level 2, this feature unlocked, immediately baring its predatory fangs.

  The system’s cold rules were merciless: borrowing 1 point required repayment of 2 points. If the loan wasn’t repaid within a week, the interest would balloon to 4 points.

  Even if he repaid on time, he would still have to pay a hefty 3 points. To make matters worse, the cost of carrot seeds was another cruel twist from the system.

  Each seed cost 1 point, but after all the effort of planting and harvesting, he could only earn a meager 9 points in return.

  A full tenth of his hard-earned carrots were forcibly deducted by the system. His low credit rating only made things worse, as the points he had mortgaged could only be used to buy carrot seeds. He couldn’t purchase fertilizer or any of the coveted items in the discount store.

  Under such pressure, Seleratus was forced to make a difficult decision—to sell all of today’s harvest.

  He kept only 6 Sunshroom Mushrooms, 6 potatoes, and about 40 carrots as his personal food supply.

  When he saw his account balance skyrocket and finally settle at 3,100 points, a long-lost sense of joy and satisfaction washed over him.

  This was the first true “bountiful harvest” he had experienced since arriving in this world.

  However, this fleeting joy was soon overshadowed by the harsh reality closing in.

  The intense heat of midsummer had truly arrived. The edge of the forest where he lived bordered an active volcano, and the volcano’s relentless heat was quietly eroding the surrounding ecosystem.

  Seleratus worried that his dragon bloodline, and the high-temperature aura his mother unconsciously emitted, had already reduced the rainfall in the area.

  If there wasn’t sufficient rain in the future, even if the seedlings sprouted, the lack of water would slow their growth.

  After calculating the total sales of his crops, Seleratus looked at the 3,100 points in his system account and felt a sudden urge to “buy out the entire store.”

  But the cold numbers quickly brought him back to reality.

  At the same time, he looked down at the field that had just experienced a “bountiful harvest.”

  The soil was churned and pockmarked, littered with the remnants of the harvest.

  To replant, he would have to go through the tedious process of tilling the land again.

  At this thought, the frustration that had just subsided flared up once more like a wildfire.

  The exhausting labor of farming and harvesting was already taxing enough.

  Now, without the Seven-Day Growth Acceleration Card, the plants would grow at their normal pace—a slow and grueling process.

  A heavy sigh escaped Seleratus’s broad nostrils, carrying a mix of resignation and weariness.

  He forced himself to shake off these negative emotions.

  Picking up the basic elemental hoe, Seleratus strode back to the now-empty field.

  He knew that to prepare for the next round of planting, he would have to till, loosen, and level the soil once more.

  Gripping the hoe tightly, he took a deep breath and began to swing it—over and over, repeating the same motions tirelessly. Tilling, breaking up the soil, leveling the land…

  By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, he had finally finished tilling, restoring the field to its former flat, soft, and even state.

  Then, he carefully scattered the new batch of seeds across the freshly prepared soil.

  During breaks in his tilling, Seleratus would pause to pull up his system account and meticulously check the cold numbers.

  He feared the cunning system might be secretly deducting the points he had worked so hard to earn.

  At the same time, the rising cost of crop seeds made his heart ache with every glance at the numbers.

  Frowning, he calculated in his mind and arrived at a relatively optimistic conclusion: under ideal conditions, a mature potato plant could yield up to five plump potatoes, which, if sold, would earn him 50 points.

  In comparison, each Sunshroom Mushroom could also fetch 50 points, but its growth cycle was much longer, requiring more time and effort to cultivate.

  Thus, Seleratus concluded that as long as the potatoes were provided with sufficient nutrients to ensure a 90% yield, their economic value was comparable to that of Sunshroom Mushrooms. Both were green-tier plants, and their profits were essentially the same. (ー_ー)!!

  However, he also reflected on his previous planting strategy. The spacing between plants had been too generous, wasting valuable land.

  Now, he needed to rethink his layout to maximize land efficiency and achieve the highest possible yield per unit area.

  After much deliberation and calculation, Seleratus devised a meticulous planting plan: he would divide the ten-by-ten-meter field into two functional zones.

  In the potato zone (10m × 5m), he carefully calculated the spacing between rows. He decided on a row spacing of approximately 0.65 meters, allowing for about seven rows of potato plants. Each row, based on the growth habits of potatoes, could accommodate around 28 plants (10m ÷ 0.35m). This meant the entire potato zone could hold about 196 plants.

  In the carrot zone (10m × 5m), he opted for a denser planting approach. Carrots required less space, so he reduced the row spacing to about 0.175 meters. This allowed for 28 rows of carrots within the five-meter width. Each row could densely accommodate around 133 plants (10m ÷ 0.075m), resulting in a total of roughly 3,724 carrots in the entire zone.

  As night fell, the forest was gradually enveloped in a vast black veil. The noise of the day faded, leaving only the faint red glow at the volcano’s peak, which flickered like a ghostly beacon in the boundless darkness, eerie and lonely.

  Seleratus finished planting and felt the fatigue of the day wash over him. He silently returned to his lair and settled onto his stone perch.

  Before sleep claimed him, he couldn’t help but glance out the window one last time. The night sky was unusually quiet, a silence that felt unsettling. Only the wind whispered through the leaves, its sound so faint it was more of a sigh than a murmur…

  Seleratus frowned slightly, not from the cold but from an inexplicable premonition. He felt that tonight’s wind lacked its usual gentleness, carrying instead a rough edge. The air, too, held an indescribable heaviness—not the calm before a storm, but rather the sense that the storm had already arrived, lurking unseen in the darkness. Some unknown danger wasn’t just approaching; it was already here, biding its time.

  He frowned again, his crimson vertical pupils betraying a growing unease beneath their calm surface. He tried to close his eyes, but they felt as heavy as lead, refusing to relax completely.

  In the darkness, the wind continued its soft rustling, sounding no different from any other night.

  “Finally finished today’s work. Time to sleep.”