Gardener of Eden

Chapter 113: Chapter 113: Exhausted Land

Leaving behind the bustling commercial noise of the Citadel’s inner districts, Rowan walked toward the expansive agricultural terraces carved into the lower ridges of Floor 5. Beneath the endless crimson sunset sky, miles of golden dirt and stunted wheat stretched across the terraced hills. Yet the moment his boots stepped off the stone paving and onto the soil, a dull, aching heaviness pressed against his mind.

As he grew stronger, his connection to the earth and flora had expanded far beyond simple perception. He didn’t just see wilted crops; he felt the land’s deep, bone-weary exhaustion. Over-cultivated by town farmers trying to feed thousands of daily travelers, the soil’s natural mana channels were completely drained, choked with nutrient rot and calcified mineral buildup. It was a dying field forced to yield crops it no longer had the strength to bear.

As Rowan strode down the central dirt path toward the field manager’s wooden estate, he didn’t wait to be officially assigned the work. Tipping the brim of his Enchanted Straw Hat, he casually circulated his core energy, sending a warm, gentle tide of vitality mana through the soles of his boots and straight into the cracked earth.

A soothing wave of pure, living energy surged through the parched subterranean root networks. Beneath his feet, the soil drank greedily. After weeks of continuous usage—from the fields back at Sunny Vale to the toxic depths of Floor 4—the skill finally reached its tipping point.

[Ding!]

[Skill Level Up: Breath of Eden (Level 2 > 3)]

The quality of his mana pulse instantly shifted. The green light expanding beneath the dirt deepened into a rich, emerald hue, radiating three times wider than before with half the effort. Beside the pathway, a row of sickly, graying wheat stalks suddenly straightened, their withered leaves unfurling into a vibrant, healthy golden sheen right before his eyes.

A dry smile touched Rowan’s lips as he felt the newfound depth of his authority over the earth. Resting his trusty hoe over his shoulder, he continued toward the manager’s office, ready to completely revolutionize the Citadel’s harvest.

***

Rowan stepped past the creaking threshold of the small, dilapidated office. The air inside smelled faintly of dry dust, old parchment, and medicinal herbs that had long lost their potency. Lying on a squeaky wooden cot in the corner was a frail, white-bearded man, coughing softly into a threadbare blanket.

Working as a non-combat farmer on the fifth floor of the Tower was backbreaking, unforgiving labor. Most agriculturalists preferred the safety of the surface realm, leaving only those trapped by debt, stubbornness, or tragic circumstances to manage the exhausted, mana-drained soil of the lower floors.

”I’m here to handle the guild commissions for the crop terraces,” Rowan said politely, offering a gentle nod.

The old man barely opened an eye, waving a gnarled, liver-spotted hand in dismissive frustration. ”Save it, kid,” he wheezed, his voice raspy and thin. ”I’ve seen a dozen high-and-mighty adventurers come through that door thinking they can solve a soil blight with a fire spell or a bucket of water. You’re wasting your time. The land is dead, and so is this harvest. Go back to hunting wolves.”

Rowan didn’t get offended. Tipping the brim of his Enchanted Straw Hat, he took a step toward the cluttered wooden desk, where a withered, dying potted sprout sat in bone-dry dirt.

Without a word, Rowan lightly tapped the end of his trusty hoe against the floorboards. Channeling his newly upgraded Breath of Eden (Level 3), a serene, emerald pulse of pure vitality mana rippled smoothly through the cramped room.

The effect was instantaneous. The withered sprout on the desk unfurled within seconds, blooming into a vibrant, glowing golden flower that filled the dusty office with a rich, sweet fragrance. At the same time, the gentle wave of vitality washed over the old man’s chest, easing his rattling cough and flushing healthy color back into his pale cheeks.

The old farmer sat up abruptly, his jaw slack as he stared from the blooming plant to the calm young man standing before him.

”Now then,” Rowan smiled softly, resting his hoe over his shoulder. ”Shall we talk about fixing your fields?”

***

The old farmer wiped his eyes, staring at the blooming golden flower on his desk before looking up at Rowan in sheer disbelief. Rowan pulled a rough wooden stool over, resting his trusty hoe against his knee as he tipped the brim of his Enchanted Straw Hat.

”The land isn’t dead,” Rowan said softly. ”It’s just severely overworked and starving for proper care. I’ve put together a comprehensive three-step plan to revitalize the soil and guarantee the continuity of these farmland terraces.”

Step 1: Immediate Harvest & Organic Enrichment

Rowan would first harvest every remaining mature and semi-ripe crop across the hills to immediately stop them from leeching residual mana from the dirt. Following the harvest, he would spread a thick layer of natural beast compost—synthesized from local monster byproducts and organic waste—to infuse high-density organic nutrients and minerals deep back into the soil matrix.

Step 2: Strategic Crop Rotation Schedule

Next, he would divide the terraced fields into four distinct quadrants and institute a strict yearly crop rotation schedule. By cycling corn, wheat, tomatoes, and potatoes across different sectors, the varying root depths and biological demands would naturally replenish nitrogen levels, break pest life cycles, and prevent localized nutrient exhaustion.

Step 3: Subterranean Mana-Sealing & Vitality Irrigation

Finally, Rowan would channel his newly leveled Breath of Eden (Level 3) deep into the bedrock to weave a network of living subterranean root-veins. This underground system would trap ambient ground moisture, neutralize mineral toxicity, and lock vitality mana directly inside the root zone, creating a self-sustaining irrigation grid that keeps the earth rich and moist year-round.

The old man sat frozen on his cot, tears welling in his weathered eyes as the full scale of the plan settled in. ”You... you can actually pull that off?”

Rowan grinned, standing up and resting his hoe over his shoulder. ”Sit back, rest up, and take it easy. By sunset, these dead hills are going to be the greenest pride of Floor 5.”

Stepping out into the warm, perpetual sunset, Rowan placed his palm against the earth and began channeling a massive tide of emerald light, putting his plan into immediate, breathtaking motion.

Rowan stepped over to the rickety storage house, where dozens of heavy burlap sacks sat stacked in dark corners, forgotten and coated in thick layers of dust. Opening the ties, he found vast stashes of dormant seeds—corn kernels, grains of golden wheat, dried tomato seeds, and hardy seed potatoes—that the old farmer had long given up on ever planting.

Carrying the sacks out into the open under the warm, crimson sky, Rowan walked to the crest of the central terrace hill and planted the wooden shaft of his trusty hoe firmly into the dirt.

”Terra Tilling,” Rowan murmured softly.

A brilliant surge of emerald mana exploded outward from his weapon’s blade, rippling across the vast hillsides in four sweeping directional waves. The dry, calcified topsoil responded like a living creature. Hardened clay shattered, stubborn rocks were gently pushed aside, and the exhausted earth churned, turned, and aerated itself into a rich, deep mahogany loam. In seconds, the sprawling hillsides reformed into four pristine, perfectly measured agricultural quadrants.

With a flick of his wrist, Rowan channeled his Gardener of Eden authority to lift the thousands of dormant seeds out of the burlap sacks, suspending them in a shimmering cloud of light. Like a conductor guiding an unseen symphony, he swept his hands across the air, sending the seeds gliding seamlessly into their designated sectors:

Section One: Rows of golden corn kernels buried deep into the rich lower terrace.

Section Two: Grains of high-yield wheat dispersed evenly across the open western field.

Section Three: Vine-bound tomato seeds set in precise, elevated mound lines.

Section Four: Hardy seed potatoes nestled into cool, moisture-locking furrows along the eastern ridge.

The tilled earth folded back over the seeds with a soft, satisfying rustle. Activated by his newly upgraded Breath of Eden (Level 3), the subterranean soil hummed with concentrated vitality. Before the dust even settled, vibrant green sprouts burst through the surface across all four sectors, transforming the gray, desolate terraces into an immaculate, thriving tapestry of new life.

***

Rowan stepped back into the creaking wooden office, casually brushing dark, nutrient-rich soil from his palms. The old farmer was standing near the doorway, leaning heavily on a carved wooden cane while staring out the small window in stunned silence. Beyond the glass, four immaculate quadrants of vibrant, emerald sprouts were already rising from the freshly turned earth, swaying gently beneath the perpetual crimson sunset.

”It’s all seeded, tilled, and irrigated,” Rowan said smoothly, tipping the brim of his Enchanted Straw Hat. ”I’m heading back into the Citadel to grab a room at an inn. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to check on the progress and help you manage the first harvest cycle.”

The old man opened his mouth to speak, but the sheer absurdity of seeing miles of dead, calcified clay transformed into a thriving, living miracle in less than an hour left him completely speechless. He simply gave a slow, trembling nod, his weathered eyes glistening with profound relief as he watched Rowan swing his trusty hoe over his shoulder.

Leaving the farm terraces behind, Rowan began the slow walk back toward the grand stone ribs of the Crossroads Citadel. As the adrenaline faded, a deep, heavy exhaustion settled into his bones—the undeniable hangover of completely draining his core mana pool. Transforming miles of depleted earth, executing a large-scale Terra Tilling, and fueling four distinct crop lines with his newly upgraded Breath of Eden in a single afternoon was an immense physical and magical strain, even with his elevated Level 10 stats. His legs felt like lead, and every step took deliberate focus.

Navigating through the bustling, twilight-lit streets of the Citadel, Rowan barely noticed the evening crowds or shouting merchants. He walked straight into a quiet, cozy inn tucked away in the shadow of the titan’s spine. After paying the innkeeper for a private room, he trudged up the wooden stairs, pushed open the door, and unbuckled his leather belt.

Leaning his hoe carefully against the bedpost and resting his hat on a chair, Rowan collapsed straight onto the plush, soft cotton bed. The moment his head sank into the feather pillow, the heavy oblivion of restorative sleep claimed him, pulling him under before his eyes could even close.