Chapter 1: Harvest
Another autumn harvest has arrived.
Passing through the long rift of the Gentlewind Spine, endless golden waves of wheat ripple in the breeze, while distant valleys quietly carry the tidings of a bountiful yield.
A party of four or five adventurers, after nearly half a month’s journey, fulfills their promise and arrives at the hidden paradise beyond the canyon.
A carrier pigeon soars overhead.
In the wheat fields, a white-haired girl suddenly frowns and looks up, a glint of wariness flashing in her eyes.
An urgent shout comes from behind.
“Sister Wenge, the village chief is calling you to the church!”
“Alright, I’m coming.”
The girl responds softly, no longer inspecting the wheat stalks. She rises from the field and, with a light leap, mounts her horse.
Her silver-white hair glows softly in the twilight. She pulls her black robe tight and hurries toward the village.
Sunlight streams through the stained glass of the church, casting a sacred glow over the quiet space. Even in this remote village, the ignorant folk are still blessed by the protection of Lairesis, the Lord of Silence.
A boy with a greatsword strapped to his back stands among the rows of pews, waiting silently alongside the village chief for someone’s arrival.
At that moment, a horse’s neigh echoes outside. A woman steps forward decisively, restraining her emotions as she walks slowly into the church.
Claude, unable to contain his excitement, rushes to embrace Wenge.
The girl freezes for a moment before gently patting the boy’s back. “Must you leave?”
He steps back, nodding solemnly. “Teacher, I’ve grown up…”
His reason is sufficient. The world is vast, and he wants to see it. She, who prefers staying put, can’t force others to remain confined.
Besides, if she truly wanted to cut off all contact with the outside world, why would she have let him venture out last time?
It’s not as if there aren’t a few merchant caravans passing through Maple Whisper Village.
As expected, this body influences her thinking. Otherwise, why would she worry so much, like some fretful woman?
Wenge shakes her head. Under the village chief’s guidance, she prays before a statue.
Yet their prayers are not for the protection of the Lord of Silence but for another unnamed deity, whose statue stands to the side, granting centuries of peace and prosperity.
“I hope everything goes well for you out there.”
“It will, Teacher. I won’t tarnish your name.” Claude mounts his horse, his confident smile fading into the twilight-lit path, disappearing into the boundless fields.
She isn’t worried—only slightly reluctant to see him go. Someone is already waiting for him at the canyon’s mouth.
“He’s grown up, after all.”
After bidding farewell to the village chief, Wenge rides toward the mountains.
From afar, a colossal tree looms, its canopy blotting out the sky. As she nears, she leads her horse to the stable, then deftly grabs a vine and swings up to a platform in a few swift moves.
The treehouse is rustic, its window adorned with vibrant bouquets of flowers.
Wenge pushes open the door and settles into a rocking chair by the fireplace. Suddenly, a voice rings in her ears.
[Harvest Points +0.01]
She’s used to it. But as she gazes at the sinking sun, a sense of trance overtakes her.
She’s been in this world too long. The endless years blur together, making it hard to recall exactly how much time has passed. Yet she still remembers the day she found that boy, on a snowy day outside Maple Whisper Village. Now that he’s grown and leaving, he’s merely returning to where he belongs.
She named him simply because, during the time she raised him, she loved lying in the grasslands, daydreaming under the sky.
“She” doesn’t belong here. Even this name isn’t hers—it belongs to this body.
Perhaps centuries ago, she transmigrated into an open-world game, one she had a hand in creating. Back then, she worked on coding and implementing features. When the game launched, the workload was relentless—overtime, double shifts, endless cycles.
Testing was inevitable, but some minor issues were tricky to resolve.
Her biggest regret? Choosing a female test account. Bias is a funny thing—she couldn’t even accept her past self’s choice. But over time, she understood. Who wants to stare at a grown man’s backside, after all?
She’d crafted the character’s face to look like a daughter’s, adding a touch of her unnoticed preferences. As a result, she’s stuck bearing the form of a silver-haired witch.
It’s cute, though. Quite cute.
The shock of going from a young man to a girl was overwhelming at first.
As a staff member transmigrated into a test account, everything should’ve been smooth sailing. But, as expected, things went wrong.
According to the game’s script, the protagonist—arriving from who-knows-where—would carve a path from a border town to the capital, sweeping through kings, suppressing evil gods and abysses, and even clearing side quests by defeating true gods.
But when she arrived, the world wasn’t what she knew. The empire on the map didn’t even exist! And because her account was an internal test number, the UI was half-paralyzed. The functions weren’t just incomplete—the farming system, newly introduced in the latest version, was the only part that worked normally.
As for weapons and magic modules? Only the most basic default components.
And so, a penniless, silver-haired witch with a watering can found herself transmigrated into an unfamiliar world.
The world is real. It doesn’t bend for the weak.
After the grind of her past life, she resolved to lay low. Farming seemed nice. With the new version’s skills at her disposal, she took to it like a natural.
[Harvest Points +0.01]
[Harvest Points +0.01]
[Harvest Lv.3 (1989/2000): Your output is increased fivefold, effective within a three-kilometer radius.]
The notifications keep flashing. Good thing she muted them long ago.
Wenge gets up, grills a steak, and makes a berry salad—a simple dinner done.
She doesn’t care about much anymore. What does the future have to do with her present, already comfortably laid-back self?
After washing up, she lies in a cozy hammock, hugging her Loch Ness Monster plushie, and drifts off to sleep.
The next morning, faint dawn light pierces the thousands-meter-long rift, streaming through the treehouse window.
Wenge pushes open the door, stretching lazily. Her silver hair cascades like a waterfall, shimmering in the morning’s beauty.
Early to bed, early to rise—far better than being a corporate slave.
She fries an egg, makes a sandwich, and pours some healthy milk. Wenge slips on the robe hanging on the wall, then grabs a few seeds from a storage box.
Harvest season starts today. The “Harvest” buff should level up soon.
She wonders which genius coded those numbers. Oh, right—it was her. Never mind.
Sitting by the fields, Wenge watches the villagers work methodically. Her aura skill’s range is vast—since reaching level three, it covers all the village’s farmland.
She occasionally lends a hand but spends most of her time sipping afternoon tea or helping at the clinic with minor injuries.
Mostly hunting wounds or colds—her basic healing magic suffices. Thanks to the village’s peaceful isolation and unique geography, conflicts are rare.
It’s no wonder she chose this place, fleeing the capital and traveling three thousand kilometers day and night.
The sound of harvesting continues.
Suddenly, a familiar voice calls from the distance. Wenge looks up, licking cream from her lips before turning her head.
A plainly dressed girl runs over excitedly, handing her an envelope.
It’s addressed to “Aiden Holm.”
At that moment, the skill upgrade notification chimes. The corners of Wenge’s mouth curl up unconsciously.
Veyi, seeing Wenge’s expression, assumes it’s joy from missing her old friend. “Uncle Aiden hasn’t been back in years. I wonder what this could be about—”
[“Harvest” has been upgraded to Level 4]
[Harvest Lv.4 (0/10000): Your output is increased tenfold.]