Scythe

In the midsummer of July, a fiery red sun hung in the azure sky.

Across the boundless plains, wheat fields were scattered like stars, divided into neat little squares.

As the summer breeze blew, the wheat surged in waves, and a few tiny black dots could be faintly seen within the fields; those were the people harvesting the wheat.

Duke held a scythe in his hand, his back arched, harvesting the wheat with nimble movements.

Sweat dripped from his chin onto the earthy yellow ground, evaporating before it could leave a single trace.

The scythe was his only possession and his only reliance; the rust on the blade looked like dried blood, yet the edge was incredibly bright.

"Little Duke, finish this row and let's go eat. Your Aunt Anna has already prepared the Wheat Cakes." A burly man said to Duke while swinging his own scythe.

Duke's eyes lit up at the mention of food; after working all morning, he was both exhausted and famished.

He licked his cracked lips and replied, "Alright, Uncle John."

The two men bent down and worked even harder, their linen clothes already soaked through with sweat.

Only after finishing this patch of wheat did the two men come to the shade of a nearby tree to rest for a moment, hiding from the scorching sun.

Aunt Anna hurried over from the distant fields carrying two buckets, which contained Wheat Cakes and fresh water.

Her arms were thicker than those of many men in the village, and she walked along the ridges with ease and steady steps while carrying the buckets.

As Aunt Anna brought lunch, the other commoners still working in the wheat fields also gathered around.

Duke was quick-witted; he grabbed a Wheat Cake from the bucket with one hand and picked up a wooden ladle with the other, gulping down several mouthfuls of water.

In his past life, he had at least received a higher education, so he naturally knew not to drink too quickly.

But if he had been any later, this wooden ladle would have passed through everyone's lips.

Seeing Duke acting so impatient, Aunt Anna stood with her hands on her hips and laughed, scolding, "You child! There are plenty of Wheat Cakes for those working for Count Hardy, don't be in such a rush!"

Duke chuckled and began to gnaw on the thick, yellow, dry cake in his hands.

He had been an orphan since he was young and had only survived by relying on the charity of the villagers.

Uncle John's family were his neighbors, and they would bring him along for any work they could find to help Duke earn a bite to eat.

Duke was never afraid of hardship or fatigue; he would do any job that could fill his stomach.

He was very grounded and didn't feel superior just because he was a transmigrator; he only wanted to reduce the time he spent hungry.

The taste of the Wheat Cake was naturally terrible, but it could fill one's stomach, something many commoners couldn't even get on a regular day.

They only had such treatment because they were working for Count Hardy, receiving one free meal of Wheat Cakes every day.

The vast wheat fields surrounding them all belonged to Count Hardy.

Duke sat under the tree, gnawing on his Wheat Cake while enjoying the comfort of the breeze brushing against his face.

After eating, he could lie down under the tree for a nap, and once the sun's heat subsided, he would have to get back to work; one didn't eat the noble lord's food for free.

Duke ate three whole Wheat Cakes for this meal; at sixteen, he was in the middle of a growth spurt, and even after three thick cakes, he still felt like he could eat more.

Despite eating so much, he would soon be hungry again once he started working, as his stomach lacked any real sustenance.

After finishing his meal, Duke found a comfortable spot under the tree to lie down and pretend to sleep.

With a thought, he saw a small tree appear in his mind.

This tree was rooted in a void, no more than a meter tall, with only a single branch.

On the branch was a very small green bud, so tiny that one wouldn't notice it without looking closely.

After focusing his attention on the bud, he received a piece of information.

[Scythe: LV1 (989/1000)]

Every skill Duke possessed would become a branch on the skill tree, and he could increase its level by grinding proficiency.

As the level increased, it would gradually unlock four forms: bud, leaf, flower, and fruit, and unlocking them would grant some unknown rewards.

Duke had been in this body for some time, but this tree had only appeared today.

He had swung his scythe all morning, yet he was still a bit short of maxing out his proficiency.

Duke took his scythe, sat on the ground, and swung it hard, only to find that he hadn't gained any proficiency.

He thought for a moment, stood up, planted his feet firmly, and swung the scythe using the combined force of his waist, shoulders, and arms.

[Scythe: LV1 (990/1000)]

As expected, swinging the scythe randomly doesn't increase proficiency... Duke thought to himself.

He immediately continued to swing the scythe until he was somewhat out of breath, and only then did the Scythe Skill finally level up.

[Scythe: LV2 (0/1300)]

At the same time, on the branch of the skill tree, that tiny green bud grew into a tender green leaf.

[Scythe Skill level increased, gained 0.1 Free Attribute Points]

Duke saw his attribute panel appear on the trunk of the skill tree in his mind.

[Constitution: 4.6]

[Strength: 4.4]

[Agility: 4.6]

[Mental Power: 8.1]

[Free Attribute Points: 0.1]

Through the information fed back by the Skill Tree, he learned that the stats for a normal adult male were all 5 points.

My stats are really quite lopsided, Duke thought to himself.

Actually, stats like strength were normal; he was not yet an adult and had grown up in poor conditions, so it made sense for his stats to be lower.

Only this mental power was a bit too prominent, and he had no idea what the reason was.

Duke looked at the 0.1 Free Attribute Point and, after considering it, added it to Constitution.

After adding the point, he did not feel much of a change, only a warm current circulating through his entire body before it vanished.

Constitution enhanced basic physical qualities like endurance and stamina, which was exactly what Duke needed right now.

He did not need strength or agility for the time being; cutting wheat and doing farm work did not require much strength, so Constitution was more important.

Duke also considered that once his Constitution improved, his body's recovery and immunity would also increase.

The level of medical care in this era was truly worrying, and even a small injury could potentially lead to death.

In the afternoon, the group continued to the wheat field to bend over and cut wheat.

Duke discovered that cutting wheat was much easier for him than before, and the Scythe in his hand felt much more intuitive to use.

The process of cutting wheat was the most monotonous, exhausting, and tiring; Duke's clothes were already soaked, and his exposed arms were covered in many fine, bloody scratches.

Sometimes he had to stop to wipe the sweat from his forehead with his clothes so that his eyes would not be blurred by the sweat.

It was not until dusk, with the sun slanting low, that the group packed up and prepared to end the day's labor.

Duke wiped the sweat from his forehead, feeling as though his entire body had been drained of strength; he was nearly exhausted to the point of collapse, and his steps were unsteady as he walked.

His back, in particular, could barely straighten after he had spent the entire afternoon hunched over cutting wheat.

However, there was a reward for the exhausting afternoon; the proficiency of his Scythe Skill was nearly maxed out, only a few dozen points away from leveling up.

If he did not have to rush home before sunset, Duke would have even wanted to push himself to grind out the remaining few dozen points.

With visible progress, he felt very motivated to work and had no thoughts of slacking off at all.