After plowing the last patch of land, Fang Yun collapsed at the edge of the field, his body utterly drained of strength, while images kept appearing in his mind, subjecting him to endless torment.
At first, Fang Yun had still reacted with anger, pain, despair, and more, but now his expression no longer changed at all.
Not only had his body gone numb, but his mind had sunk into numbness as well.
The aura of death glimmered in Fang Yun's eyes.
After an unknown stretch of time, Fang Yun rose, aching all over, his entire body feeling as though it were inside a furnace.
Fang Yun looked up at the sky. The sun still hung directly overhead, still radiating its scorching light.
"This body..."
Fang Yun examined himself. Sweat, blood, and dirt had mixed together into a layer caked over his clothes. His body was filthy beyond recognition.
Fang Yun struggled to stand. Every part of his body was in excruciating pain, yet he betrayed not the slightest sign of suffering. His face was resolute, as though even ten thousand arrows piercing his heart could not stir his emotions.
Even now, those images continued flashing through Fang Yun's mind, but despite having no literary guts, he still held an unshakable goal in his heart.
Follow the example of the ancient sage Shun, till the fields with my own hands, and complete this trial!
It was as though those bloody, brutal images had honed this thought into an indestructible sword, pointing the way for Fang Yun and cutting through thorns and brambles.
"After plowing comes sowing."
Dragging his exhausted body along, Fang Yun staggered with every step as he slowly approached the little hut beside the fields.
Before long, Fang Yun emerged from the hut carrying a sack of wheat seeds