Kent stared, speechless, at the wide stretch of land fenced in by wooden rails.
This was the so-called horse ranch.
The entire place covered only a few hundred acres, and it held no more than a dozen or so horses.
The ranch sat on the hillside behind the town, perhaps a few dozen miles away—but the path was narrow and winding, too rough for carts, which made bringing up supplies a real headache.
And using horses to carry them was out of the question.
A single horse cost at least a dozen gold coins, roughly the price of a dozen slaves.
Besides, commoners and slaves weren’t allowed to ride horses at all.
That morning, Captain Torry had sent two guards to bring Kent up to his new post.
A few commoners tagged along, since the supply trip doubled as a routine check of the ranch’s fences.
When the party finally reached the place on foot, Kent felt his heart sink.
He should have guessed.
If that big wooden shack could be called a castle, then a farm with a dozen horses could certainly be called a horse ranch.
One side of the ranch dropped off into a sheer cliff.
Another was bordered by a small stream.
On the third side rose a rocky peak, and atop that peak stood a small stone hut—that was where Kent would live and work from now on.
The fence ran along the stream and across the trail they had come up on; the cliff and the rocky peak needed no fence at all.
On the far side of the stream, a forest of trees several hundred feet tall stretched into the distance.
Kent was taken aback, though he’d been bracing himself for exactly this: this was another world, after all.
If it looked just like Earth, it wouldn’t be another world at all.
The only gentle approach was the path he and the others had just climbed.
Kent also got his first proper look at the horses.
They resembled Earth horses, but they were somewhat larger, and their legs bore patches of scaly plating.
Kent didn’t have the energy to puzzle over that, though.
In any case, that was just how Kent understood the word.
The creature’s name in this world meant “gentle mount.” On Earth, what else would you call it but a horse?
So in English, “horse” it was.
As for other tongues—well, let’s not nitpick.
After those dozens of miles on mountain trails, Kent was exhausted, panting like a dog.
He’d had to carry a whole sack of grain himself.
If not for the seven gleaming gold coins hidden inside—coins he’d individually wrapped in cloth and buried among the grain—he would have hurled the sack into the ravine long ago.
He’d also stashed the unreadable book in there.
The others quickly went about their business; they still had to hike back down before nightfall, and no one wanted to linger.
“The view here is beautiful,” Kent sighed, watching their figures shrink into the distance.
As for his predecessor, Hallman’s nephew, Kent never caught sight of him.
The boy was probably long gone.
Standing on the summit, Kent looked down at the town sprawled along the mountain’s gentler slope.
Beyond it, following the winding road, a city half-shrouded in mist rose into view—the closest town, Harri City.
Kent stepped into his new home and looked around.
A plank bed.
An iron pot dangling from the center of the ceiling, cold ashes piled beneath it.
A large wooden table with a few wooden bowls.
A bucket thick with dust.
It seemed Hallman’s nephew had never set foot here at all.
“If only I had a notebook,” Kent sighed as he basked lazily in the sun, stealing occasional glances at the horses grazing not far below the hill.
In truth, there wasn’t much to manage out here.
His days consisted of sunbathing, gathering supplies for winter, and idling away the hours.
It was already deep autumn; the leaves had turned yellow, and though the foliage was wildly different from anything on Earth, Kent still couldn’t get enough of the view.
At night, two enormous “moons” rose in the sky—except they weren’t moons at all, but two giant planets.
Kent could clearly make out lakes on their surfaces, like looking at Earth from a spaceship.
Then there were the trees, hundreds of meters tall, wasp-like creatures the size of fists, ant-like things as big as cats.
The list went on and on.
Kent had been on this mountain for a month now.
During that time, he’d gathered a huge pile of firewood, chopping it from distant groves and hauling it back with the horses.
For all their size, the horses were surprisingly gentle.
If Hallman ever found out Kent was using them like pack mules, the man would probably beat him to death on the spot.
Nearby, Kent had also discovered a cave several dozen meters deep.
Inside, he’d stacked plenty of wood for the winter and laid down a thick layer of grass.
“Ah…
ah…
ah…
That feels incredible.” Kent’s posture would have looked absolutely bizarre to anyone watching.
He was lying on his side atop a flat rock: right palm pressed against his left knee, left sole against his right knee, and left palm tucked into the crook of his right arm.
A tingling warmth, like a tiny ant, scurried through his body and finally pooled at the spot between his brows.
“Good thing I read so much back in the day.
I practiced this qigong for six months on Earth and never felt a thing.
Here, I’ve been at it less than a week and I’ve already got the legendary ‘qi sensation.’ But why is it all rushing to my head?
Isn’t it supposed to sink back to my dantian?” He held the pose for a full half hour, only stopping when a sharp ache ran through his meridians.
[Qigong is a traditional Chinese mind-body self-cultivation practice.
Its core principle lies in the integrated regulation of the mind, breathing, and physical posture, with the aim of promoting the circulation of “Qi” (vital energy) throughout the body, thereby strengthening physical health and preventing or treating illness.
The essence of Qigong lies in the integration of the three regulations, which can be understood as a unified self-regulation technique involving three interconnected aspects:
Regulating the Mind (Tiaoxin, consciousness):
Through eliminating distracting thoughts, focusing attention on a single point, or using visualization techniques, practitioners consciously adjust their mental state and guide the brain into a calm and orderly state of relaxation.
This is considered the most advanced stage of Qigong practice.
Regulating the Breath (Tiaoxi, breathing):
Through intentional breathing exercises, such as slow, deep, and even breathing patterns, Qigong helps stimulate internal organs, improve blood circulation, and regulate the autonomic nervous system.
Regulating the Body (Tiaoshen, posture):
By adopting specific postures or performing slow movements, such as standing, sitting, lying, or walking exercises, practitioners relax the entire body and create favorable conditions for the smooth circulation of Qi and blood.
According to different purposes, Qigong is mainly divided into medical Qigong and health-preserving Qigong.
Medical Qigong focuses on assisting in the treatment and recovery of diseases, while health-preserving Qigong emphasizes daily wellness and maintaining physical balance.
Common practices such as Baduanjin (Eight Brocades), Wuqinxi (Five-Animal Exercises), and Yijinjing (Muscle-Tendon Strengthening Exercise) all belong to the category of health-preserving Qigong.]
Truth was, Kent had been so bored out of his mind that he’d decided to test every legendary practice he could remember—meditation, qigong, the lot.
He had no idea whether this world had mages or battle aura, but that didn’t dampen his enthusiasm one bit.
If you spent your days eating and lying down, then lying down and eating again, you’d probably do the same.
Why not exercise, you ask?
Well, look—there was only so much food.
Wild fruit?
Who knew if it was poisonous?
Hunting?
Arthur was a shut-in.
The man was afraid of needles, let alone getting bitten by a rabbit.
And besides, the rabbits here were the size of dogs.
He couldn’t outfight them and he couldn’t outrun them.
So what else could he do?
Best to move as little as possible.
After his daily routine—a bit of sun, a bit of qigong, and a quick headcount of the horses—half the day was already gone.
Kent made his way down the slope to the little stream.
There were plenty of useful things here.
He’d discovered a creature that looked like a gecko, except it was entirely covered in scales.
Hard to say what it truly was.
He’d caught one, roasted it, and tested it on some insect-like critters to make sure it was safe to eat.
It wasn’t poisonous.
So he wove a crude fish trap from tough vines and set it across half the stream.
Calling it a stream was generous—it was all of two meters wide, and with winter approaching, the water barely covered his ankles.
Over the past few days, he’d caught quite a few of those creatures, dried them in the sun, and stashed them away for the months ahead.
It was odd, really.
If Kent hadn’t caught one by accident, nobody would ever have guessed such creatures lived in the stream.
He’d only ever seen them inside his fish trap, never swimming freely in the water.
Checking the trap now, he found seven or eight wriggling inside.
With practiced ease, he squeezed out their innards, threaded them onto a wooden stick, and propped the stick against the fence.
Then he climbed over and headed into the forest.
There were several plants with edible tubers growing out there, along with mushrooms.
The smallest mushrooms here were about the size of Earth’s, but the largest stood over a meter tall.
Kent was long past being surprised by such things.
He wandered around for a bit, spotted two mushrooms he’d been deliberately cultivating since his first discovery—he’d even hauled bucket after bucket of water to keep them thriving—and hoisted them onto his shoulders.
Each weighed a good twenty or thirty pounds.
He sat down by the fence, which was about three meters tall with finger-wide gaps between the rails.
Moving with practiced ease, he tied the two mushrooms to lengths of vine, climbed up the fence, hauled them over one by one, and lowered them down the other side.
Even that modest bit of exertion left him breathless.
What could he do?
The rations at the castle had been meager, and his body was weak.
But when he looked at the string of little fish—the scaly stream creatures he’d taken to calling “fish” for lack of a better word—and the washbasin-sized mushrooms beside them, he knew he’d secured another two days of food.
There was no way around it: the grain supply barely stretched as it was.
If he stayed lazy, he’d simply starve.
“Ha!
Now that’s what I call a genius.” He grinned to himself.
“If I’d known this mountain was so free and unguarded, I’d have come up here ages ago.
With all this dried food, plus the supplies they send from town, I should make it through the winter.
Though—the horses.
They’ll need hay.
Looks like I won’t be getting any rest after all.”
The truth was, over the past month Kent had only worried about filling his own belly; it hadn’t occurred to him to stock fodder for the animals.
Now, seeing the horses grazing below, the thought finally hit him.
He hastily shouldered the mushrooms, grabbed the fish, and took off running.
“Damn it!
I’ve got horses and I’m walking like an idiot!” He slapped his forehead when he got back to the hut, but the regret came too late.
In truth, he had actually learned to ride over the past month—or at least to stay on without falling off.
These horses looked tall and powerful, but they were nothing like Earth horses.
They were gentle as lambs, though that had a lot to do with the salt Kent fed them every day.
That, he had learned, was the most important duty of a horse keeper.