The night on Servant Peak was not quiet. The low roars of spirit beasts echoed from the distance, adding to the tension.
Chen Ping kept his body as low as possible. He used the ridges of the fields and weeds for cover, moving like a wary wildcat.
Familiar with the route, he avoided several muddy depressions, his movements noticeably more skilled than during his last seed theft.
Soon, he saw the solitary wooden shed standing by the field ridge.
The shed was dark and silent inside.
He lay prone in a shallow ditch about a dozen steps away, his face pressed against the cold earth. Motionless, he listened intently.
Apart from the wind and distant beast roars, there was only the drum-like pounding of his own heart.
He waited for about as long as it took an incense stick to burn, making sure there was no movement nearby.
He couldn’t wait any longer.
Chen Ping slithered along the ground like a snake, quickly reaching the shed’s entrance.
Reaching out, he gently touched the wooden bar securing the door.
It was loose.
Carefully, he slid the bar out, making almost no sound. Then, he gently pushed the door open a crack.
A smell of rust, wood, and damp earth wafted out.
Inside the shed, it was pitch black. By the faintest sliver of moonlight, he could make out piles of tools: hoes, shovels, rakes.
Against the wall, he could vaguely discern the outlines of several Sickles and a waist-high wooden frame with a crank handle—that must be the Thresher!
In a corner, there seemed to be larger items piled up, like Winnower blades and parts of a Millstone.
Chen Ping’s heart leaped into his throat.
He needed a sickle and the Thresher.
He slipped inside and pushed the door almost closed behind him. It was completely dark; he had to feel his way around.
He first felt along the wall until his hands found the hanging Sickles. They were cold and heavy to the touch, their edges seeming to gleam faintly in the darkness.
He grabbed one Sickle by its wooden handle, gripping it tightly.
Then, his gaze turned to that waist-high Thresher.
It was very heavy. He tried to lift it; it didn’t budge an inch.
How to get it inside? Try touching it with his hand?
Gritting his teeth, Chen Ping leaned his body against it. With one hand, he desperately grabbed an edge of the Thresher’s wooden frame; in his other hand, he still tightly clutched that Sickle.
He closed his eyes, concentrating all his mental energy to connect with the Jade Pendant on his chest.
With a thought.
HUM!
A familiar wave of dizziness struck him violently!
It was far more intense than usual. His head felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer. His vision went dark, and his temples throbbed painfully.
Just as he felt he might pass out from this excruciating pain and tearing sensation—his feet found solid ground!
He sprawled onto the cold Black Earth. The fall made stars burst before his eyes. His head throbbed with splitting pain, and his stomach churned violently—he almost vomited.
Lying face down on the ground, he gasped for breath. It took quite a while for that severe dizziness and headache to recede slightly.
Struggling to lift his head…
Before him was the familiar Black Earth; above him was that constant faint light.
And beside him lay a Sickle stained with dirt and that waist-high, heavy wooden Thresher!
Success! He really brought them in!
Wild elation instantly overwhelmed the physical pain.
Struggling to sit up, ignoring his still-throbbing head, he reached out to touch the cold Sickle blade and the rough wooden frame of the Thresher.
They felt real beneath his fingers.
He had really stolen them!
Although the process was agonizing and his head hurt terribly, these tools were now physically present in his space.
Looking at these two tools, then at those Spirit Rice seedlings in the distance already waist-high… He grinned silently.
He had a Sickle. He had a Thresher.
Still needed: a Winnower and a Millstone.
Summoning all his strength to stand up, he moved the Sickle and Thresher to a corner far from the seedling beds and set them down.
Not daring to delay further, he exited the space.
Back on his straw bedding in the shack, Chen Ping felt as though his body had fallen apart. His head threatened to split with pain, worse than after his first long stay in the space.
It seemed bringing things in—especially large items—placed an immense burden on his mind.
Curling up, he endured the headache and bodily exhaustion. It took a long time before he finally drifted into a fitful sleep.
The next day while working, Chen Ping was listless, moving slower than usual. This earned him several lashes from the Foreman’s whip.
But inwardly, he felt exceptionally settled.
The following day…
He needed to steal the remaining Winnower and Millstone parts.
The Winnower blades and Millstone discs were piled separately in the tool shed. They were bulky and very heavy.
Late at night, Chen Ping acted again.
This time, he would take a Winnower blade and the upper Millstone disc. The lower disc was a fixed stone platform, too heavy for him. He left that part alone, intending to build a base from Black Earth inside the space.
The same deep night. The same route.
He infiltrated the tool shed once more.
This time he moved with clear purpose, heading straight for that corner.
This grinding disc was made of bluish stone, circular with a hole in its center and grooves along its edge. It felt icy cold and impossibly heavy.
Chen Ping took a deep breath, mustering all his strength just to barely lift one edge.
He couldn’t hold it like he did with the blade. Instead, he had to bend over, using his body to prop against one side of the disc while wrapping both arms tightly around it, pressing his cheek against the cold stone surface.
The wooden blade was still tucked under his arm.
An extremely awkward posture; the weight pressing down made breathing difficult.
Not daring to delay further… he immediately connected with the Jade Pendant.
HUM!!
This time the dizziness and tearing sensation were ten times more violent than when stealing the Thresher!
It felt like a red-hot knife wildly churning inside his skull.
His vision instantly plunged into total darkness. His ears filled with ringing—he couldn’t hear anything.
It felt like every bone in his body was about to be crushed. His soul seemed ripped into two halves.
“Ughhh…”
A tightly stifled groan escaped his throat. He felt as though an invisible giant hand had slammed him to the ground.
Thud!
He crashed heavily onto the Black Earth, his body curled into a ball.
The pounding headache blurred his consciousness. Nausea surged up, and he began to dry-heave uncontrollably, though nothing came out.
Sweat instantly soaked his clothes. His body trembled violently.
He clutched his head, the world spinning around him, feeling he might black out at any moment.
He didn’t know how much time passed. Maybe just a moment. Maybe a long time.
That maddening agony finally receded like a tide, leaving behind waves of severe throbbing pain and intense weakness.
Chen Ping sprawled on the ground, drenched in sweat, without even the strength to move a single finger.
He struggled to open his eyes. His vision blurred for a good while before focusing.
Before him lay the familiar Black Earth.
Beside him lay the enormous Winnower blade and the heavy disc of blue stone.
He had brought them in!
It had nearly killed him.
He lay on the cool ground, gasping for breath. Every breath tugged at his still-aching head.
He reached out a trembling hand and touched the cold, hard grinding disc beside him.
Worth it!
He twisted his lips, trying to smile, but the movement worsened his headache.
Enduring the intense pain, Chen Ping exited the Black Earth and returned to his own Shack, collapsing unconscious.