In the Northern Province, within Nightfall Domain, Phield spent his mornings handling administrative affairs and his afternoons training his combat skills. In the blink of an eye, a month had passed.
As the wheat ripened rapidly, the fully reclaimed grand estate was dyed in a brilliant sea of gold.
The free citizen Mac stared at the wagon piled high like a small hill of wheat, feeling dizzy as if he were dreaming. He had actually managed to grow wheat in the Northern Province—and on the farmland his family had reclaimed, there was still an endless stretch of crops waiting to be harvested.
His family members held sickles, cutting down the wheat bundle by bundle and loading it onto ox carts.
"So much wheat! Wow, so much wheat—it smells amazing!"
A seven-year-old child bounced and ran in circles around the cart loaded with grain.
