The morning sun had barely climbed into the sky, casting a warm glow over the terraced hills of Suka Makmur Village. Upon the marginal plot of land that had once been barren and choked with hardpan rock, lush rows of shallots now thrived, their deep green leaves glittering beneath the morning dew. The crisp aroma of organic freshness drifted through the air, creating a striking contrast against the arid environment surrounding them.

Danu crouched down to check the soil moisture when the harsh roar of an off-road motorcycle engine cutting out abruptly at the foot of the cliffside path caught his attention.

Brrrrrt... Bruum!

Danu raised his head. Three shadowy figures were hiking up the slope with heavy, arrogant strides. Leading the pack, Pak Darma puffed heavily from the climb, clad in a tight batik shirt drenched in sweat, flanked on either side by two massive, muscular enforcers with their arms crossed.

Spotting the loan shark's sudden morning arrival, Danu slowly rose to his feet. He brushed the dirt from his palms, then fixed a cold, unblinking stare upon Pak Darma without a single trace of fear.

Pak Darma halted a few paces from the edge of the shallot bed. The middle-aged man adorned in a heavy gold chain gasped for breath, but the moment his eyes caught the sea of vibrant green before him, his respiration stalled entirely.

Pak Darma’s eyes bulged wide, staring in sheer disbelief at Danu’s shallot crops, which grew so luxuriantly, thick, and healthy upon dead rock ground that should have been utterly lifeless.

"What... what is the meaning of this?!" Pak Darma shrieked in a high-pitched voice, jabbing a trembling index finger toward the shallot beds. "Shallots?! Thriving and green on this cursed rock pile?! How is that even possible?!"

Danu offered a cold, faint smile, crossing his arms over his chest. "Good morning, Pak Darma. What an absolute surprise that the boss deigned to visit this wasteland for fools. To what do we owe the pleasure of polluting the fresh air up here?"

Pak Darma ignored Danu's jab. He stalked forward to the edge of the bed, brushing off a warning gesture from his enforcer, and dropped to a squat to touch the crumbly, rich earth while inhaling the sharp, potent scent of onion greens. His greedy face twisted drastically, his eyes gleaming with a starving hunger for wealth.

"Incredible... they're only a few weeks old, yet the stalks are already this thick!" Pak Darma growled in lustful admiration, before snapping his head up to glare at Danu. "Hey, you little rat! What kind of black magic did you use to turn dead earth into this?! What fertilizers are you running?!"

Danu let out a brief, cold chuckle that grated on Pak Darma's nerves. "Black magic? This isn't black magic, Pak Darma. This is the fruit of hard work and genuine care for the land—something a man who only knows how to bleed other people dry could never possibly understand."

Pak Darma’s face flushed a violent crimson at the stinging retort. He surged angrily to his feet, glaring at Danu with a deep, venomous well of hatred and cunning.

"Insolent brat! You dare speak to me with such sarcasm, huh?!" Pak Darma roared, his eyes blazing. "You think just because your cheap crop sprouted green, you can strut around like you own the world?!"

One of the enforcers behind Pak Darma stepped forward threateningly, puffing out his chest toward Danu. "Hey, punk! Watch your mouth in front of Boss Darma! Want us to teach you some manners right here and now?"

Danu stepped forward without flinching an inch, locking eyes with the bulky enforcer so intensely that the muscle-bound thug instinctively swallowed hard.

"Be my guest, if you dare lay a finger on these crops or myself," Danu said, his voice low yet dropping to an absolute, glacial chill. "Just remember: before the laws of nature, whoever sows the wind reaps the whirlwind."

Pak Darma raised his right hand, signaling his man to stand down. He snorted harshly, flashing a sly grin as he straightened his sweat-stained batik shirt. His predatory loan-shark instincts immediately smelled the potential for astronomical profits sitting across that super-shallot expanse.

"Listen to me, Danu," Pak Darma purred, forcing a composed, cunning tone. "Do you honestly think this marginal cliffside plot legally belongs to you in full, huh?"

Danu narrowed his eyes. "What are you getting at?"

Pak Darma let out a small laugh, crossing his arms mockingly. "Administerially speaking under village law, this hillside cliff still falls within the communal reserve land managed under my authority as a village elder and economic power broker!"

"Don't talk utter garbage," Danu retorted firmly. "I paid my lease fair and square to the legitimate owner, Pak Madi, at the market rate for dead land!"

"Pak Madi is senile! That land doesn't belong to him outright!" Pak Darma snapped back, cutting Danu off sharply. He paced back and forth along the edge of the bed, jabbing a finger at the shallots. "Besides, your initial lease agreement was drawn up when this plot was nothing more than worthless barren rock! But now? Look at the proof!"

Pak Darma spun around to face Danu, flashing a thoroughly repulsive, demonic grin. "This land suddenly transformed into freakishly fertile ground, yielding high-value commodities thanks to... well, let's just call it the blessed ecosystem managed by our village administration!"

Danu snorted cynically, his eyes narrowing to sharp slits. "So now that you see the crops thriving, you want to hijack it with some stupid administrative excuse?"

"Not hijack it, young man! I'm a fair businessman!" Pak Darma argued with a shamelessly righteous expression, holding up three fingers. "Starting today, because the status of this land has upgraded to a high-class productive plot, I unilaterally decree that the lease price for this marginal land is raised threefold!"

Hearing that absurdly extortionate figure, Danu raised an eyebrow. "Threefold?"

"That's right! Three times yesterday's price!" Pak Darma crowed triumphantly, convinced he had driven Danu into a tight corner. "Fertile land like this has no business being farmed by a beggar like you on the cheap!"

Danu fell silent for a moment. Deep within his mind, the system interface pulsed quietly while a gentle mechanical voice hummed a warning: (Detecting illegal local-power-based extortion. Indication of forced asset seizure intent.)

Seeing Danu stand motionless, Pak Darma assumed the boy had panicked and surrendered. He let out a loud laugh, feeling completely invincible.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Pak Darma mocked, leaning his face in close to Danu. "You don't have that kind of cash to pay a triple lease hike upfront, do you? Your mother's meager savings that you blew through yesterday wouldn't even cover a quarter of this new rate!"

Pak Slamet—who had quietly trudged up the slope out of sheer anxiety and just arrived at the path's edge—overheard the exchange and felt his strength drain instantly. He dropped to his knees in the dirt, turning pale as he sobbed in total despair.

"Dear God... three times over..." Pak Slamet trembled, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Where on earth are we supposed to find that much money, Boss... have mercy on us..."

Pak Darma's two enforcers cackled loudly at Pak Slamet's misery, while Pak Darma gloated over father and son with absolute, undisputed triumph.

Pak Darma stalked closer to Danu, giving the young man's shoulder a rough, patronizing pat before whispering his final ultimatum directly into his face.

"Listen closely to my terms, Danu," Pak Darma hissed, dripping with venomous threat.

Danu stood tall, unyielding, staring straight into Pak Darma's eyes without an ounce of terror.

Pak Darma grinned widely, dropping the lethal cliffhanger that capped off their morning meeting:

"If you can pay that tripled new lease in cash next week, feel free to keep farming! But if you can't..."

Pak Darma pointed a sharp finger across the sprawling, lush shallot beds before them.

"...Then I am going to forcibly confiscate your entire shallot harvest to settle your old man's debts in full! And that rundown shack of yours becomes my legal property that very same day. Understand, you little fool?"

With that brazen extortion delivered, Pak Darma burst into a victorious laugh, spinning on his heel to stomp back down the cliffside slope with his enforcers, kicking up morning dust and leaving Pak Slamet broken and weeping in the dirt.

Yet amid the swirling dust and his father's whimpers, Danu slowly lifted his face. The corners of his mouth twitched upward into a terrifyingly cold smile.

In the corner of his vision, the system interface flared to life, flashing golden text: (Warning: Host absolute ownership rights over harvest protected by System Sovereignty Protocol. Challenge accepted.)