The wave of hatred and mockery from the crowd at the village hall still echoed in Danu's mind. Not a single person had offered a word of warning; instead, they had chosen to laugh at the truth he brought. All the way back to their rundown shack, Danu realized an absolute truth: expecting enlightenment from people blinded by greed was a total waste of time.

As evening bled into night, while his father rested to fight off a worsening cough, Danu sat cross-legged beside his late mother's old wooden cabinet. He felt along the loose bottom wooden planks where his mother, during her life, used to stash small sums of hidden savings earned from washing clothes door-to-door.

His fingers brushed against a faded cloth bundle tied with raffia string. When he unwrapped it, inside lay several crumpled, small-denomination banknotes—the fruit of his mother's sweat, saved over many years for emergencies.

"Mom..." Danu whispered softly, his eyes welling with tears as he gazed down at the bundle. "Forgive me for spending your last savings. But I promise this money won't go to waste. I'll use it to forge a way out for our family."

Gripping the money tightly, Danu stood up with ironclad resolve. That very night, he slipped out of the house without waking his father, heading toward the edge of the village bluff where Pak Madi lived—an elderly resident who owned a strip of marginal land considered the absolute worst in Suka Makmur.

That plot sat right along a rocky hillside slope, covered in coarse sand, sharp gravel, and dead clay completely untouched by the village irrigation canals. Not a single sane farmer would ever rent that land, because anything planted there was guaranteed to wither and die from drought within days.

The nighttime atmosphere at the bluff's edge felt chillingly silent. A fierce wind whistled through the wild brush. Danu stood before Pak Madi's dilapidated wooden door, then knocked gently.

Tap... tap... tap...

Moments later, the door creaked open. Pak Madi—a roughly sixty-year-old man with a hunched back and a deeply wrinkled face—appeared holding a small oil lamp. He squinted at Danu, his brow furrowed in utter bewilderment.

"Eh? Danu? Slamet the farmhand's boy?" Pak Madi rasped, lifting his lamp to illuminate Danu's face. "What are you doing out here in the middle of the night, kid? Coming out to this old shack on the edge of the ravine... what could you possibly want?"

Drawing a deep breath, Danu offered a slight, respectful bow. "Good evening, Pak Madi. I'm sorry to disturb your rest. I came here with good intentions... I want to rent your rocky hillside plot."

Pak Madi froze for a second. He blinked rapidly, assuming his hearing had failed him. Then, a dry, raspy laugh burst from the old man's mouth.

"Hahaha! Rent my land? That useless patch of rocks?!" Pak Madi shook his head in disbelief. "Danu, have you lost your mind? Everyone in the village knows that's dead dirt! Even cassava stalks rot the moment they hit that hardpan. Why on earth would you throw your money away on a cursed piece of ground?"

"I know the land is barren, Pak Madi," Danu answered calmly yet firmly. "But I need a patch of land to try my own luck. How much is the rent for a single harvest season? This is all the savings I have."

Danu extended the faded cloth bundle containing his mother's savings toward Pak Madi. The old man glanced down at the parcel, then stared hard into Danu's eyes, searching for any sign of deceit or suicidal desperation behind the young man's gaze.

"Are you serious, boy? For a farmhand's son, that's a lot of money," Pak Madi said, his tone softening with genuine concern. "If your crops fail completely and your money is gone, you won't get a refund. I won't have people saying I cheated a kid."

"I know the risks, Pak Madi. Please accept this money, and let me work that land starting tonight," Danu pleaded with absolute conviction.

Pak Madi let out a long sigh, then offered a faint, bemused smile. He accepted the cloth bundle, felt its weight, and waved a hand dismissively.

"Hah... suit yourself, kid. If you want to throw your money away on the rocks of this cliffside, go right ahead. Consider it selling dead dirt to a daydreamer in broad daylight," Pak Madi chuckled softly before pushing his wooden door shut.

Danu didn't care about the dismissive remark. He spun on his heel, walking down the steep slope toward the marginal plot that was now officially his for the season.

Arriving at the center of the pitch-black, rocky expanse, Danu laid his rusted hoe on the ground. He stood alone beneath the dim crescent moon partially veiled by thin clouds. The night wind whipped hard, tossing the locks of hair across his forehead.

"All right..." Danu whispered softly to the night wind. "Now I'm all alone in this dead earth. Let's see what this system can really do."

Instantly, as his fierce resolve solidified, the empty air before his eyes rippled violently. A translucent bluish holographic screen flared to life automatically without a summon, casting a gentle light that pierced the darkness of the cliffside night.

The crisp, calm mechanical voice of the system echoed clearly inside his skull.

(Detecting new operational location: Cliffside Marginal Soil Sector. Area: 0.25 Hectares. Initial Fertility Indicator: 0.5%.)

(Warning: Extreme soil conditions. Advanced [Emergency Soil Restoration Protocol] activation required before planting commences.)

Danu stared at the display, holding his breath. He gripped the handle of his hoe tightly, feeling a warm pulse of energy radiating upward from the ground through the soles of his boots—the exact same sensation as last night when the system first awakened.

"I'm ready," Danu declared aloud to the system in his mind. "What's my first step to transform this cursed dirt?"

(Command received, Host Danu, the system replied firmly. (Take your hoe, drive it into the central coordinate point marked by the blue light on the ground, and let the system synchronize regenerative energy through your labor.)

Instantly, upon the dark, rocky surface right before Danu's boots, a small, softly pulsing golden ring of light materialized, pinpointing the exact spot where he needed to begin.

Danu drew a deep breath. He hoisted his rusted hoe high into the air, summoned every ounce of strength left in his arms, and drove it down with all his might into the glowing coordinate!

CRASH!

The sharp ring of iron striking bedrock echoed loudly through the silent cliffside night. A burst of tiny sparks flew from the friction of metal hitting hard stone.

At that exact moment—the second Danu's hoe bit into the earth—the holographic screen before his eyes flashed with a blinding, dazzling light, and a massive text notification erupted in brilliant golden pulses:

[PRIMARY HOST STRIKE SUCCESSFUL!]

Marginal soil coordinates locked. Soil energy synchronization initiated...

Crop Compatibility Analysis... Complete.

Location verified as highly suitable for Super High-Quality Shallot varieties.

Total soil recovery and restoration protocol commences tonight!