Chapter 54 — Gardening and MeditationThe work of rebuilding ended where all good work should end—
at the soil.
The Gardening RitualAs the sun dipped toward the western ridge, Luke carried a wooden hoe to the small plot behind his new home. This hour, the villagers had learned, belonged only to him. No visitors. No requests. No quiet watching from a distance.
This was ritual.
He knelt and graded his own garden the same way he had graded the mountain slopes—carefully shaping the land so water would linger where roots needed it and leave where rot would follow. Each line in the soil was straight, but not rigid. Each curve served a purpose.
From a cloth pouch, he removed seeds and cuttings that did not exist in any village ledger:
Snow-vein ginseng, learned from a frozen dynasty world
Fireleaf basil, used in healing broths in a war-torn empire
Moon-shadow mint, prized for calming the spirit and steadying breath
He planted them without ceremony, spacing them with the quiet confidence of someone who had watched civilizations rise and fall but still respected the patience of a seed.
The soil accepted them.
The garden did not glow.
The air did not change.
Yet something settled.
The Choice MeditationWhen the light thinned into gold, Luke washed his hands in a clay basin and sat on the wooden step of his home.
His palms were rough now.
Calloused from timber, stone, soil, and rope.
Not the hands of a scholar.
Not the hands of a king.
And yet—
they had signed death warrants in other worlds,
moved billions with a single decision,
altered the fate of entire bloodlines.
He turned them over slowly.
"Villager," he said softly.
"Traveler."
Both were true.
The System remained silent, as it always did unless summoned. Infinite worlds waited beyond it—tragic heroes, broken villains, empires on the brink. Infinite power, measured and purchased, stored and spent.
And here?
A garden.
A village.
A quiet that did not ask for sacrifice.
Luke closed his eyes and breathed in time with the mountain.
Is this enough?
Or is peace just another illusion… one I can afford because I have power?
No answer came.
Only the sound of wind through leaves and the distant laughter of children finishing their games.
At last, Luke stood.
He did not choose.
Not yet.
He simply returned the cloth pouch to its shelf, watered the soil once more, and extinguished the lantern as darkness claimed Wo Long.
For now, the garden would grow.
And the System—
would wait.