A group of samurai from the Kingdom, clad in leather armor, were running along the county road of the Capital Region. The leading man had feathers on his back and wore a belt with letters, a messenger from the Clouds.
Behind the messenger was a vast expanse of Milpa farmlands. In the fields, corn stalks as high as two palms, bean vines winding as thin as a thumbnail, and pumpkin leaves half a palm in size were growing. Fresh sprouts had just emerged, the rainy season had arrived, and all it required was watering once in the evening. At this time, in the morning, tens of thousands of villagers and agricultural slaves were busy in the fields. They weeded out the sprouting weeds, watered the fields with decomposed village manure, and even carefully and piously buried finely ground 'stone fertilizer.'
"May the Chief Divine protect us! May there be no pests, no harms, no floods, no disasters! May the pumpkins grow wildly, and the corn be bountiful!..."
