The dust on the road did not lie.
Lin Yan spotted it long before the cart reached the village—two steady plumes instead of one, rising and falling in rhythm. Two horses, moving together. Trained. Not rushed.
He adjusted the brim of his leather hat and stood by the pasture fence.
The cart slowed as it entered the village, wheels creaking softly. The horses were tall, lean, coats brushed clean. Not warhorses. Not farm nags.
Transport stock.
Men who owned such animals did not wander without purpose.
Three people rode the cart: a middle-aged man in neat robes, a younger assistant clutching a ledger, and a driver whose hands never loosened on the reins.
They stopped near the well.
The villagers gathered at a careful distance.
The robed man stepped down first and looked around—not at houses, but at land. At fences. At grass.
His eyes lingered on the pasture.
"You are Lin Yan," he said, voice calm, confident.
Lin Yan nodded once. "I am."
"I am Xu Wen," the man said. "Steward for Magistrate Han of the county seat."
The name settled heavily.
Officials did not come for nothing.
Xu Wen gestured toward the pasture. "We've heard of your methods."
"Hearing travels faster than understanding," Lin Yan replied.
Xu Wen smiled faintly. "So I've learned."
They walked together along the fence. Xu Wen did not step inside without permission.
Good manners.
"You restrict grazing," Xu Wen said. "Yet productivity rises."
"Yes," Lin Yan replied. "Because restriction creates recovery."
Xu Wen nodded slowly. "And people accept this?"
"They accept results," Lin Yan said.
Xu Wen paused by the bull, watching its calm posture.
"This animal could fetch a high price," he said casually.
"It could," Lin Yan agreed. "But it won't."
Xu Wen laughed quietly. "Straightforward."
They sat beneath the elm tree. Tea was brought. No one rushed.
"The magistrate is concerned," Xu Wen said finally. "Large gatherings. Talk of contests. Horses."
"Concerned about disorder?" Lin Yan asked.
"Concerned about accidents," Xu Wen corrected.
Lin Yan nodded. "So am I."
That answer surprised him.
"I intend to demonstrate," Lin Yan continued. "Not allow chaos."
Xu Wen raised an eyebrow. "Demonstrate what?"
Lin Yan stood.
He whistled softly.
The leased horse lifted its head immediately and walked over, stopping a step away. No rope. No command beyond the sound.
A ripple passed through the villagers.
Lin Yan walked forward.
The horse followed.
He stopped.
The horse stopped.
"Control without fear," Lin Yan said. "This is what I teach."
Xu Wen leaned forward, interest sharpening.
"And contests?" he asked.
"Rules first," Lin Yan replied. "Handlers trained. No sharp tools. No betting."
Xu Wen chuckled. "You remove all the fun."
"I remove blood," Lin Yan said. "Fun survives."
They spoke until the sun dipped lower.
Xu Wen finally stood. "The magistrate will observe," he said. "Not interfere. For now."
"That's acceptable," Lin Yan replied.
As the cart prepared to leave, Xu Wen paused.
"One more thing," he said. "You're changing habits beyond your land."
Lin Yan met his gaze. "Habits change whether we guide them or not."
Xu Wen smiled thinly. "True."
The cart rolled away.
Silence followed.
Old Chen exhaled loudly. "You just spoke to the county through grass and hooves."
Lin Yan smiled faintly. "They listened."
That evening, the family ate together.
No pork tonight.
No disappointment either.
Food had become routine—like work.
The youngest brother practiced characters by lamplight. Lin Yan corrected him gently.
Outside, the horse lay calmly, unbothered by the day's tension.
The system interface appeared, heavier than usual.
[Official Attention: Detected]
[Demonstration Event Available]
[Risk: Visibility Increased]
Lin Yan closed it.
Visibility was dangerous.
But invisibility meant stagnation.
He looked out toward the pasture, where grass rippled evenly, no bare patches, no waste.
He had been careful.
Now he would have to be deliberate