The knowledge from the 'Pasture Management' module unfolded in Lin Yan's mind like a meticulously drawn map. The three mu of verdant grass were no longer just a pleasing green expanse; they were a factory floor, a solar-powered engine of growth that needed precise management. He saw it in layers: the root depth binding the soil, the nitrogen fixed by the clover they'd unconsciously encouraged, the way the hardy grass shaded the earth, preserving moisture.
The mission now was 'The First Harvest.' Real income, beyond the steady drip of egg-copper. The answer lay in the remaining uncut hay from the two newer mu, and in the growing reputation of "Lin Ranch Hay."
Merchant Huang's interest was the key. But Lin Yan knew they couldn't just sell raw grass. They had to sell a story, a guarantee. The story was health and stamina. The guarantee was consistency.
"We need to brand it," he told Lin Zhu as they inspected the standing hay, its seed heads nodding in the late summer breeze. "Literally."
Using Lin Zhu's woodworking skill, they carved a simple brand—a stylized combination of a mountain peak (for their location) and a stalk of grass. They heated an iron rod in the forge of the village blacksmith, a man who had begun treating them with wary respect since the cart build. The branding iron was crude but effective.
The day of the first major hay sale was an operation. The entire family mobilized. Lin Tie, his strength now augmented by the clever cart, mowed the swathes with a rhythmic, powerful swing. Lin Yan and Lin Zhu followed, turning the hay with wooden rakes to ensure even drying. The women and Lin Xiao formed a bundling line, tying the sun-cured grass into tight, uniform bales with braided willow withes. Finally, Lin Yan applied the brand to one side of each bale—a faint, smoky "LR" beside the mountain-grass symbol.
It was hot, itchy, exhausting work. Hay dust coated their skin and filled the air with a sweet, pungent scent. But there was a unity to it, a shared purpose that transformed labor into ceremony. Lin Xiaolian started a rhythmic work song, a simple tune about cutting and binding, and soon they were all singing, their voices rising above the field in ragged harmony. Even Founder, watching from his shaded corner of the pasture, seemed to low in time.
They loaded fifty branded bales onto the cart. It was a king's ransom of fodder. The next morning, Lin Yan, Lin Tie, and Lin Zhu set out for Yellow Creek, the cart groaning under its fragrant load.
The arrival of the "Lin Ranch" hay at Merchant Huang's warehouse caused a minor stir. Huang himself came out to inspect. He examined a bale, noting the tightness of the bind, the leaf-to-stem ratio, the clean, branded mark. He crumbled some in his hand and smelled it.
"Consistent," he grunted. "That's worth something. The courier station master complains about the wild hay—dusty, moldy, inconsistent. His horses cough." He named a price per bale that was twenty percent above the going rate for bulk wild hay.
Lin Yan had done his homework with his market knowledge. He countered, not on price, but on terms. "For that price, Merchant Huang, we would be happy to guarantee a supply of fifty bales every five weeks until the first snow, all of this quality. A standing contract. It allows you to promise your client consistency."
Huang's eyes narrowed, calculating. A reliable supply of premium fodder let him lock in a lucrative contract with the courier station. He raised the price another five percent and agreed to the standing order. The deal was struck.
The silver and copper that changed hands was more than the egg money. It was substantial, transformative capital. As they left the warehouse, the now-empty cart felt lighter than air.
But the world outside their green pasture was not static. As they navigated the crowded streets towards the gate, they passed a public notice board outside the magistrate's office. A new proclamation, stamped with an official seal, was freshly posted.
Lin Zhu, who had the best literacy among them, slowed to read it. His face grew serious. "Listen to this: 'By order of the County Magistrate, in support of the Imperial Northern Garrison, a special supplemental levy is hereby assessed for the autumn tax period. Each household shall contribute one additional silver fen, or its equivalent in grain or salt, to be collected concurrently with the standard autumn tax. This is for the glorious support of our frontier defenders.'"
An extra fen. The news was a physical blow. Their hay sale profit, which had felt so vast a moment ago, suddenly shrunk. The tax cliff had just grown steeper.
"They see the province doing well, so they reach deeper," Lin Tie muttered, a rare anger in his voice.
On the long walk home, the brothers were silent, the joy of the sale tempered by the new demand. The imperial machinery was insatiable. As soon as you built something, it found a way to tax it.
They arrived home as the sun was setting. The family gathered, eager to celebrate the sale. The celebration died when they saw the brothers' faces. Lin Yan explained the supplemental levy.
The room deflated. Wang Shi's hands, which had been ready to clap, fell to her lap. Lin Dahu's shoulders, which had straightened these past weeks, slumped again.
"It is always thus," he said, his voice weary. "The ladder is always kicked away just as you get a handhold."
But Lin Yan was looking at the system screen in his mind. The 'First Harvest' mission had completed with the hay sale.
[Mission Complete: 'The First Harvest.']
[Reward: 150 Points. 'Basic Animal Breeding Principles' Module (Integrated).]
[New Mission Unlocked: 'Breeding Stock.' Acquire first female bovine(s) to establish breeding herd.]
The reward points were significant. And the new knowledge… it was about genetics, about selecting for traits, about the future. The imperial levy was a demand for silver now. But the system was guiding him to build generational wealth, a self-replenishing well of value that could withstand such demands.
He stood up, drawing all eyes. "The levy is a stone in our path," he said, his voice cutting through the gloom. "But we have just sold fifty bales of grass for a premium. We have a contract for fifty more every five weeks. We have a bull who will one day sire calves worth more than hay. We are not at the bottom of the ladder anymore. We are on it." He looked at his father. "We pay the extra fen. It hurts, but we pay it. And then we use what's left to buy heifers. We turn one bull into a herd. A herd pays taxes easier than a man's back ever could."
It was a declaration of defiance through growth. Not to fight the empire, but to outgrow its capacity to crush them.
The family absorbed this. Lin Zhu nodded slowly. "The hay money, after the extra tax… it might be enough for one young heifer, if we find a good price."
"Then we find it," Lin Yan said. "We have the hay to feed her. We have the pasture. We have the knowledge." He tapped his temple, where the new breeding principles were settling. "We don't just survive the tax. We use it as fuel."
The next morning, the mood was determined, not defeated. They had faced a blow, but they were still standing, and they had a plan. Lin Yan went to the pasture with Founder's morning grain. The young bull ambled over, now more companion than cautious investment. Lin Yan scratched his forehead.
"You're going to need some ladies, my friend," he murmured. "And we're going to need your children."
He spent the day studying the new breeding module. It was complex, but one principle stood out: Genetic Diversity & Foundation Females. The quality of the herd would be defined as much by the mothers as by Founder. They couldn't afford the best, but they could look for soundness, good temperament, and maternal instincts.
A few days later, an opportunity arose, again through the network their reputation was building. A farmer from three villages over, an acquaintance of the blacksmith, arrived at their gate. He had a pair of two-year-old heifers. They were from a common draft line, not specialized, but they were healthy, halter-broken, and one had already shown a calm, nurturing nature with younger calves in his mixed herd. He needed quick silver—his own tax burden was crushing him.
Lin Yan and Lin Tie went to see them. The heifers were plain brown creatures, sturdy but unremarkable. Yet, to Lin Yan's newly trained eye, they had straight backs, good feet, and clear eyes. The system gave a neutral assessment: Adequate Genetic Stock. No major defects. Good foundation for a commercial herd.
They negotiated hard, using a combination of their remaining hay-sale silver and a promise of three future bales of "LR" branded hay. The deal was struck. The Lin Ranch doubled its bovine population in one afternoon.
Leading the two hesitant heifers home was a different experience from bringing Founder. These were older, more settled animals. They moved with a placid, rhythmic gait. When they were turned into the pasture, Founder stared, frozen for a moment. Then he let out a deep, resonant bellow that echoed off the hills—a king claiming his domain.
The heifers ignored him and began to graze.
[Mission Progress: 'Breeding Stock.' 2/2 Female Bovines acquired.]
[Herd Established: 1 Bull, 2 Heifers. Social dynamics initializing.]
[Points Awarded for Strategic Herd Expansion: +30.]
That evening, the family watched the three cattle grazing together as the sun set. The two new heifers, yet unnamed, moved slowly through the grass. Founder followed them at a respectful distance, his adolescent bravado tempered by a new, weighty responsibility.
"We'll call the calm one 'Maple,'" Wang Shi suggested, looking at the reddish tones in her brown coat. "The other… 'Breeze.' For the way she moves."
The names stuck. The herd had identities now.
The imperial levy still loomed, a silver fen of shadow. But as Lin Yan looked at his family, then at the pasture now holding three cattle, at the stacked, branded hay in the shed, he felt not fear, but a steady, resilient pulse.
They had harvested their first real crop. They had paid a new tax with the proceeds. And they had plowed the remainder back into the land, in the form of two slow-chewing, grass-converting, future-bearing engines of survival.
The empire demanded its pound of flesh. The Lin Ranch would respond by growing more flesh, more bone, more life. The first harvest was in. The sowing for the next, greater one, had already begun.