Happy Little Farmer
Chapter 780

Chapter 780: Chapter 780

Yang Fan lay in bed for a full four days.

During these four days, his routine was nothing more than eating with his eyes open and sleeping with his eyes closed, living a life of having food and clothes brought to him without lifting a finger.

For Yang Fan, whose life had always been busy, it was a rare forced vacation.

This was what he had once yearned for.

But for someone whose constant busyness had become a lifestyle, aside from feeling a bit relaxed and comfortable on the first day, the remaining three days were nothing but a torment of idleness, deeply uncomfortable.

Having been forced to enter society early and make a living, Yang Fan lacked the leisure hobbies that most young people his age enjoyed.

He didn’t know how to play games, got bored after watching videos for just two minutes, and couldn’t focus enough to read novels.

Lying in bed with nothing to do, he found himself checking his phone nearly eight hundred times a day, only to flip through it left and right and then shut it off again. This behavior did nothing to alleviate his boredom—in fact, it only made it worse.

Finally, once most of his injuries had healed and he could move around normally, Mr. Fan suddenly came to visit and found a small task for Yang Fan.

Looking at the seven small swords laid out on the ground, Yang Fan could only be speechless.

"Old man, your timing is just impeccable," Yang Fan said, half amused and half exasperated, to Mr. Fan, who was holding a small bottle of liquor in his hand. "If you’d given me these a little earlier, I might have had something to occupy myself with."

Mr. Fan looked at Yang Fan like he was a fool. "I waited until you could stand on your own. Then I brought these over. What’s wrong with that? If you’re resting, then rest properly—don’t do anything. Are you saying I gave them to you too late?"

"Yeah, a bit late. I was about to lose my mind with boredom over the last few days," Yang Fan said.

Mr. Fan shook his head in disbelief, "Young people are always so restless. Clearly, you’re resting, but you act like you’re imprisoned. You really don’t understand how to enjoy life."

"Maybe it’s my fate to be busy—I just can’t stand idleness," Yang Fan said, shaking his head and smiling, as he picked up one of the wooden swords lying on the ground. "Should I control them with visualization or with my mind?"

This was the task Mr. Fan had just given him.

He needed to use his mind to make these swords levitate one inch off the ground.

"What else did you think you’d use?" Mr. Fan answered. "When you can successfully control all of these swords at once, then you can start working on the next set of things. Don’t rush to practice the techniques after the Earth Mechanism—just focus on these for now."

Yang Fan nodded; the difficulty of his cultivation had clearly increased.

Using his mind to control objects—he had no idea where to start.

"Old man, why is there such a big difference in weight between these swords I carved and the one you gave me?" Yang Fan asked.

This was something he had been curious about before but had forgotten due to other matters.

Mr. Fan lowered his eyelids, speaking indifferently. "Haven’t you noticed any difference between the wooden mace I gave you and these wooden swords you carved yourself?"

"The material, the runes," Yang Fan answered. "So, is it because of the runes?"

The wooden mace Mr. Fan had given him was made from wood he had brought down from the mountains—it was far lighter than these locust wood swords.

"Hm, you’re not completely brainless," Mr. Fan said. "The things you made can barely be called toys. Aside from being harder than average wood, they’re useless. But the wooden mace is a Magic Artifact—it contains the lightning power of Thunderstruck Wood. That’s a big enough difference, isn’t it?"

"Old man, that difference—I can definitely see it. But I don’t understand why the runes increase the hardness and weight of the wooden mace," Yang Fan asked.

Even if his mind was dull, he could tell that the changes in the wooden mace were because of the runes carved on it.

Mr. Fan took a small sip of his liquor, held it in his mouth, savored it for a moment as though it were the finest delicacy, and then swallowed it. He spoke faintly, "If you wore a layer of protective armor on your body, your weight would certainly increase as well."

"Take your time practicing. From this moment, you’ve officially stepped into cultivation," Mr. Fan declared.

"Hm?" Yang Fan raised his head in surprise.

Mr. Fan clasped his right hand behind his back, leisurely preparing to leave. Yang Fan quickly asked, "Old man, so I’m only officially starting now?"

"Of course. What else did you think?" Mr. Fan chuckled and looked at Yang Fan with deep amusement in his eyes.

Yang Fan suddenly realized he’d been played by this old man all along. "Old man, you can’t just mess with people like this. Trick a young guy and you’re asking to get smacked."

"Was I tricking you? It was your own inflated confidence that made you think you were strong enough to traverse the Martial World. Yet when I told you you weren’t ready, you wouldn’t believe me!" Mr. Fan laughed. "At least you weren’t conceited enough to think you were invincible."

Yang Fan felt a bit embarrassed. "I don’t think I ever acted that over-the-top, did I?"

"Not exactly. You just thought you could handle some Evil Spirits on your own, which, in my eyes, is already saying something," Mr. Fan said. "But don’t feel awkward—I went through the same stage myself."

"Before stepping into the Martial World, every young person thinks the world isn’t that big and that they have enough confidence and ability to explore it. But once they actually enter it, they see the true Martial World. The deeper they go, the larger it becomes. The more they walk, the more treacherous it becomes, until every step feels like walking on thin ice."

For once, Mr. Fan offered Yang Fan some comforting words.

Yang Fan listened carefully, not missing a single word.

Every single word was filled with Mr. Fan’s perspective on the Martial World, drawn from his years of experience.

Each word was like a pearl of wisdom, pressing against Yang Fan’s understanding.

Yang Fan had indeed seen the Martial World as Mr. Fan described—he hadn’t thought it was that complicated.

But after going through more and more experiences, what had once seemed simple now resembled an unfathomable ocean.

This world was far more complex and strange than he had imagined.

"I’m planning to head back to Xin’an in the coming days. That Boss Chen—he’s Boss Chen, right?" Mr. Fan suddenly said.

"Yes," Yang Fan replied.

"Good, that’s right then. That thing he asked you to do, I can take care of it on my way back. I see you probably won’t have time to deal with it yourself anytime soon, so don’t keep him waiting too long," Mr. Fan said.

"In our line of work, either don’t agree to something, or if you do, you must keep it in your heart. Anyone plagued by Evil Spirits endures torment every single day. Making money is secondary—virtue comes first."

"Understood," Yang Fan responded resolutely, nodding firmly.

"Good," Mr. Fan replied faintly, then shuffled out of the room, "Take your time figuring things out."

It was rare for Mr. Fan to say something agreeable today, and to offer moral guidance as well. This left Yang Fan feeling a bit unaccustomed.

But those few words, to Yang Fan, felt like a sudden epiphany.

Many things suddenly became clear before his eyes.

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he gathered the wooden swords to one side, leaving only one in front of him, and stared at it with a calm, steady gaze.