The Strongest Farmer

005 The Mountain Spirit

Jaka took a deep breath.

The frigid air atop Mount Sumbing pierced his lungs, carrying the scent of damp earth, wild grass, and the thin mist still clinging to the rocks. A gentle night breeze rustled the edge of the tent behind him.

Before him, the old man stood in complete ease.

Wrinkled face, simple clothes, a frail frame that looked like it could be toppled by a mere shove. But Jaka wasn't stupid. From the moment he laid eyes on him, he knew this old man was no ordinary being.

There was something fundamentally bizarre about him.

It wasn't just his sudden appearance at the mountain peak, nor his unnervingly placid smile. It was the way his very presence seemed fused with the environment itself.

As if the mountain, the wind, the mist, the rocks, the trees, even the ground beneath his feet, were completely under his domain.

Jaka steadied his breathing, tracking the old man's every micro-movement. His fists slowly clenched, not out of malice, but because his survival instincts were screaming at him to stay on guard.

"You're the guardian of this mountain? The one who called me here?" Jaka asked, his voice low. His gaze sharpened. "Why? I don't have time to deal with mystical nonsense like you."

The old man paused.

Then, a light chuckle broke through the night wind.

"Hahaha. So impatient. Are all kids your age like this?"

Jaka shrugged, feigning indifference despite the questions swarming in his head.

"I don't know about other guys," he replied. "But after everything I've been through, this is just how I am."

The words sounded simple, but a heavy burden lay concealed beneath them.

In his mind's eye, flashes of his recent life resurfaced. Losing his job. Coming home empty-handed. Seeing his father's face, trying to stay strong even as age and exhaustion etched deeper into his features. The rice fields waiting to be tilled. The long, grueling days under the scorching sun. The humiliation, the disappointment, the anger, and the resignation, all bleeding into one.

He was no longer a naive kid who could just laugh life off.

After hitting rock bottom, Jaka had learned the hard way that the world didn't give a damn about anyone's complaints.

That was exactly why he had no patience for small talk.

The old man studied him for a moment, then offered an amused smile, as if Jaka's reaction was highly entertaining.

Jaka's eyebrow twitched.

Honestly, he was offended. Here he was, dead serious, and this old geezer looked like he was watching a comedy show.

Regardless of who or what this guy was, Jaka really wanted to punch him.

Just one swing.

Just enough to wipe that irritating smirk off his face.

But before he could act on the urge, the old man burst into roaring laughter.

"Hahaha! You brazen brat. If you actually dared to punch me, your family would lose their livelihood."

Jaka stiffened.

The already freezing air suddenly felt infinitely heavier.

His eyes narrowed, his guard shooting up another notch. He didn't show fear, but his expression grew deadly serious.

"You can read my mind?"

"Of course," the old man answered lightly, as if it were the most mundane thing in the world. "I am, after all, the spirit of this mountain."

Jaka fell silent.

The words didn't sound like a lie. And that was exactly why a chill ran down his spine.

*A mountain spirit.*

If he had brushed this off as just some bizarre encounter before, he now realized he was being dragged into something utterly beyond human logic.

The old man took a slow step across the rocks. Strangely, his movements produced no sound at all. Not even the dust or the dew on the stone's surface was disturbed by his tread.

"I've been watching you since you were a baby," the old man continued.

Jaka glared at him.

A deep sense of unease settled in his chest.

'Watched since I was a baby?'

Anyone would get the creeps hearing that, let alone from some mystical entity claiming to be a mountain spirit.

"Now," the old man said, looking Jaka up and down, "after you've weathered the harsh twists and turns of life, I believe you're finally ready to receive it."

"Receive what?"

Jaka tilted his head, skeptical.

Part of him just wanted to get the hell out of there. He hated situations he couldn't control. But at the same time, that strange premonition, the very feeling that had driven him to climb the mountain in the first place, pulsed in his chest once more.

It felt like something was waiting for him.

Something that was going to change his life.

The old man smiled.

It was no longer the irritating smirk from before. For a fleeting second, his wrinkled face radiated an inexplicable majesty, as if he wasn't just a guardian spirit, but a silent witness to an ancient, timeless history.

"Close your eyes."

To be continued...