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... y eight in the morning, far too early for official pronouncements, can't I rest I've been too busy these couple of days. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I answered with a wary greeting. The voice on the other end belonged to a harried staff member, informing me of a visitor requesting my presence.

A visitor? At this hour? Who would even want to visit me? With a sigh, I decided to humor whoever it was.

Heading down to the reception area, I found myself face-to-face with a striking ...

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If he wanted to boss around, he could do whatever he wanted. I would continue to farm, but if he tried to attack me, then he would not live to see another day.

Zhao Hai was a shut-in until he was transmigrated to another world with a farm and taken over the body of a fallen noble. The land that the noble had was one that could not grow anything. He also had a fiance who was the heir to a principality. To make matters even worse, he was talentless in martial arts and magic where he couldn’t even learn both.

“So what if I can’t do magic? I have my farm. Let’s see you try and attack me! I’ll let my bugs out to devour all of your military rations! I’ll put pesticides in your water source and grow weeds on your land! Let’s see you try and attack me after that!”

“What? You’ll hire assassins to kill me? Try and do that when I’m hiding inside my farmhouse. Once that is over, I’ll rid your country of all your food sources! Your citizens will come after you instead of you coming after me!”

The shut-in had a slightly foul personality. This is a story of how he, and his farm, became a nightmare to the people of a world of swords and magic.

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The hearse with the weird odor slowed to a stop before the entrance. The sound of pebbles could be heard bouncing on the ceiling. There were footsteps coming from the corridor, and there seemed to be someone sawing next door. The door knob to the room rattled slightly, and the faucet in the bathroom kept dripping even though it had been screwed shut. There was a rubber ball that rolled on its own underneath the bed. Wet footsteps started to surface one after another on the floor.
At 3 am, Chen Ge held a cleaver in his hand as he hid beside the room heater. The call he was trying to make was finally answered. “Landlord, is this what you meant by ‘the house can be a little crowded at night’‽”

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