SSS-Rank Talent: Super Upgrade System-Chapter 161: Cultivation

The Grand Harvest Competition was over.

The final bell’s echo faded into the vast, open field, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

The air, heavy with the scent of soil and a hint of sweet radish, now carried a tense, expectant energy.

Hundreds of competitors, sore and drained, stood among their modest harvests, their eyes locked on the two who had clearly dominated the day, Daniel and Old Man Hemlock.

The herb garden manager, Silas, his face as cold and impassive as ever, began the final tally.

He walked slowly down the long rows, his datapad beeping softly as he counted the overflowing baskets.

The other farmers watched, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief.

They had started the day with explosive force, their unsealed power allowing them to rip the giant radishes from the earth with a speed that had initially left Daniel in the dust.

But they had quickly faded. The work was grueling, the radishes stubborn, and their brute-force methods had drained their stamina far too quickly.

Daniel, standing by his own massive pile of radishes, finally understood the puzzle that had been bothering him.

He wasn’t stronger than them in his sealed state, not even close. But he was more efficient.

The month of agonizing labor, of learning the rhythm of the radish, had taught him a lesson far more valuable than raw power. It had taught him endurance.

Cultivation, he now realized with a profound clarity, was not a sprint, it was a long, demanding marathon.

You couldn’t win by just burning all your fuel in the first mile.

Silas finally reached the end of his count. He turned to face the assembled crowd, his expression unchanging.

"The results of the Grand Harvest Competition are as follows," he announced, his flat voice carrying across the quiet field.

He began listing the names from the bottom up.

The third-place finisher, a burly senior student named Sam Larry who had been one of the loudest mockers at the start, had only managed 179 radishes.

He looked down at the ground in shame, his earlier arrogance completely gone.

"In second place," Silas continued, pausing for a moment, "with a total of 356 qualifying radishes... Old Man Hemlock."

A ripple of polite, respectful applause went through the crowd of farmers.

Hemlock just grinned his usual toothless grin, leaning on his rake as if he hadn’t spent the entire day in back-breaking labor.

"And in first place," Silas’s cold gaze settled on Daniel, a trace of something that might have been surprise, or perhaps even grudging respect, in his eyes.

"Crowned this year’s Harvest Champion, with a total of 378 radishes... Daniel Vance."

A wave of shocked silence swept through the students from Astralis Academy.

It was impossible. The new kid, the one in the heavy Strength-Sealing Manacles, had not only kept up but had actually won.

He had beaten everyone, including the legendary Old Man Hemlock.

They stared at him, their earlier mockery replaced by a dawning, horrified respect.

They had seen his power sealed, but they had completely failed to see his will.

Daniel felt a surge of pride so deep and pure it almost brought him to his knees.

It was a victory unlike any other. It was a victory earned not with his SSS-Rank talent, not with S-grade weapons, but with his own two hands, his own sweat, and his own stubborn, unyielding spirit.

He felt a profound gratitude wash over him, a deep respect for the cryptic old man who had taught him this invaluable lesson without ever saying a single straightforward word.

"Champion Vance," Silas said, gesturing for him to come forward. "Follow me. It is time to claim your prize."

The other students watched with envy as Daniel followed the manager towards a small, heavily guarded building at the far end of the garden.

This was the Garden Master’s private vault, a place rumored to hold some of the rarest and most potent divine medicines in the entire Verge.

Silas led him into a cool, dark room, the air thick with the scent of a thousand different herbs.

He stopped before a single, ornate wooden box resting on a stone pedestal. "As the champion," Silas stated, "you have your choice of any one divine medicine within our collection. State your choice."

Daniel didn’t hesitate. "I request the Ten-Thousand-Year-Old Ginseng."

Silas nodded, as if expecting the request. He opened the box.

Inside, resting on a bed of dark velvet, was a piece of ginseng.

It was old and twisted, radiating a powerful life force that seemed to make the air itself vibrate.

But it was not whole. It was clearly only half of a much larger root.

"This is only half," Daniel said, his voice laced with confusion and disappointment.

Silas looked at him, his cold face unreadable.

"That is correct. This is the half meant for internal consumption, to refine the body from within.

The other half was won by last year’s champion, Old Man Hemlock."

He then did something completely unexpected.

A faint, cold smile crossed his lips.

"As for where the other half is now," he said in a quiet, mysterious tone, "you’ll have to figure that out yourself, Champion."

He handed the box to Daniel and turned to leave. "Congratulations on your victory."

Daniel stood there, stunned, holding the box.

He looked at the half-ginseng, its shape, its texture, the faint, familiar medicinal scent... and then, the shocking, impossible truth slammed into him with the force of a physical blow.

The thick, coarse, dark brown soap—forced on him by Old Man Hemlock—had been his nightly ritual for an entire month.

The soap that had healed his aching muscles, soothed his blisters, and inexplicably made him stronger.

It had been the other half of the Ten-Thousand-Year-Old Ginseng all along, ground into a powder, disguised as a bar of cheap soap.

The old man wasn’t just teaching a technique or testing his will. He was doing something more.

He had been actively helping him, feeding him the priceless divine medicine in the only way he knew Daniel’s pride would allow, under the guise of forced, humiliating hygiene.

The entire month, the entire ordeal, had been a single, grand, carefully planned lesson.

A slow, unsteady laugh slipped from Daniel’s lips, a mix of shock and deep, overwhelming gratitude.

He had been guided, tested, and taught by a true master and he hadn’t even realized it.

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