Old Harry was in his fifties, and he couldn't tell if he was fifty-five, fifty-six, or fifty-seven. Pen "Fun" Pavilion www.biquge.info

The old farmer, who was buried in digging from the soil all day long, only remembered when he should sow seeds, when he should weed, and when he should harvest, and as for how many reincarnations such days have passed, he can remember clearly.

When he was still in Cope, the people on the farm called him Old Harry, and that seemed to be six or seven years ago.

Who would have thought that old Harry, who had farmed for the noble lord all his life, would be able to own a piece of his own land on this small farm in the north of the province of Oviere before he entered the earth?

To this day, Harry Sr. still remembers the time when his two sons coaxed him out of his hometown.

Harry Sr. had heard about the rumors that the Duke of Vane, the king of the north, had given the newly cultivated land to the new immigrants, but he, like the old fellows who had farmed all his life, could not believe that it could be true. The baron's steward also said that it was a gimmick to deceive people into clearing the wasteland.

That year, a troubadour passed by their farm, and in his song the north was as beautiful as heaven, with endless fertile fields, but no vicious stewards, and great iron horses plowing, sowing, and reaping crops, and even the winds of heaven doing some threshing and grinding work.

The troubadour's words were absurd, but the young son of old Harry was so fascinated that he finally got his brother and sister-in-law and conspired to trick him into the old man.

Old Harry still remembers the stupid way he cried on the way to Cope City, remembered the embarrassment of his son and daughter-in-law being scolded by him and did not dare to raise their heads, and remembered the shock when he was temporarily placed in Cope City and received the bread and new cotton clothes from the smiling young steward.

From Cope to the province of Oviere, the old Harry's family was well cared for, never starved or frozen. But the closer he got to his destination, the more bottomless Old Harry's heart became.

He had never read a day in his life, not even by his own name, and he knew not much except to deal with the land and crops, but there was one thing that old Harry was convinced of—there was no good thing in this world for no reason.

Therefore, the more fragrant the bread in his hand and the warmer the cotton clothes on his body, the more panicked old Harry became. He has an old bone of his own, even if he dies in the cold north, he has nothing, but he is reluctant to give up his two sons, and even more reluctant to give up his eight-year-old grandson Ethan.

However, when he arrived in the province of Ovieh, the elder Harry realized that he was wrong. There are really good things in this world for no reason.

Their family of five not only really got a large amount of arable land, but the youngest grandson Ethan was able to go to the public school on the farm to read and write without spending a single copper.

Not only that, good things followed, in the second year of the new calendar, the youngest son was recruited by the factory south of the farm, not only with a good salary, but also because of the status of a regular worker, he got a small amount of magic gold and became a magic apprentice.

Ethan Jr. also received the same treatment at Farm School.

Old Harry's family actually had two magicians, which was something he never dreamed of.

The God of Light was so merciful that He brought all the good things to this poor old peasant. Every day of Harry's old age seemed to be living in heaven.

In the early morning of April 17, the fourth year of the new calendar, as usual, he got up early to prepare breakfast for his little grandson, put him in the carriage of the public school, and then went to work in the fields—there was little farm work in late spring, and the eldest son and his wife had to sleep a little longer, and the elder Harry was too old to sleep so much.

The vegetable patch in front of the farmhouse is ploughed with seasonal onions and peas, and the factory on the south side of the farm comes here every few days to buy vegetables. Old Harry didn't know what the factory was producing, and the youngest son couldn't understand it vaguely, but the purchasing manager of the factory was very generous, and he never deducted the gold coins he gave.

In the past few years, although the wheat has become more and more unsold, the land on the farm has become more and more ripe, and the annual harvest is rising, or in a few years, the old Harry's family will be able to build a beautiful little building like the first few families who came here. When the time comes, the youngest son will be able to marry a daughter-in-law.

If only my wife was still there...... As soon as this thought arose, old Harry spat into the ground and said to himself: Forgive me, O God of Light, for all suffering and blessing is your will......

Old Harry, though illiterate, had heard the prayers of the stewards, and he knew that greed was a sin, and that he should not beg for unrealistic blessings like the god of light.

By this time, the sun had fully risen, and the endless wheat fields and the occasional blue brick farmhouses were bathed in soft sunlight. Old Harry looked at the picturesque scene, and tried to recall the words of the troubadours when they described the kingdom of heaven, but he could not remember a single word.

He grinned and kept his head down busy.

In the morning light, old Harry's chestnut hair had long since turned gray, the wrinkles on his face were dense and deep, his eyes were cloudy and gray with too much sun, and his big hand holding the hoe was as dull and rough as an animal skin.

However, old Harry always had a smile on his face.

His ears were already a little deaf, and he heard the sound of horses' hooves when the galloping horse was a hundred meters away.

Old Harry looked up and looked at the horse that was coming towards him with some confusion. Immediately, the man was dressed in light leather armor, like a knight.

Yes, he must have been a knight, otherwise he would not have let his horse step on a wheat field that had just been pumped.

Seeing the wheat seedlings being spoiled by the horses' hooves, old Harry's heart ached. However, out of respect for the knight, he did not dare to show a dissatisfied look, but put down his hoe, tried to straighten his waist, and stood respectfully in place.

He was waiting for the knight to come up and ask him. Yes, there were no knights near the farm, and the old man must have been passing by, and perhaps he wanted to ask himself about something.

Old Harry was a little nervous, and if the other party came to ask for directions, he wouldn't be able to answer. Since coming to the farm a few years ago, Harry Sr. has never stepped out of the farm, and the world outside the farm is a blank slate for him.

The horse's hooves stepped on the ridges of the field, and the knight showed no signs of slowing down, and rushed straight towards the vegetable patch where the old peasant stood.

"Aren't you here to ask for directions?" was the last thought of old Harry.

The knight's hand rested on the hilt of the sword at his waist, and in the morning light, a golden arc flashed away.

The old peasant's body ruptured along the diagonal line of his chest, and blood and entrails gushed out, staining the small vegetable patch under his feet.