Ryan bent over the red soil that resembled the skin of a slumbering dragon, clutching seeds of "Silver Moon Trees" he had bought from Mera's shop a week prior. The blue-tinted seeds emitted a faint chime when touched, as if carrying ancient songs within their shells. He planted them methodically, each seed in a palm-deep hole, just as Mera had taught him. The forest surrounding the village of "Eldervin" loomed like an army of green giants, their silver leaves casting shimmering shadows under the sunlight, while their golden fruits—ripened after a decade of cultivation—dangled like tiny lanterns.
As he placed the seventh seed, a metallic chime echoed in his mind:
*[Ding! One tree planted. Mission progress: 0.1%]*.
He froze for a moment, then laughed bitterly: "Ten years to plant a thousand trees... and now each one gives 0.1%?" When the sound repeated after the second planting, he muttered: *"Mute notifications"*.
The village pulsed like a colossal heart around him: women crafting cheese from the milk of "Cloud Goats" grazing on magical herbs, children chasing "Mist Butterflies" that left trails of golden dust, and men building a new warehouse near the river with lumber from "Iron Trees," whose leaves chimed with every breeze. On the horizon, Ryan's towering trees brushed the clouds, their silver-streaked trunks reflecting sunlight like mirrors.
Amid the hum of golden bees, Lila appeared—a middle-aged woman with straw-colored hair and mint-green eyes. She held a basket woven from "Glowing Willow" branches:
"Finally found you! The fruits you gave me last time... cured my daughter's fever in one night."
She handed him a golden fruit from his basket, then whispered gravely:
"Beware—storing them near Iron Trees will spoil them... Use whitewood containers instead."
At the home of Alden, the village chief—the only building of black opal stone—Ryan found the old man sitting beneath a "Time-Twister Tree," its leaves shifting hues every minute. He offered a basket of rare "Phoenix Blood" fruits:
"These are from the first batch."
Alden smiled, reminding Ryan of the man who had granted him land as a homeless child:
"Gifts don't buy loyalty... Remember: *The tree that stands against the storm is uprooted, but the grass that bends survives*."
Before Ryan could leave, Mark stormed in—the chief's sharp-faced son—waving a royal cloth adorned with hawk insignias:
"Isn't it hilarious? Even after a thousand trees... you still act like a peddler!"
Ryan picked up a fallen fruit and crushed it slowly under his boot, smiling:
"Traders know the value of what they sell... Some don't."
Mark snarled and left, while Alden ignored the scene as if deaf.
Back at his wooden hut on the forest's edge, Ryan opened the storage dug beneath an ancient tree trunk. Damp, earthy air greeted him as he arranged fruits in whitewood containers, per Lila's advice. Through a small vent, village lights flickered like friendly monster eyes in the night.
A haunting song rose from a neighbor's house:
*"Our roots reach deep as stars... Our leaves hold the moon!"*
Children sang of his trees, now woven into the village's legacy.
He sealed the storage, then prepared pruning tools for tomorrow. The system stayed silent, but a red number glowed in his vision:
*[990/1000 trees required for upgrade.]*
The wind carried Alden's whisper once more:
*"Bend a little... lest the storm breaks you