I thought Kate would just dump me into the work and leave, it wasn’t exactly complicated, but, apparently, she had something else in mind. She led me deeper into another part of the garden, where the thinhorns were harvesting crops.
Drones moved soundlessly between the rows, slicing flowers and placing them into large baskets on their backs. Some thinhorns simply watched over them, while others dug up root vegetables or gathered leaves.
"Diego!" Kate called out to one of them.
I recognized him before he even turned around. Same body type. Same face. But… something felt off. Maybe this one was a little broader, a little heavier.
No white coat. I immediately checked his profile.
Diego 098.
I already knew the thinhorns were genetically engineered servants. That their "names" were really just model numbers. But still… seeing the same face in a place it shouldn’t be?
That threw me off.
Diego 098 looked almost identical to his "brother"—tall, lean, sharp features.
But there were differences.
His expression was harsher, more distant. And there was no lab coat—instead, he wore a black jumpsuit, something between a technician’s uniform and a farmer’s, given the setting.
An oxygen mask was strapped to his face, linked to a slim tank on his back.
As we approached, he lifted his head and gave Kate a small nod.
"098, this is my mentee, Jake Sullivan," she said.
Diego turned to me. His eyes were different from 015’s—sharp, but not piercing.
"Jake," he greeted me briefly. His voice was calm, even, with no trace of emotion.
I wondered… How similar was he to 015? In personality, for example? Does cultivation shape a person’s character? 015 had a mace and lightning roots at 118.
This Diego cultivated fist—his root was at 149.
How different were they?
"Got any work for him?" Kate asked. "Harvesting."
"Chamomile," he added, waiting for Kate’s nod before gesturing for me to follow.
The chamomile fields stretched for dozens of meters. White carpets of flowers swayed gently in the segmented flower beds, stirred by the wind that swept between the platforms.
The wind wasn’t natural. It was kicked up by a cultivator’s technique—a man in black-and-green armor training at the platform in the center of the field. He moved so fast that his sheer speed alone could create wind currents.
But he wasn’t just relying on his body. He danced across the platform, golden Qi bursting from his fists in a continuous stream, flying several meters before detonating—scattering into golden light that settled over the flowers.
I froze for a moment, watching the spectacle. I tried to see if the qi retained the shape of a fist, like the technique I had seen before.
This one was more advanced…
Diego snapped me back to reality.
"I just sent you my contact," he said, forwarding me a message. "Tasks, temporary drone control access…"
At the same time, I noticed several drones skittering toward us, their spider-like legs moving quickly and precisely. Each one carried a stack of plastic baskets.
They lined up neatly in front of Diego—like obedient soldiers. Or well-trained dogs.
"Your job is simple," Diego said, grabbing a basket.
"The drones collect the flowers and hand off the baskets to you. You check the contents. Seal the basket. Keep an eye on them. If they start glitching—shut them down. App’s in your messages. If a drone won’t shut down—call me immediately. Got it?"
"Two questions," I said. "First—how do I check the contents? I’m no herbalist…"
"Just make sure there are only flowers in the basket. If they start shredding leaves or stems—shut them down. What’s the second question?"
"If a drone goes rogue, do I need to catch it? Kate said I should."
"You can try. If you can avoid damaging the crops, or if the damage from you stepping in is less than what the drone would cause. Either way—call me first."
"Understood," I said.
"The baskets get picked up every thirty minutes. Good luck."This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
He nodded, turned, and walked toward the other workers.
I looked at the drones. Then at Kate.
"Control app," she reminded me, unloading the stacks of baskets, leaving only one per drone.
I skimmed through the message, activated the app. Suddenly, my interface highlighted the drones and flower beds. The controls were pretty intuitive.
At first, I sent the drones to different beds—
And immediately got scolded by Kate. She told me it split my attention and slowed my reaction time if one of them malfunctioned. So, I reassigned them to a single flower bed.
The metal spiders suddenly extended their legs, lifting themselves high above the plants as they moved into position. Carefully stepping between the flowers to avoid damaging them.
"They act like these chamomiles are made of glass!" I said.
"There’s a reason for that," Kate replied. "Fist Qi disperses on impact and vibration. If the harvesting is too rough, these flowers won’t be much different from regular ones."
I watched as the delicate manipulators of the nearest metal spider swiftly snipped a flower just below the head and carefully placed it into a basket.
Then I looked at the stacks of baskets, and finally understood what Kate meant by boring.
"Step closer to the platform," she said, pointing at the nearest one before hopping onto it herself.
Her movements weren’t anywhere near as fast as the cadet still hammering out wave after wave of strikes in the distance.
What she demonstrated looked more like a basic karate punch, but it didn’t end with her fist. With a barely audible pop, a silver qi projection shot forward in the shape of her gauntlet, flying a few meters over the flowers before fading.
"Eyes on the drones!" Kate ordered. "It’s way too easy to get penalty points here!"
"You didn’t mention that earlier!"
"You’ll survive," Kate said.
"Open your senses. Try to catch the feeling. Just don’t absorb the Qi! That’s another penalty."
Alright. Eyes on the drones. Behind me, Kate kept up her steady rhythm.
Pop… pop… pop…
I tried to sense something, but I felt nothing.
Actually, I felt a hell of a lot. Every damn sense was sharpened by that bloody Heightened Sensory Formation—turning everything into complete white noise.
Worse—
It was starting to piss me off.
Kate continued practicing her technique for another thirty minutes. I stood nearby, accepting baskets from the drones and glancing at her every few minutes.
She never stopped.
Her fists kept launching silver qi projections, dispersing into the air above the flower beds. Twice during that time, a cart rolled up, driven by a thinhorn in a black jumpsuit.
Lu 211. His features had an Asian look to them. He silently gathered the full baskets, loaded them onto the platform, and drove away.
By now, the drones had cleared three flower beds—
Not much left to do. I was just starting to get used to the monotony when, out of nowhere, one of the drones jumped, its frame shrieking as if something had struck it.
Its legs spasmed, its body twisted. And it crashed into the flower bed, crushing plants and scattering flowers from its basket. Its manipulators jerked violently, making sharp clicking noises.
I blinked.
What the hell was that?
I didn’t have time to properly react, I didn’t see what happened. But… I felt something through the etching sensorial noise.
A brief flash of danger, a sudden jolt that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. Sharp, but not painful, like something invisible had rushed past, barely grazing my skin.
I wasn’t sure if it was just my imagination or if something really happened.
Kate heard the noise and turned.
"Call Diego," she reminded me.
"It just jumped and fell…"
I quickly opened the control app and tried to shut the machine down.
No response.
"It was like something hit it." Since the drone had crashed in the middle of the flower bed, I didn’t want to trample the chamomile. So I called 098. "Diego, we’ve got a problem. One of the drones went nuts. I can’t shut it down."
"Is it causing a lot of damage?"
"Not really…" I said, watching servos twitching weaker each time.
"I’m on my way."
Kate hopped down from the platform, stood next to me, and crossed her arms.
"It was residual qi detonation," she said.
I raised a brow at her. Not that she could see it through the helmet, but she must have guessed, because she explained.
"Qi left behind from techniques. It doesn’t just settle in the air — it lingers on objects, on plants. It mixes with natural Qi. The result is a lot messier than the clean qi used in techniques."
I looked back at the drone.
"So that’s what hit it?"
"Yeah.”
“Did you feel it?" I asked.
Kate tilted her helmet toward me.
"Of course. Did you?"
"There was… something."
"Try to remember that feeling," she ordered, stepping back into her stance.
Then she launched a flurry of rapid strikes—
Silver fists burst from her hands again, soaring through the air and dissolving several meters above the ground.
I tried.
I focused on every sensation, every shift in the air, every change in my body—
But… Nothing. Just the noise. No pulses. No pressure.
I tensed harder, even shut my eyes! But the only thing I could feel was the tremor of my own breathing under the helmet.
"Nothing?" Kate asked, stopping.
I shook my head.
Kate nodded.
"Relax. It’s not a fast process. But the fact that you felt something before means you’re moving in the right direction."
I snorted.
"Yeah, speeding in that direction."
Kate tilted her head—probably laughing.
"My part’s done. The garden’s charged. I’m leaving you with Diego. He’ll explain what to do with the drones. Work. Observe… Your job isn’t to force it—just to get used to it. And talk to Diego about a regular schedule."
"As you say, mentor," I grumbled.
Right then, 098 arrived.
Floating behind him was another drone—
A blocky, bread-loaf-shaped thing, hovering without any visible propellers.
"Later, Diego," Kate said.
"Later," he grunted.
The loaf drone drifted over to the damaged machine, hovered above it, then extended two long mechanical arms—gently lifting it and passing it to Diego.
The thinhorn examined the twitching drone, popped open a panel on its back, and pressed a button. Finally, it went still.
The loaf flew off to grab an empty basket but didn’t bother collecting the scattered flowers.
Diego dumped the rest of the basket onto the flower bed, then turned to me.
"Anything collected from this batch—dump it. These flowers won’t be of much use. Better to wait for the next harvest."
"Because of the detonation?"
"Yeah. It knocked the qi out of them. This culture doesn’t absorb Fist energy, so there’s no point in keeping them. Let them dry out—they’ll go to compost later. Finish up here, and you’re free to go."
He turned to leave.
"Wait!" I called. "I’ll be coming here regularly. Can we set up a schedule?"
"Just come when you’ve got time. We’re always short on hands."
"I can come back after lunch?"
Diego allowed it.
In fact, we worked out a deal—
I could put in extra shifts ahead of time to cover my mandatory work hours for the school and use them later.
Normally, getting assigned to garden work—harvesting and repairs—was a punishment for screwing around.
Unlike qi saturation, which had plenty of volunteers because charging the gardens let people practice their techniques. Which meant that, until first-years started screwing things up, they’d always be short-staffed here.
Well… My first attempt at sensing Fist Qi had been a total failure, but it looked like I’d have plenty of chances to practice.