Chapter 191: Golden Crops

“Thank you for the encouragement. Still, the more you sweat now, the less you bleed in battle.”

Phield thought for a moment. “Ashina, I’ll have to trouble you to train Charlotte.”

“That would be perfect.”

Ashina let out a cold laugh, picked up a wooden stick, then frowned at how thin it was and swapped it for one as thick as a wrist. She licked her lips, a predatory gleam flashing in her eyes.

“Wait… don’t tell me you’re taking revenge.”

A chill ran down Charlotte’s spine as she instinctively took two steps back.

“Why would I? Even though you kicked me twice and punched me once under the bed yesterday, how could I possibly take revenge?”

“You remember all of that perfectly!” Charlotte cried out.

Ashina didn’t bother replying. Divine power surged into the stick, and in an instant, countless spear-like streaks burst forth.

“Waaah! Help!”

Half a day passed in what could only be described as a “light and enjoyable” mock battle.

It ended in Charlotte’s complete defeat.

That night, Phield dragged his exhausted body into the bath chamber of Starnight Castle. Looking at the spacious bath, a faint smile curled at his lips.

He quite liked the whole bath-time setup. Maybe he could call Ashina and the others over to scrub his back.

Rosalia was out of the question—she was a proper noble lady; no way she’d do something like that. Though… letting her be scrubbed might be another matter.

Soon enough, Phield brought Charlotte over. Rosalia had already fallen asleep after converting the Divine Guard, and Ashina had gone to check on her Drakewolf.

“It still hurts… Ashina went too far. When I get stronger, I’m definitely getting payback.”

Charlotte rubbed her fair skin. Thanks to the abnormal recovery ability of a Divine Chosen, the bruises from training had already faded, but the soreness remained.

Phield glanced at her. Usually a bit airheaded, Charlotte looked completely different in a bathrobe.

Her waist curved perfectly, her collarbones alluring, her figure captivating. If only her eyes carried a bit more charm, she could easily pass for a mature beauty. Unfortunately, they were filled with nothing but “innocent wisdom.”

Maybe a proper beating would mature her.

“W-what are you looking at?”

A blush spread across Charlotte’s cheeks. “Even though we’re in a contract, you can’t do anything inappropriate, okay? No kissing—that leads to babies.”

“Alright, alright.” Phield couldn’t help but laugh. “Just help me scrub my back.”

“How… do I do that?”

Phield found it amusing. How else could you scrub a back? With your feet?

Half joking, he leaned close to her ear and whispered nonsense instructions.

He had expected Charlotte to explode on the spot.

“Eh?”

Her fair face flushed with embarrassment. “Is… is that really how it’s done? Can I not do it?”

Before Phield could admit he was joking, he saw hesitation flicker in her eyes. Slowly, she bent down, her hair falling loose, her soft chest pressing downward with weight.

“If it makes you happy… then alright.”

Phield could only think: this really does feel pleasant.

“Turn around.”

“Huh?” Phield was stunned. Seeing her conflicted expression, he obediently turned and lay face-down against the wooden tub.

A cool yet oddly pressing sensation trembled against his back.

At the same time, her warm, hurried breath brushed against his skin, creating a strangely delicate feeling.

But just as Phield began to enjoy it, he realized—

letting an innocent airhead scrub your back was not a wise decision.

“Huh? Phield, why do you have an extra ’bone’?”

“Don’t touch it!”

“Let me see!”

“Fine, look—but why are you slapping it?! That hurts!”

The next morning, Phield woke up, stretched, and yawned—only to see Charlotte sneaking in with a tray of breakfast, glancing curiously toward his “bone” while rubbing her chin.

“Phield, call me again next time you bathe. I’m really curious…”

“Please don’t use your curiosity on strange things.”

Phield could only laugh helplessly. He knew Charlotte was of noble birth, but he hadn’t expected her to lack even basic common knowledge.

“It’s really mysterious. I’ve never seen something like that before, but when I do, my face just turns red… Is it magic?”

“You could say that.” Phield rubbed his temples. “If someone doesn’t find a partner by thirty, it turns into a magic wand, and they become a Grand Archmage.”

Charlotte was stunned. “That’s incredible!”

“Huh? This food… why is it glowing? Radiation?”

Phield speared a piece of bread. It emitted a faint golden glow—subtle, but clearly visible with his second-tier perception.

“Hehe, this is bread made from golden crops.” Charlotte placed her hands on her hips proudly. “My divine skill doesn’t just accelerate growth—it can also produce special harvests. Eating them improves your physique!”

Song of Bountiful Harvest: A small chance to yield golden crops; consuming them slightly increases strength.

“Already nearing harvest? That fast!”

Phield immediately jumped out of bed.

With Charlotte’s agricultural boost, Nightfall Domain—which had once produced nothing—could now harvest three to four times a year, turning into a land of abundance.

“Soon. The golden crops are already mature—I harvested them early in case someone stole them. As for the normal crops, I estimate they’ll be ready within fifteen days.”

“That’s still excellent. It’ll finally ease the food shortage.”

Phield took a big bite of the bread. The rich aroma of wheat lingered in his mouth, while a faint but noticeable warmth spread throughout his body.

“The effect is obvious. As expected of you.”

He patted Charlotte’s head in praise, and she smiled so brightly her eyes curved into crescents.

“I’m really happy to be able to contribute to the territory.”

Finishing breakfast quickly yet elegantly, Phield felt completely refreshed, his limbs brimming with strength.

“Do golden crops work on Divine Chosen? And what’s the upper limit of the strength increase?”

He was genuinely curious.

“They should have some effect… but I haven’t tried them myself. I brought them to you first.” Charlotte scratched her head. “Later, I’ll let the others try them too, and we’ll know.”

“Don’t forget yourself.”

Phield casually picked up the planning document from the table.

“Next, it’s time to push industrial development—mining, construction, manufacturing. We can finally get those going.”

When he had first arrived in this world, Phield had dreamed of firearms sweeping across the land.

But after seeing craftsmen struggle to even make a simple stool, and workers unable to afford bread, he finally understood what “primitive accumulation” truly meant.

Leaping straight into an industrial age was nothing but a fantasy.

“Oh, right. If we’re harvesting crops, we need to set up a mill as soon as possible.”

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