Inside the spatial farm.
The sunlight was warm, and a gentle breeze brushed across the fields.
Xiao Mingrui only felt the world spin violently. The next moment, everything went black—then his backside slammed hard into the soft grass.
“Ow!”
He let out a miserable cry, instinctively clutching the painful area, his face twisting in agony.
After a long while, he cautiously pried one eye open through his fingers.
Not dead?
Above him was a vast blue sky, a few white clouds frozen motionless.
The air was thick with the scent of soil and fresh grass.
He let go of his hands and lay spread-eagle on the ground, chest heaving violently.
As long as that damn bear wasn’t here, this place was paradise.
Just as he was about to close his eyes and recover, a shadow suddenly loomed over him. Immediately after, noisy chatter poured in from all directions.
“Oh my, isn’t that His Highness the Third Prince?”
“I saw him fall from the sky with my own eyes! Just bam like that!”
“Tsk tsk, look at his pants—torn into strips.”
“Why is he not moving? Did he die from the fall?!”
Xiao Mingrui suddenly opened his eyes.
A circle of familiar faces surrounded him, all staring blatantly at his lower half without restraint.
Minister of Revenue Chu Heng, the Vice Minister of Rites, and several gray-bearded old scholars who usually loved to act superior.
Why were these old men here?
And why did they all look so dusty and disheveled?
“What are you looking at?! I’ll gouge your eyes out!”
His face flushed red as he frantically tried to pull his legs together, attempting to cover that humiliating flash of color.
But before he could move, a golden boot came whistling through the air and kicked him hard in the thigh.
“Lying there pretending to be dead? Get up!”
He rolled twice from the kick, and just as he was about to curse, he looked up—and swallowed every word.
Xiao Juechen stood there with a dark expression, holding a hoe. A few strands of grass still hung from it.
His dragon robe was hastily tucked at the waist, revealing an inner garment stained with dirt.
A few strands of hair hung down his forehead, making him look more disheveled than ever.
Yet his eyes still carried an overwhelming imperial authority.
“Fa… Father Emperor?”
Xiao Mingrui’s mind buzzed completely blank.
Why was his father here?
And… why was he holding a hoe?
Before he could process anything, a two-meter-tall shadow suddenly loomed over him.
A pumpkin-headed scarecrow swayed forward, its painted smile eerie and unnatural.
The whip in its hand cracked through the air with a sharp snap.
“Number 98, Xiao Mingrui. Immediately enter labor mode. Three-minute countdown begins!”
Thud.
Thud.
Two more heavy impacts sounded.
Xiao Mingxuan and Xiao Mingyue fell beside him like sacks of grain, kicking up dust.
“Elder brother? Sister?”
Xiao Mingrui ignored his exposed embarrassment and crawled over, desperately grabbing the crown prince’s leg, tears and mucus all over him.
“I knew you wouldn’t abandon me!”
“Did we all die? Is this the underworld?”
“Look, even Father Emperor is here, and even talking scarecrows!”
Xiao Mingxuan pulled his leg away in disgust and quickly scanned the surroundings.
Nearly a hundred court officials stood scattered across the field, each holding farming tools, each followed by a whip-wielding scarecrow.
In the distance stretched endless farmland—some already plowed, some still barren.
When he saw his equally disheveled father leaning on a hoe, his pupils shrank sharply.
“Father Emperor?! What is going on?”
“I remember we were in the forest just now…”
This world… had gone insane.
Above the sky, golden light flowed like divine script, words burning into the air like prophecy.
“New trainees admitted: Crown Prince Xiao Mingxuan, Third Prince Xiao Mingrui, Third Princess Xiao Mingyue.”
“Task: Each must cultivate 10 mu of wasteland.”
“Time limit: 60 days.”
“Failure: consequences at your own risk.”
Three brand-new scarecrows bounced forward and clanged three hoes down at their feet.
The crown prince looked at the hoe, then at the officials in the distance.
Those once-high-and-mighty ministers were now all covered in dirt, working like common laborers.
He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes.
When he opened them again, there was a hint of resigned determination.
“Third brother, little sister—let’s work.”
He paused, glancing at an official in the distance who had just been whipped and was hopping in pain.
“Otherwise… we’ll get beaten.”
“And it looks like it hurts a lot.”
Xiao Mingrui clutched his torn pants and cried out toward the void:
“Can I at least get some pants?! There are so many people watching—this is indecent!”
His answer was a whip crack.
Snap!
The lash landed precisely on the most fleshy part.
“Aaaah!!”
He jumped three feet into the air, grabbed the hoe, and sprinted toward the field.
“I’ll work! I’ll work, okay?! Don’t hit me anymore!”
“I barely have any cloth left on my pants!”
He ran while crying.
Under the tattered fabric, his pink undergarments added a striking splash of color to the gray farmland.
When Feng Zeyuan arrived and saw this scene, she laughed so hard she slapped her thigh.
“Hahaha! Where’s the royal dignity now?”
“One whip and they’re more obedient than anyone!”
The system laughed along wildly.
“Host, look at the Third Prince’s running posture—he looks like a rabbit being chased by a dog!”
Feng Zeyuan turned to Liu Si, who was furiously writing beside her.
“Liu Si! This scene must be described in detail! Focus on it!”
Liu Si wrote like a storm without even looking up.
“Rest assured, my lord. I will depict the Third Highness’s heroic demeanor in vivid detail!”
“I’ve even thought of the title: The Prince’s Transformation Diary: A Farming Life Beginning with Pink Underpants!”
“And the sequel: One Hundred Ways the Third Prince Gets Beaten!”
Feng Zeyuan nodded in satisfaction.
“Good, good. You’ve got talent. Extra reward later!”
Feng Zeykai stood nearby, watching the chaos below. He shook his head helplessly, but a faint smile appeared on his lips.
The Great Xia court… was finally in order.
…
The next morning.
No rooster crow—only the deafening sound of the loudspeaker blasting the “March of the Volunteers.”
“Arise! Ye who refuse to be slaves…”
The loud, stirring melody jolted all officials awake.
One by one, they slowly crawled out of their tents.
Some hadn’t even opened their eyes before they were dragged out by scarecrows.
Feng Zeyuan stood on a makeshift platform in a camouflage uniform, black boots on her feet, a loudspeaker hanging at her waist.
A whip-like pointer twirled in her hand, her gaze sharp as an eagle.
“Attention!”
Her voice thundered across the farm.
Chaos erupted below as officials scrambled into rough rows.
She slammed the table with a bang.
Everyone flinched awake instantly.
“Welcome, students, to the Great Xia Cadre Training Academy!”
“I am your principal and chief instructor—Feng Zeyuan!”
A wicked smile curled on her lips.
“Today’s first lesson: transformation!”
“If you want progress in your thinking, start with your heads! All that useless long hair and beards—shave them off!”
The crowd exploded in shock.
“What?! Shave our hair?!”
“This… this cannot be allowed!”
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