Stellar Slacker: I Thought This Was an Idle Game!

Forty-eight hours had passed on Solitude Spire.

The morning air smelled clean and crisp, seasoned with the pleasant, nutty fragrance of warm garden loam.

In the garden bed beside the porch, the five golden radish seeds had fully matured.

Five plump, glowing golden tubers protruded two inches above the dark earth. Each radish was the size of a bowling pin, wrapped in a smooth, translucent skin that shimmered like polished yellow jade. Broad, feather-shaped leaves sprouted from their crowns, glowing with a soft, cheerful amber light that rivaled the morning sun.

Beside them, the Sun-Lotus Cabbage spread its golden leaves in silent approval, bathing the root patch in its steady seventy-degree aura.

Felix Vance stood by the garden bed in his gray linen tunic, canvas slippers, and straw hat.

He held an old iron paring knife in one hand. At his feet sat an ancient, weathered wooden bucket he used for compost and potato peelings.

”Not bad,” Felix murmured, tapping the nearest golden radish with the toe of his slipper. ”The growth timer finished right on schedule. No aphids. No slug damage. Zero weeds.”

He knelt down, grabbed the leafy crown of the first radish, and gave a firm tug.

SCHLUCK.

The radish slid free of the loose soil with a wet, satisfying pop. It was heavy, firm, and radiated enough heat to warm his fingers like a freshly baked potato.

Felix used the paring knife to slice off the leafy green top and trim away the tough, bitter outer peel from the neck.

He tossed the trimmed yellow-green leaves and curly peelings into the wooden compost bucket at his feet.

”Always trim the root collar,” Felix said to himself. ”The skin is way too fibrous for stew. Tastes like chewing on an old cardboard box.”

A dark Inspector HUD bracket flickered into view over the freshly peeled root:

【Flora: High-Yield Golden Radish (Harvested)】 【Grade: Five-Star Celestial Flora (Tier 1)】 【Quality: Pristine (Zero Impurities)】 【Spiritual Density: 4,500 Astral Units】 【Inspector Note: Rich in natural vitamins and refined solar essence. Tender flesh suitable for braising with pork ribs. Outer peels contain unrefined lightning toxins; discard before cooking unless you want spicy indigestion.】

”Good,” Felix said, setting the peeled root into a clean wicker basket. ”I’ll make beef radish soup for dinner tonight. A nice, quiet meal with zero effort.”

Behind him, on the porch railing, Barnaby the clockwork owl sat unmoving.

The hand-carved oak bottle cork remained wedged tightly into his beak. The owl held his dull copper coin clamped in his left talon, swiveling his head slightly to keep one amber crystal eye fixed on the far end of the mountain suspension bridge.

Ding-dong.

A delicate chime echoed from the wooden suspension bridge.

A procession in heavy silk robes tiptoed across the bridge planks.

They were senior merchants of the Golden Pavilion, the wealthiest consortium in the realm. At the head walked Grand Elder Qian, an eighty-two-year-old patriarch with long silver whiskers.

Qian wore robes of golden cloud-silk, but his posture was humble.

He carried a red-lacquer hamper lined with yellow silk. Behind him, ten junior masters carried hampers of mountain fruits, roast ducks, spirit honey, and spring water.

Every merchant took tiny, synchronized steps to avoid making noise.

Lyra Ashford stepped onto the porch, her hand on her silver sword.

”Halt,” Lyra said softly. ”State your business before the Sacred Spire.”

Grand Elder Qian immediately dropped to one knee, pressing his forehead against the planks.

”This humble merchant Qian pays homage to the Esteemed Sword Maiden,” Qian whispered. ”We bring the weekly imperial grocery tribute. We seek only to place our tribute upon the threshold and depart in peace.”

Lyra glanced back at Felix, who was peeling his second radish and humming a lazy tune.

”Bring the provisions to the side table,” Lyra said. ”Step lightly. Senior Brother is engaged in profound agricultural cultivation.”

”We obey!” Qian whispered, trembling with gratitude.

The eleven merchants tiptoed across the front yard like cats sneaking across a frozen pond.

They bypassed the sleeping Thunder Gryphon with extreme caution. The giant beast merely opened one golden eagle eye, let out a sleepy huff of static-charged air, and rolled back onto its side, completely ignoring the mortals.

Grand Elder Qian reached the edge of the garden patch, carrying the red-lacquer hamper with both hands.

As he stepped around the wooden compost bucket, a gentle mountain gust caught the garden bed.

A single trimmed leaf—a five-inch scrap of golden radish greens that Felix had casually tossed aside—fluttered out of the wooden bucket.

The leaf drifted through the air and brushed lightly against Grand Elder Qian’s right wrist.

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The moment the waxy leaf touched the elder’s skin, reality stopped.

ZAP!

A crisp, musical chord of pure solar energy flashed along Qian’s skin.

The flash didn’t burn. It felt like dipping a frozen hand into a basin of pure, liquid sunlight.

The ambient spiritual energy stored inside the radish leaf surged straight through Qian’s skin, racing up his radial nerve like a golden serpent of pure fire.

For eighty-two years, Grand Elder Qian had suffered from a crippled meridian.

During an ambush by void raiders in his youth, his Heavenly River Meridian had been crushed by an ice demon’s strike, permanently trapping his cultivation at the Early Golden Core realm. For fifty years, he had swallowed millions of spirit stones’ worth of marrow-cleansing pills, yet the calcified meridian remained as frozen and lifeless as lead.

The golden radish sap struck that calcified blockage.

CRACK.

The sound was not physical. It resonated directly in Qian’s soul like the snapping of an iron chain.

The eighty-year-old ice blockage dissolved into pure golden vapor in less than half a heartbeat.

BOOM!

A blinding column of golden light erupted from Grand Elder Qian’s dantian.

A warm, aromatic shockwave rippled out across the yard, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and crisp winter greens. The silver hair on Qian’s temples darkened, turning ink-black at the roots. The deep wrinkles around his eyes smoothed away, and his stooped posture straightened with the sharp vigor of a man forty years younger.

The spiritual pressure radiating from his body surged:

Early Golden Core... Mid Golden Core... Late Golden Core!

Two minor realms in two seconds.

The ten junior merchants behind him dropped their hampers in sheer, unadulterated panic. Roast ducks and sweet melons rolled across the grass, but no one looked at the food.

”Grand Elder!” a junior merchant gasped, clutching his head. ”Your... your hair! Your aura! The Heavenly River Meridian has unblocked!”

”A breakthrough!” another screamed in a strangled whisper. ”He ascended two realms just by standing in the garden!”

Grand Elder Qian did not hear them.

He was staring down at his right wrist with wide, tear-streaked eyes.

Lying across his pulse point was the five-inch scrap of trimmed golden radish leaf. The leaf still glowed with a faint, warm amber luminescence, glistening with tiny beads of sticky, divine sap.

Qian fell to his knees in the dark dirt, sobbing so hard his silk robes shook.

”The Divine Sun-Root...” Qian choked out, his voice hoarse with spiritual ecstasy. ”The legendary Primordial Nine-Yang Marrow Herb! A single discarded trimming possesses enough pure celestial yang qi to burn away eighty years of frost poison!”

His bloodshot eyes slowly shifted downward.

Right in front of his knees sat the weathered wooden bucket.

Inside the bucket lay twelve broad golden radish leaves, three handfuls of curly golden peelings, and a pile of garden dirt.

The bucket was glowing like a lantern.

A rich, intoxicating aroma of roasted nuts and sweet honey drifted from the wooden rim, so dense that the surrounding clover had already grown three inches taller.

Grand Elder Qian lunged forward, throwing his arms around the battered wooden bucket as if shielding a newborn child from a blizzard.

”Ancestors above...” Qian wept, his face pressed against the rough cedar staves. ”This is not waste! This is the distilled marrow of the immortal heavens! The supreme alchemical compost of the gods!”

He spun around on his knees, facing Felix, who was standing three paces away with a paring knife in one hand and a half-peeled radish in the other.

”Senior Brother Vance!” Qian cried out, bowing his forehead straight into the dirt with a loud THUD. ”This humble merchant begs for your boundless mercy! The Golden Pavilion wishes to purchase this sacred vessel of divine immortal mulch!”

Felix blinked.

He looked down at the old man hugging his compost bucket.

Then he looked at the ten other merchants, who were all trembling on their knees with hands clasped in frantic prayer.

”You... want to buy my compost bucket?” Felix asked, his voice dripping with deadpan confusion.

”Yes! A thousand times yes!” Qian pleaded, raising his head. ”We know it is an unforgivable offense to covet the divine trimmings of Solitude Spire! But our consortium will pay any price! Name your terms, Senior Brother! One hundred thousand top-grade spirit stones! We will transfer the funds to the imperial bank within the hour!”

Felix stared at the old man in silence for four long seconds.

One hundred thousand spirit stones? Felix thought, scratching the back of his neck with his paring knife.

For a bucket of vegetable peels and dirt?

A dark Inspector HUD tooltip hovered over Grand Elder Qian:

【Target: Merchant Grand Elder Qian】 【Cultivation: Late Golden Core (Newly Awakened)】 【Mental State: Extreme Religious Mania / Severe Organic Vegetarian Devotion】 【Inspector Note: Fully convinced that your kitchen garbage is the distilled ambrosia of the primordial creator. Will happily bankrupt his entire commercial dynasty to possess this bucket of compost.】

Felix shook his head slowly.

These roleplay NPCs have completely lost their minds, Felix thought with mild pity. They’re like those rich hipsters back home who spend four hundred dollars on a mason jar of fermented organic swamp water because an influencer told them it aligns their chakras.

Felix sighed, tossing the peeled radish into his clean basket.

”Look, man,” Felix said, waving a hand dismissively. ”You don’t need to give me a hundred thousand rocks for literal garbage. If you guys are that obsessed with organic compost, just take the bucket.”

The entire merchant delegation gasped as if the sky had split open.

”T-Take it?” Qian stammered, his lips trembling. ”Without... without payment?”

”Yeah,” Felix said, wiping his paring knife on his apron. ”It’s trash. You’re saving me a trip to the compost pit behind the outhouse. Just make sure you bring back an extra basket of those roast pork buns next Tuesday. The ones with the sweet scallion sauce. Those were pretty good.”

Dead silence fell over the yard.

Lyra Ashford stood on the porch steps, her silver sword slowly sliding back into its scabbard with a crisp click.

Her violet eyes shone with profound, holy terror.

Senior Brother... Lyra thought, her soul shuddering in awe. He treats one hundred thousand top-grade spirit stones—a fortune capable of purchasing three floating cities—as worthless mortal dust! He scatters the divine marrow of the heavens upon mortal merchants as if throwing bread crumbs to sparrows!

And all he demands in return... is a basket of pork buns!

This is the ultimate Dao of the Void! He does not accumulate wealth. He does not hoard divine providence. He maintains absolute equilibrium between the heavenly realm and the mortal dust!

Grand Elder Qian was crying openly now, his tears washing clean paths through the dirt on his cheeks.

”The boundless benevolence of the Void Sovereign...” Qian whispered, his voice trembling with religious devotion. ”He bestows the holy compost upon us for mere steamed buns. We swear upon our ancestral souls, Senior Brother! You shall receive the finest buns in the ten thousand realms! Every Tuesday! Until the end of time!”

Qian gently lifted the weathered wooden bucket with two trembling hands, treating the splintered wood as though it were forged from fragile crystal.

”Careful! Do not spill a single drop of the sacred mulch!” Qian hissed at his junior merchants. ”Form the Nine-Palace Escort Array! If one radish peel touches the dirt, I will personally revoke your merchant licenses for three lifetimes!”

The eleven merchants formed a tight, armed circle around the wooden bucket, retreating backward across the suspension bridge with reverent, terrified bows.

Felix watched them scurry away into the distance, shaking his head.

”Weirdest organic vegetable cult I’ve ever seen,” Felix muttered.

He picked up his basket of peeled golden radishes, turned on his heel, and walked back up the porch steps toward the kitchen.

On the railing, Barnaby the clockwork owl silently rotated his head ninety degrees.

The oak bottle cork remained wedged in his brass beak. He clutched his copper coin tightly in his talon, staring down the mountain road where the merchants were fleeing, his amber eyes filled with silent, mechanical judgment.