Dawn broke across the southern river-bed plains in a shower of pale lavender and rose light.
The air along the river bend was crisp and cool. It carried the earthy, stone-rich scent of damp soil freshly turned by the spade. Stretching across thirty terraced acres between the clear mountain brook and the foot of the southern cliffs, a sea of emerald-and-purple sweet potato vines rippled in the morning breeze. The leaves, fat and waxy from two months of absorbing Lin Xiao’s ancient runoff water, were so dense that not a single patch of brown earth could be seen beneath them.
He stood at the edge of the first terrace. Old Man Badger leaned on his heavy digging hoe, his whiskered nose twitching with deep satisfaction.
Behind the grizzled badger elder stood forty burrower beastfolk—badgers, moles, and sturdy mountain rabbits—each holding broad-bladed wicker baskets and hand-forged bronze spades. Behind them, lined along the irrigation ditch, sixty wooden handcarts built from split cedar stood ready to receive the harvest.
“Listen up, lads and lasses!” Old Man Badger barked. He tapped the iron metal ring of his hoe against a boundary stone. “Lord Xiao gave us the best land, the best water, and forged us tools that won’t dull against river shale! Today we clear the southern plots before the sun reaches the midday peak! Cut the runners, clear the vines, and dig deep—don’t bruise the skins!”
A cheerful chorus of chittering whistles and hearty thumps answered him as forty diggers fanned out across the furrows.
SNIP-SNIP.
Using curved bronze sickles, rabbit maidens swiftly cut the thick, purple-veined vines. It rolled the tangled foliage into fragrant green bales for the winter goat pens. Then, the badgers stepped into the cleared beds, planting their paws into the moist, dark loam.
SQUELCH.
Old Man Badger sank his hoe into the crest of the first mound, levering his back into the swing. The dark, crumbly earth gave way with a heard heave—and then stopped dead against something solid.
“Hoh?” the elder grunted, his gray eyebrows shooting up. “Did a river boulder wash into my furrows during the last cloudburst?”
He dropped to his knees, his broad, clawed paws digging furiously into the black soil. Two seconds later, his claws struck smooth, leathery skin rather than granite. Brushing away the clinging loam, Old Man Badger’s jaw went fully slack.
Resting in the trench was not a standard forearm-length sweet yam.
It was a huge, bulbous tuber the size of a wine barrel! The skin was a deep, radiant violet-magenta, pulsing with faint, warm earth-qi that kept the surrounding soil pleasantly warm to the touch. Where a minor vine had snapped off near the crown, a thick droplet of clear, nectar-like honeyed syrup welled up, glistening like liquid amber in the dawn sun and releasing an aroma that made the elder’s stomach let out a thunderous rumble.
“LORD XIAO!” Old Man Badger bellowed at the top of his lungs, waving his muddy paws wildly toward the path. “COME QUICK! THE EARTH HAS GIVEN BIRTH TO AN OXEN!”
A soft, bouncing sound answered from the path.
BOING. BOING. SQUISH.
Lin Xiao hopped down from the grass embankment, landing squarely beside the excavated mound. Behind him trotted Xiao Hei, who tilted his great black head with canine curiosity, sniffing the giant purple tuber with wide ruby eyes.
Lin Xiao extended a fluid slime arm, brushing off the damp loam to inspect the massive root.
“Well, look at that,” Lin Xiao murmured, his curved white eyes twinkling in delight. “That’s not an ox, Uncle Badger. That’s the most amazing sweet potato I’ve ever seen in two lifetimes. It must weigh at least eighteen jin!”
A sweet-sounding chime sounded in his mindscape as the Omniscient Dao Spirit completed the spectral scan:
“Biochemical analysis complete,” the Dao Spirit reported smoothly. “The combination of your ancient chaos runoff and underground stalactite limestone minerals has supercharged standard yam cellular mitosis by four hundred percent. The tubers are thirty-four percent natural fructose and rich in bio-available earth marrow. Ingestion will permanently strengthen bone thickness and soothe stomach spirit veins in low-tier fighters and beastfolk.”
Thirty-four percent fructose? Lin Xiao’s core gave a happy shudder. That means when you roast it slowly over coals, the sugars will caramelize into pure liquid candy. Uncle Badger, keep digging! We’re roasting the first batch right here in the field!
The badgers and rabbits let out a thunderous cheer, redoubling their efforts with manic enthusiasm.
All across the thirty acres, the furrows erupted with shouts of shock. Giant violet-skinned tubers, ranging from fifteen to twenty-five jin each, were hauled from the rich earth like buried treasure chests. Young bear cubs rolled the barrel-sized yams onto woven handcarts, laughing as the wheels creaked beneath the huge weight of the bounty.
While the carts filled, Lin Xiao didn’t waste a single moment.
Hopping over to a dry gravel bar beside the irrigation canal, Lin Xiao directed two young earth-bears to dig a long, shallow roasting trench six feet wide and twenty feet long. Together with the badger apprentices, they lined the base and walls of the pit with flat, dry river stones collected from the brook.
Once the stones were laid, Lin Xiao slid onto the edge of the pit.
He extended his azure slime arm forward. He channeled his [Crimson Flame Manipulation].
FWOOOOOOSH!
A gentle, roaring sheet of ruby dragon-fire swept through the stone trench. The clean, smokeless infrared heat bathed the river stones, heating them until they glowed a deep, cherry-red embers. The flame was fueled by purified draconic marrow qi. Because of that, there was no choking soot, no acrid coal smoke, and no flying sparks. Only a pure, radiant heat bed capable of maintaining three hundred degrees for hours.
“Load them in!” Lin Xiao commanded with a bouncy wave.
Ten giant spirit sweet potatoes, freshly washed in the clear brook water until their violet skins gleamed like polished amethyst, were rolled carefully onto the bed of red-hot river stones. Lin Xiao then used a broad fluid limb to shovel a four-inch blanket of clean, sifted hardwood charcoal ash over the tubers, sealing the heat inside.
For forty-five minutes, the digging crews continued hauling cartloads of yams toward the central granaries, their laughter echoing through the mountain basin.
Then, a sudden shift in the breeze halted every hoe in mid-swing.
From the covered stone pit, thin ribbons of fragrant, sweet steam began to leak through the layer of gray ash.
It was an aroma of total, primal comfort. It carried the smoky, toasty richness of charred root skins, the intoxicating floral sweetness of roasted mountain chestnuts. The rich, buttery aroma of pure caramelized honey that made the salivary glands of every beastfolk for half a mile throb with intense hunger.
“By the Great Willow...” a rabbit maiden whispered, dropping her sickle and sniffing the wind with quivering whiskers. “What’s that heavenly smell?”
Lin Xiao hopped to the pit. With a fluid sweep of his slime arm, he brushed aside the hot ash, exposing the roasted tubers.
The once-firm violet skins had puffed up, blistered with charred, paper-thin cracks where dark, amber honey-syrup had bubbled to the surface and caramelized into sticky, glossy toffee. The tubers were so soft that they yielded beneath the gentlest touch of a wooden spatula, wobbling with the delicate fragility of warm custard.
Lin Xiao picked up a wooden paddle. He lifted the first eighteen-jin roasted yam onto a clean cedar platter. He used a bamboo knife. He split the tuber down the center.
PSSSSSSSH.
A plume of dense, golden-orange steam billowed out, perfuming the entire riverbank.
Inside, the flesh was not stringy or dry. It was a vibrant, glistening sunset-gold, fully soaked with rendered sweet syrup. It looked like a giant bowl of molten pumpkin-honey pudding wrapped in a paper-thin, smoky wrapper.
Lin Xiao scooped out a steaming golden dollop with a small wooden spoon-slime arm and blew on it gently before slurping it into his body.
GLOP.
The roasted yam melted upon contact. The outside crust provided a delightful, smoky caramel crunch. Meanwhile, the steaming golden inside dissolved into smooth, silky sweetness that washed across his taste buds like warm honeyed cream. A deep, gentle rush of nourishing earth-qi radiated throughout his fluid core. That left behind a lingering aftertaste of toasted sugar and wild mountain dew that banished every trace of morning chill.
Perfection, Lin Xiao thought blissfully, a series of happy ripples rolling across his azure surface. Creamy, smoky, sweet as syrup, and fully free of stringy fibers. This is the ultimate comfort food.
Lin Xiao looked up at the circle of forty muddy, wide-eyed harvesters standing around the pit, their stomachs growling in ringing all at once.
“Well?” Lin Xiao smiled, his voice ringing with warm hospitality. “What are you waiting for? Uncle Badger, call the carts over! Split the roasted yams! Eat until your paws are sticky!”
The harvesters let out an ear-splitting roar of joy, surging forward with wooden bowls and spoons.
Sitting on the riverbank under the golden morning sun, forty beastfolk dug into the steaming, caramelized tubers, groaning in sheer ecstasy as the sweet, nourishing meat filled their bellies and warmed their souls. Behind them, cart after cart of giant violet yams rolled toward the safe hall, marking the greatest harvest the Grand Lonely Forest had ever witnessed.