[System-driven] [No harem] [No female lead] [Build a faction] [Behind the scenes] [Not brainless] [Starts off slow, picks up in the middle and later]
They said my talent was the most useless of all: the Farmer type. My only skill was growing a crooked tree. Want it to bear fruit? Water it with your life. The soul of a powerful person had to be buried beneath it, and it would take a whole year to grow a single fruit. I stared at that sorry tree in silence for three days.
Then I found two corpses in the hills behind the school: one belonged to a demon of time and space, the other to a fallen dragon. Both were Emperor-class.
So I quietly filed the paperwork to drop out, returned to an isolated mountain village, hefted a hoe, and started farming. Bury the bodies, water the tree, wait for the fruit to ripen. While I was at it, I hung a sign at the foot of the mountain: “Hunter's Guild, Coming Soon.”
Later, the top hunters who roamed the world in pursuit of S-rank ferocious beasts would receive a mysterious invitation. It was signed with just one word: “Hunt.” On the back was a hand-drawn crooked tree. They said a single glance was enough to make your hair stand on end.
Three years after transmigrating, no one knew where the good-for-nothing boy who'd dropped out and vanished had gone. Only the mountain spirits sometimes saw a young man leaning against a crooked tree, sipping tea. Buried in the dirt at his feet were the most terrifying legends on the continent.
Farm, bury bodies, and wait. It's time for this generation of gods to be replaced.
