The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 379

Chapter 379 Home, At Last

Norman was overwhelmed with joy and turned to look at Emmett.

Emmett stood there, lips moving slightly as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, no words came out.

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He simply gave Norman a firm pat on the shoulder, then turned to Dominic, straightened his back–slightly hunched from years of mining–and gave a salute that was a little rusty but still precise. His voice was thick with emotion. “T–Thank you.”

Dominic returned the salute and said in a steady voice, “Pack your things. We move out as soon as possible.”

The medical pod was stowed away. Norman and Emmett returned to their crude bunkhouse and gathered their few meager belongings.

When they stepped out of that suffocating tunnel once more and looked up at the eternally gray “sky” of KD–771, their eyes were no longer the same.

The Hover car rolled through the sewage–filled alleys of District Eleven on Centria Planet and finally stopped in front of the rusted metal door.

The door slid open, and with Dominic and Emmett supporting him, Norman stumbled out.

Although he had received basic stabilization inside the medical pod, the aftermath of his mental power collapse and the long–term strain on his body left him weak. He was as pale as paper, his steps unsteady, and traces of lingering pain still etched across his face.

Before Dominic could knock, he struggled forward and gently pushed open the half–closed door with trembling fingers. “Megan… Megan? Sophia?” His voice was hoarse and dry, carrying the exhaustion of a long journey and the nervousness of someone afraid to come home.

Inside, Megan, who had been stirring a pot of vegetable soup by the stove, suddenly turned around at the sound.

The moment her eyes fell on the man at the door–thin to the point of being almost unrecognizable, scars not yet healed on his face, but with eyes burning with an intense light–the wooden spoon slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.

Her lips parted, as if to call out, but her throat seemed blocked, no sound coming out.

Only sudden and uncontrollable tears spilled from her eyes, blurring her vision in an instant.

She staggered forward, not throwing herself into his arms but reaching out, trembling, carefully touching his gaunt cheek, as if to confirm this wasn’t a dream.

“N–Norman?” Her voice finally broke through, choked with disbelief. “Is… is it really you? You… how did you…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Her eyes greedily scanned his face and his body. His sunken cheeks, sharp cheekbones, the bandaged wounds beneath his worn clothes, the dust from the mining planet clinging to his faded clothes, and his tattered work uniform stabbed into her heart like a needle.

This was no longer the upright, sharp–eyed man she remembered.

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10:11 am P P

Chapter 379 Home, At Last

This was a body drained by life, by injury, by the mine, and it was barely holding on.

“D–Daddy?” Sophia, curled up on the lower bunk, had been startled awake.

She peeked out timidly. The wide eyes on her pale little face that had once seemed distant and unfocused were now fixed on the man at the door.

Her memory of her father had grown blurry.

She only remembered someone tall, someone who would lift her high into the air, and someone whose rough hands would gently pat her head.

But the man in front of her was so thin and so tired. Moreover, he had frightening scars on his face.

Seeing his wife’s silent tears and his daughter’s hesitant, unfamiliar gaze, the wall Norman had built deep inside himself–brick by brick, through numbness and sheer will in that mine–collapsed in an instant.

All the exhaustion, pain, bitterness, fear, and the overwhelming longing and guilt he felt toward his family surged like a flood, breaking through his last line of defense.

“Megan… Sophia… I… I’m home…” He could no longer hold himself up. His legs gave out, and he fell forward.

Megan cried out and rushed to catch him. Instinctively, Norman wrapped his arms around her frail shoulders.

The three of them stood there, in that cramped, broken–down room, holding each other tightly.

No words were needed. Only the sound of grief held back too long, finally breaking open.

Norman’s cries were low and hoarse, carrying the grit of the mines and the trembling relief of survival.

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