Joe began his ascent up the mountain. With a furtive glance, he slipped off his worn boots, and carried them. The cool soil welcomed his bare feet, the granules of earth pushing up between his toes with each step. He savored the raw connection with the earth, a sensation that brought a sense of grounding and tranquility.

Unbeknownst to him, his steps lightened, as if an unseen force was guiding his movements. His footprints, delicate and fleeting, disappeared almost as quickly as they formed, leaving the mountain path as pristine as before. The peaceful quiet of the night was his only companion.

As Joe finally reached the shack, he found it eerily silent. The accustomed gruff sound of Gruff's bleating was conspicuously absent. Instead, the gentle snoring of his two disciples, was the only sound that disturbed the still night. They were sprawled in a messy heap near the compost patch out back, oblivious to the world around them. The compost patch, a place they had claimed as their sleeping spot, was a sight to behold with turned soil and half-eaten scraps peeking out from under the two slumbering bodies.

There were no signs of Gruff anywhere, an unusual occurrence that sent a flicker of apprehension through Joe. His gaze swept over the deserted coffee farm, searching for any signs of his goat companion. But even in the pale moonlight, he saw nothing. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "Ah well," he muttered to himself, "how much trouble could Gruff have gotten into?" He chuckled, the sound echoing in the quiet night.

Just as Joe was about to turn in, a sudden burst of lightning erupted at the base of the mountain, illuminating the otherwise quiet night with its brilliant form. He squinted against the sudden flash, his heart pounding in his chest. The stark contrast between the peaceful solitude of the mountaintop and the chaotic beauty of the lightning was as jarring as it was awe-inspiring. But before he could react, the echo of a deafening impact boom rolled across the landscape, shaking the ground beneath his feet. His sleepy chuckles froze, replaced with a look of concern.

Joe shrugged. He wasn't here to fight whatever that was, he was here to grow coffee.

Joe was roused from his slumber by a quiet bleating. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he pulled the door open to find an unexpected sight. Gruff was sitting on his haunches outside the door, eyes half-closed, as if in a state of deep meditation. The faint pre-dawn light bathed his rough hide, creating a halo around him.

But the real surprise lay at his feet. A coffee plant, bearing fruit. It was an unfamiliar sight amidst the usual vegetation. A closer look confirmed Joe's initial shock – these were robusta beans. A rich, earthy aroma exuded from the beans, a scent that was noticeably different from the Arabica variety they had been growing. It was impossible. How could Gruff have gotten a hold of these beans? Joe had not brought any robusta variety from his world.

Joe squatted down, reaching out gingerly to pluck one of the cherries. He waited for Gruff to give him an assenting nod. It was firm to the touch, the skin yielding slightly under the pressure of his fingertips. He brought the cherry up to his nose, taking a deep sniff. There was no mistaking it – it was indeed Robusta. He glanced back at Gruff, meeting his goat friend’s seemingly smug gaze with shocked eyes. "Well, you're full of surprises, aren't you?" He murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.

Gruff inclined his head.

Joe contemplated. "Its not that I'm not grateful, mate, I am. but we're out of beans, and processing these coffee cherries will take weeks." Joe could already feel the onset of a caffeine withdrawal headache coming on.

Gruff's response was a decisive bleat. Suddenly, the heap of his two disciples stirred, and they emerged from their slumber. They stretched, yawned and lumbered over to Joe, each carrying a flask. The flasks were metallic and ingrained with a fine filligree.

Uncorking them, an aroma wafted out, ticking Joe's nostrils. The smell was enough to make his stomach churn, but there was a familiarity to it that triggered his cognition. He took a hesitant sip and gagged. It was cold, and not the good kind of cold brew. It was the kind of cold one would associate with a forgotten cup of coffee left on a window sill. It tasted worse than any coffee he had ever had, but it was undeniably coffee. Looking at Gruff with a forced smile, he rasped, "Well, I suppose it's better than no coffee."

With a shrug, Joe decided to make the best of the situation. He reached for three rusted tin cups that were stacked next to the doorway. After a quick rinse, he filled each cup to the brim with the questionable coffee from the flasks. One of the cups was a tad smaller, its edges dented and worn from years of use. That one, he filled a little less, the coffee sloshing around as he moved. He placed the cups on the ground before Gruff and the two disciples. "Enjoy," he said, attempting a smile as the goats looked at him with their beady eyes. Each dipped their snouts into the cups, the metallic clink echoing lightly in the morning air, a soundtrack to their unlikely bonding over a cup of, well, goat-brewed coffee.

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Joe pondered over the flask, flipping it upside down in his hands, his eyes narrowing at the distinct engraving at its bottom: 'The King'. His brows furrowed in confusion. He turned to look at Gruff, who was still sipping his coffee with an air of satisfaction. "Gruff," he began, a quizzical tone to his voice, "you don't know the king, what's this about?"

Gruff lifted his head from the tin cup, rivulets of coffee trailing down his chin. The goat looked up at Joe, a mischievous gleam in his eyes that could only be described as a smile. It was a look that told Joe more about his goat companion's escapades than words ever could. The silence of the morning was punctuated only by the soft clink of empty cups. The mystery of 'The King' and the origin of the robusta beans, it seemed, was a tale that would unfold in its own sweet time.

Joe rubbed his hands together, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He gestured for Gruff and the disciples to gather around. "Alright, mates," he began, his voice full of excitement, "We're going to need a few things to set up our coffee cherry processing plant." He started listing out the materials, using a stick to sketch rough diagrams in the dirt. "First, we'll need a Pulper to remove the outer skin of the coffee cherries, and yes, it's as fun as it sounds to use." He grinned, seeing the intrigued glances of the goats. "Then, we'll need some fermentation tanks where the cherries will rest and ferment. After that, it's onto the washing station to cleanse the fermented beans." He paused, his gaze lingering on the robusta plants. "Finally, we'll set up drying beds to dry the beans in the sunlight." He looked up at his unlikely crew, an encouraging smile on his face. "It's going to be a lot of work, but I reckon we can do it. What do ya say, mates?"

The goats all nodded with serious expressions. The young disciples paid far more attention today, their eyes showing clear sparks of intelligence.

Joe studied the coffee and tapped the goat pendant on his chest. He was beginning to grasp the laws and magic of this world. He needed to confirm his hypothesis though.

With a determined glance towards Gruff, Joe set off towards the town, the reliable goat at his side. It was an unusual sight in itself, Gruff was often content to stay at the farm, his domain. But today, curiosity seemed to have gotten the better of him. The path was familiar, the town's hustle and bustle gradually growing louder as they approached.

As they neared the docks, a crowd began to form, a sea of heads bobbing and whispering. From a distance, it was hard to see what was attracting the attention, but as they got closer, the sight that met their eyes was unmistakable. Joe let out a sharp whistle, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. There, clinging to a boat's prow, was Akio, stripped down to his undies. A massive purple bruise had crept over his jaw and neck, perhaps he'd stumbled and fallen last night? He looked ridiculous, his face a mix of embarrassment and defiance. The crowd didn't seem to know what to do, their wide-eyed stares and mumbles of confusion adding to the comic tableau.

Without missing a beat, Joe nudged a burly man next to him, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Is this some sort of fancy cultivation technique?" he asked, pointing towards Akio. The crowd, hearing his words, seized upon the idea. Murmurs of speculation rippled through the onlookers. "Must be training, y'know, building stamina, increasing endurance," one man suggested, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "No, it's exposure to the elements. Helps to harden the body and mind," chimed in another.

A shrill voice from the back piped up, "Nah, it's cold tolerance. Bet he can withstand any temperature now!" The crowd, now fully engaged, began debating these theories, their voices growing louder. One elderly woman, clutching her cane tightly, squinted at Akio, her lips pursing in thought. "Or, y'know, he could just be a lightning rod," she said, her statement met with a stunned silence, before the crowd erupted into laughter, Akio's predicament momentarily forgotten in the wake of their mirth. His face turned an even deeper shade of red at the comment, but he stubbornly clung to the prow, refusing to acknowledge the crowd's uncontrolled laughter echoing around him.

Joe, his curiosity piqued, made his way through the crowd, Gruff obediently at his side. As he neared Akio, he couldn't help but chuckle at the scene. "Hey mate, is this some sort of fancy cultivator training?" Joe asked, his tone light, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Akio, who was about to shoot a lightning bolt at this audacious man, froze as his gaze fell on Gruff. The sight of the goat seemed to drain the color from his face, his eyes widening in recognition and fear. He quickly retracted his cultivation energy, the lightning fizzling out before it could form. "Ah, yes…yes, it is indeed...training," he stammered, his previous defiance replaced with a sheepish grin. His gaze kept darting towards Gruff. The crowd around them erupted into another round of laughter, their earlier theories now validated, and the spectacle of Akio's 'training' became the talking point of the day.

Joe nodded. 'Come on folks, we best leave him to it then.'

Akio paused, his gaze falling on Joe before quickly darting back to Gruff. He cleared his throat, a slight tremor to his voice as he spoke. "Yes....no need to help me down. Perhaps..." he trailed off, his eyes squinting as if focusing on the middle distance. He swallowed, his voice taking on a more confident tone when he resumed. "Perhaps you could fetch my uncle. He'd be able to assist with my...meditation." His words hung in the air for a moment, just long enough for Joe to share a quick glance with Gruff. The crowd, momentarily stymied, quickly picked up on the idea, murmuring approvingly.

Joe nodded, the twinkle in his eye replaced with a look of respect. "Truly wise, Azza," he said.