Spirit Plant Entry: Immortality Begins with Farming

At the crack of dawn, Chen Yuan opened his eyes.

He stared at the blackened thatch above his head for a long time before slowly sitting up.

The wooden bed creaked under the weight of the dampness, and the bedding was so damp it could be wrung out. This was always the case during the rainy season in the southern wilderness; the dampness was everywhere, as if it could soak the very bones of a person.

The sound of splashing water came from outside the window, followed by a woman's soft humming, with a deliberately drawn-out ending.

Chen Yuan didn't need to look to know that it was Widow Li from next door washing up. This woman had moved in less than half a year ago, but she had already become the name that the male cultivators in the shantytown talked about most often at night.

He put on the faded blue cloth shirt, the cuffs of which were frayed. As he put it on, his fingers touched a hard object at his waist, a palm-sized wooden plaque with the words "Chen Yuan" engraved on the front and the cloud pattern mark of the Flying Feather Sect on the back.

Five years ago, he was sent here by his family wearing this sign.

Pushing open the old wooden door, the morning mist rushed in.

The shantytowns on the outskirts of Qingyangfang are most vibrant at dawn, with smoke rising from dozens of crooked wooden houses, mingling with the mist and weaving a gray, hazy net overhead.

Early risers had already set up stalls along the roadside, selling the cheapest talismans, inferior pills, and unknown herbs dug up from the mountains.

"Fellow Daoist Chen, are you collecting spirit rice today?"

The person who greeted me was a hunchbacked old man, squatting at his doorstep smoking a pipe. The flame in his pipe flickered in the mist, reflecting on his deeply lined face.

His surname is Zhao, and everyone calls him Old Zhao. He has lived in the shantytown for more than ten years, and his cultivation level is stuck at the third level of Qi Refining, with no further progress.

"Yes." Chen Yuan nodded. "Is Old Zhao not going to the fields today?"

Old Zhao exhaled a puff of smoke. "Go, wait until the fog clears up a bit. I heard that Fan the Skinflint went there early this morning. Be careful, that guy's been really ruthless lately."

Chen Yuan thanked him and continued walking.

Fan Bapi, whose real name is Fan Datong, is the overseer of this spiritual field. He has the cultivation level of Qi Refining Level 6 and holds the title of steward in the outer sect of the Flying Feather Sect, where he is in charge of the independent cultivators who rent the land.

This person is greedy and always tries to squeeze more money out of others during harvest season.

The roads in the shantytown are muddy; it had just rained last night, and they made a squelching sound when you stepped on them.

Chen Yuan carefully avoided the puddles, his gaze sweeping over the low houses on both sides. Most of these houses were built of rough wood, with thatched roofs or animal hides on top, and mud stuffed into the cracks in the walls.

Some families have set aside small vegetable plots in front of their houses, growing lamb's quarters or yams, which are the easiest crops to grow and require the least care.

This is the lowest level of the cultivation world in the Southern Wilderness.

They lacked the elegance of soaring through the air on a sword, and the supernatural power to overturn rivers and seas. All they had was toiling away every day for a few spirit stones and fighting tooth and nail for a little bit of cultivation resources.

Five years ago, when he first transmigrated here, Chen Yuan dreamed of living a carefree and immortal life, but now reality has worn him down to just a thin shell.

He came from a place called Earth, a world without spiritual energy where people lived by technology and had a lifespan of no more than a hundred years. At the beginning of his transmigration, he thought he was the chosen one, destined to make a name for himself in this world of cultivation.

Until the four spiritual roots were detected.

Until he was abandoned by his family and sent to this desolate land to serve as a "reclaimer" for sixty years, until he had been cultivating in the spirit fields for five years, his cultivation was stuck at the second level of Qi Refining, and he could hardly make any further progress.

Stepping out of the shantytown, the view suddenly opened up.

The Qingyang Mountains stretched out in front of us like a green barrier.

The mountain has been terraced, stretching from the foot of the mountain all the way to the middle of the mountain. The morning light tears through the clouds and shines on the golden rice, creating shimmering waves. From a distance, it really does have a fairy-like atmosphere.

But Chen Yuan knew the bitterness behind that golden light.

The spirit rice is divided into nine grades, and they grow the lowest grade, yellow-sprout rice, which is harvested three times a year, yielding only a few dozen catties per mu, and they also have to hand over 70% as tax.

Of the remaining 30%, half is used to buy seeds and fertilizer, and the other half is used to buy pills and talismans. The amount that actually ends up in my pocket is negligible.

His three mu of land was located in the most remote part of the western slope, where the soil was thin and the spiritual energy was weak. When he walked to the edge of the field, his trouser legs were already soaked with dew from the grass.

Chen Yuan put down the spirit hoe, squatted down, and grabbed a handful of soil.

The soil is yellowish and coarse, and you can feel a faint flow of spiritual energy at your fingertips, like the faint pulse of a dying person.

The yellow seedlings sown last year have already sprouted ears, but the ears are sparse and pale in color, looking like they have scabies from a distance.

"It still doesn't work."

Chen Yuan sighed, took out a small cloth bag from his pocket, inside were nine low-grade spirit stones he had saved for three months. He weighed them in his hand, then carefully stuffed them back into his pocket.

To reach the second level of the Spirit Rain Technique, he would need to buy at least a copy of "Detailed Explanation of the Cloud and Water Technique," which costs thirty spirit stones in the market. He would need to save up for another six months.

Without the second level of the Spirit Rain Technique, not enough spiritual energy can be attracted, the spirit rice won't grow well, the harvest will be poor, and taxes won't be paid...

Vicious circle.

Chen Yuan stood up and looked up at the mountainside, where clouds and mist swirled, and the outlines of pavilions and towers could be vaguely seen. These were the residences of the outer disciples of the Flying Feather Sect.

It is said that the spiritual fields there are all top-quality fertile land, with special people setting up spirit-gathering arrays, and the spiritual rice can yield up to five bushels per mu.

"Comparing yourself to others will only make you miserable."

Chen Yuan chuckled self-deprecatingly, picked up his spirit hoe, and went down to the field.

By the time the sun reached its zenith, he had already harvested half an acre.

Sweat slid down his forehead and dripped into the soil. With his Qi Refining Level 2 cultivation, his physical strength was not much stronger than that of an ordinary person. Doing this kind of farm work still made him sore and tired.

Chen Yuan straightened up, wiped his face with his sleeve, and his gaze inadvertently swept over the edge of the field, where a few clumps of wild grass grew, stubbornly surviving on the edge of the spirit field.

One of them was quite special; its leaves were tinged with a very faint golden hue, almost invisible in the sunlight.

Chen Yuan hadn't paid any attention and was about to look away when he suddenly stopped.

Because above that weed, several lines of small characters appeared out of thin air:

[Name]: Golden Thread Grass (Wild Variety)

[Entry]: Faint spiritual energy (extractable)

[Status]: Mature

Chen Yuan blinked.

The words are still there.

He rubbed his eyes hard, then opened them again.

The words are still there!

My heart skipped a beat.

He held his breath, slowly squatted down, and reached out to touch the grass. As soon as his fingertips touched the leaves, the few lines of small characters suddenly twisted and shrank, turning into a glimmer of light that entered his brow.

At the same time, a warm current rose from his dantian.

It was very faint, like a breath of white air in winter, but Chen Yuan could clearly feel that it was spiritual energy, pure spiritual energy that did not need to be refined, which flowed directly into his meridians.

He stood there, stunned, his mind blank.

It took a full ten breaths before he suddenly came to his senses.

Goldfinger?

Five years after time travel, has the cheat code finally arrived?

Chen Yuan's hands began to tremble. He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down. He glanced around at the spiritual rice in the fields, the wild grass by the roadside, and the trees in the distance... but no words appeared on any of them.

There is only this one.

His throat bobbed, and then he carefully dug up the clump of golden thread grass by the roots, holding it in his hands to examine it closely. The grass leaves were slender, and the veins were indeed tinged with gold, but apart from that, it was no different from ordinary weeds.

"Entry extraction..."

Chen Yuan muttered to himself, trying to call out in his mind.

The next moment, he saw a strange space, gray and boundless, with a translucent leaf floating in the very center.

The leaves were white, as thin as cicada wings, with a faint shimmering light on their surface. When Chen Yuan focused his consciousness on them, he immediately understood their purpose:

【Weak Spiritual Energy】: After use, you will receive spiritual energy equivalent to three days of arduous cultivation.

With a single thought, the leaves vanished.

The warm current reappeared, even more pronounced than before, slowly flowing along the meridians.

Chen Yuan immediately sat down cross-legged and activated his family's "Long Breath Technique." His spiritual energy was rapidly refined and channeled into his dantian, causing his previously stagnant cultivation to begin to loosen slightly.

Half an hour later, Chen Yuan opened his eyes, a glint of light flashing in them.

Although he was still far from breaking through to the third level of Qi Refining, this spiritual energy was at least equivalent to his previous half-month of arduous cultivation. More importantly, he seemed to have found a way to break the deadlock.

"If we could find more plants with entries related to them..."

Chen Yuan stood up, his gaze sweeping intently across the entire spirit field. The yellow rice swayed in the wind, and wild grass grew wildly along the field ridges; everything was as usual.

But he knew things were different now.

As the sun set, Chen Yuan returned to the shantytown carrying half a bag of spirit rice.

He deliberately slowed his pace, his gaze carefully sweeping over every plant along the roadside.

The gray-leafed vegetables in the garden, the moss sprouting from the corner of the wall, and even the withered vines hanging from the eaves showed no abnormalities.

It seems that the probability of this term appearing is extremely low.

When I passed by Widow Li's house, the gate was open, and the woman was washing clothes by the well, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing two sections of her white arms.

Seeing Chen Yuan pass by, she looked up and smiled sweetly:

"Fellow Daoist Chen, are you done with your work? How was today's harvest?"

"It's acceptable," Chen Yuan replied briefly, without stopping.

"I've made some pheasant soup, would you like to come in and have a bowl?" The voice was soft and sweet, carrying a certain hint.

"Thank you, but no need."

Chen Yuan quickened his pace, feeling the gaze behind him, like a hook dipped in honey.

In this shantytown, for a female cultivator to survive, she either needs power or a powerful backer. Widow Li chose the latter. He didn't despise her, but he didn't want to get involved either.

Back in my cabin, I closed the door, and the world suddenly became quiet.

Chen Yuan poured the spirit rice into the earthenware jar, looking at the golden grains and making plans in his mind.

Today we harvested about 80 catties. According to the rules, we have to pay 56 catties as tax. We have 24 catties left. We will keep 10 catties for food and exchange the rest for 9 spirit stones.

Adding the original nine pieces, it's estimated that there will be around eighteen pieces.

I'm still twelve yuan short of my goal of thirty yuan.

He sat down at the table, spread out paper and pen, and began to record his discoveries of the day.

"Golden Thread Grass, a wild variant, with golden veins on its leaves. Its attribute is 'weak spiritual energy,' granting three days' worth of cultivation upon use. No similar plants in the vicinity exhibit this characteristic, suggesting that the probability of this attribute appearing is extremely low, or that specific conditions are required..."

He paused here.

condition?

What conditions?

He recalled the subtle sensation he felt when touching the golden thread grass; it seemed cooler than ordinary grass leaves, and the almost invisible golden veins...

"Perhaps it needs nourishment from spiritual energy? Or... a mutation?"

Chen Yuan rubbed his temples. There was too little information to make a judgment. But one thing was certain: he had to plant more plants to increase the probability of triggering the relevant keywords.

Only yellow-sprout rice can be grown in the spirit fields; this is a rule of the Flying Feather Sect. But in one's own courtyard...

Chen Yuan pushed open the back door and looked at the abandoned vegetable garden, which was about two zhang square. The soil was even worse than that of the spirit field, and ordinary vegetables could not grow well. However, if it was irrigated with the Spirit Rain Technique, perhaps some low-level spirit plants could be grown.

Chen Yuan gradually formed a plan in his mind.

First, improve the soil by planting some easy-to-grow spiritual herbs. While observing the patterns in the appearance of the inscriptions, accumulate resources. Once you have enough spirit stones, buy the "Detailed Explanation of the Cloud and Water Technique," and practice the Spirit Rain Technique to level two to increase the yield of your spiritual fields. And then...

He looked out the window.

As dusk settled, the Qingyang Mountains disappeared into darkness, with only a few lights shining on the mountainside—the residences of the outer disciples, a place that had once been beyond my reach.

But now, things are different.

Chen Yuan clenched his fist.

Five years have passed, and now we finally see a glimmer of hope.