Spirit Plant Entry: Immortality Begins with Farming

Changchun is collapsing.

Chen Yuan stood at the edge of the blood pool, watching the seven skeletons at the bottom of the pool turn to ashes in the raging fire.

The Chaos Crystal in his right hand had shattered completely, with fragments embedded in his palm flesh, glowing faintly with each breath, like the pulse of a dying person.

"You burned my roots."

Mu Shoujing's voice came from deep within the flames.

He walked over the burning remains of spiritual plants, the hem of his dark blue Taoist robe charred and curled, but his steps were steady, so steady that he didn't seem like someone whose grotto was being destroyed beneath his feet.

He stopped ten steps in front of Chen Yuan.

"Three hundred years," Mu Shoujing said. "I spent three hundred years building Changchun Realm, cultivating spiritual plants, and setting up a grand array. You spent three hours burning it to ashes."

Chen Yuan wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. The blood was dark red and contained fragments of internal organs.

"Master taught well," he said in a hoarse voice. "To destroy something, you have to destroy it from the root."

"Did I teach you this?"

"You taught me," Chen Yuan raised his head and stared at Mu Shoujing, "that the greatest fear on the path of cultivation is hesitation."

Flames surged between the two, the heat distorting their vision.

Mu Shoujing laughed, his laughter dry and strained: "So you didn't hesitate to inject your own life essence into the earth's veins, risking your life for my Everlasting Spring Realm?"

"It's not just Changchun Realm that's been changed," Chen Yuan said. "What's changed is that there won't be an eighth skeleton added to the Blood Pool, and the Medicine Valley won't accept a ninth 'closed-door disciple'."

He paused.

"In exchange, you'll lose your life."

The smile on Mu Shoujing's face faded.

He looked down at his chest—the hole was widening, and the flesh around the edges was like burnt paper ash, scattering away in a flurry.

"My life," he said slowly, "should have ended three hundred years ago."

"Then why bother living?" Chen Yuan asked. "By sucking the blood of your disciples, by refining the living into crystals, by barely surviving in this pile of corpses—is there any point in living like this?"

"It's meaningless," Mu Shoujing replied quickly. "But death is even more meaningless."

He took two steps forward, and the flames retreated at his feet, as if in fear of something.

"Chen Yuan, how old are you this year? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? You haven't even lived a fraction of my age, you haven't tasted what it's like to watch yourself rot away day by day, you haven't experienced the feeling of clearly touching the threshold of the Nascent Soul stage but being unable to cross it no matter what—"

He paused, seemingly searching for the right word.

"That kind of despair," he said, "is like falling into a well. There's light at the top, and you desperately try to climb out, scratching yourself until your nails bleed and breaking your bones. But the well walls are too slippery; you climb an inch, then slip two inches. After thirty years, you're still at the bottom."

Chen Yuan remained silent.

"So I stopped climbing later," Mu Shoujing continued. "I laid out a bed at the bottom of the well, lit a lamp, and found a few people to lie with me. When they died, I could step on their bones and move up an inch more."

He walked to the edge of the blood pool and watched as the last remaining fragments of bones at the bottom were engulfed by flames.

"When Liu Muyun died, I had five years of life extended. Zhao Hongyu died, another three years. Sun Hai..." He paused, "Sun Hai could have given me ten years, but he poisoned me, so I only had seven months left."

"So you hate him?" Chen Yuan asked.

"Hate?" Mu Shoujing thought for a moment. "No, I don't hate him. If I were him, I would have poisoned him too. I just feel it's a pity—such good aptitude, such a smart mind. If he had just let me take his life force, maybe I could have broken through to the Nascent Soul stage with his help. Then..."

"Then we can live openly and honestly?" Chen Yuan asked, "without having to hide in this cave and rely on my disciple's blood to survive?"

Mu Shoujing turned to look at him.

The two looked at each other.

Flames crackled and popped all around.

"Chen Yuan," Mu Shoujing suddenly asked, "if you were stuck at the late Golden Core stage for three hundred years, your lifespan nearing its end, your spiritual root withered, and you faced two choices—one, death; two, to extract the life force of one of your disciples to prolong your life. Which would you choose?"

Chen Yuan remained silent.

"Can't choose?" Mu Shoujing laughed. "Then I'll help you choose. You'll hesitate for three days, and then on the third night, you'll sneak into your disciple's room, place your hand on his skull, tremble, sweat, and in the end, you still can't bring yourself to do it. You'll slap yourself, call yourself a beast, and kneel on the ground crying."

He took a step closer.

"Then on the fourth day, you will try again. On the fifth day, try again. By the tenth day, your hand will stop shaking. By the thirtieth day, you will be able to extract his life force while saying to him, 'Master is doing this for your own good; your life force can be of greater use to me.'"

He took another step closer.

"That's just how people are." He stopped in front of Chen Yuan, the two separated only by a wall of fire. "The first time you kill someone, your hands tremble; the tenth time, you can count your heartbeats and keep track of time."

Chen Yuan stared at him for a long time before speaking.

"Master."

"Um?"

"When you were drawing blood from Sun Haisheng," Chen Yuan asked slowly, "did you count his heartbeats?"

Mu Shoujing's smile froze.

Flames suddenly erupted.

It wasn't a natural combustion, but an eruption driven by some force—a chaotic tongue of fire shot up three zhang high, completely separating the two.

On the other side of the wall of fire, Mu Shoujing's figure was distorted and blurred in the heat wave.

"Chen Yuan." His voice came through the flames, hoarse and cold, "Give me the crystal."

"What?"

"That Chaos Divine Crystal in your hand," Mu Shoujing said, "is shattered, but its essence remains. Give it to me, and I'll let you die a quick death."

Chen Yuan looked down at his right palm.

Crystal fragments were embedded in flesh and blood, and a faint gray light leaked out from the cracks, but it was still flickering.

"If I give it to you," he looked up, "will you live?"

"It will allow me to live a few more years," Mu Shoujing said calmly, "enough time for me to find my next disciple and rebuild Changchun Realm."

"and then?"

"Then keep living," Mu Shoujing said, "live until you find the true way to immortality, live until you break through to the Nascent Soul stage, live until... you no longer need to rely on other people's lives to prolong your own."

Chen Yuan smiled.

The laughter was very soft, almost inaudible amidst the crackling of the flames.

"Master," he said, "have you ever wondered why Sun Haining would soak in the blood pool for thirty years but refuse to give you a chance to live?"

The figure on the other side of the flames paused.

"Because he knows," Chen Yuan answered himself, "that if he gives it to you, you'll go find the next Sun Hai. And the next. And the next. As long as you live, the bones in the blood pool will only increase."

He raised his right hand and opened his palm.

The fragments of the Chaos God Crystal glowed faintly in the firelight.

"So this crystal," Chen Yuan said, emphasizing each word, "cannot be given to you."

As soon as he finished speaking, he took out the disciple token from his pocket with his left hand—it was carved from green jade, with "Flying Feather" engraved on the front and "Quiet" engraved on the back.

Mu Shoujing's voice suddenly rose: "Chen Yuan, think this through—"

Chen Yuan didn't let him finish speaking.

Tighten your fingers.

The jade pendant shattered in my palm. Not into pieces, but into powder. The powder of the green jade fell through my fingers, mixed into the burning soil, and was instantly engulfed by the flames.

He betrayed his master.

The Flying Feather Sect has been established for seven hundred years. Those who betray their masters will have their souls extracted and their spirits refined, and will be eternally imprisoned in the netherworld.

Mu Shoujing, on the other side of the flames, fell silent.

After a long while, he spoke, his voice very soft.

"it is good."

Just one word.

Then the flames exploded.

Instead of spreading outwards, it converged on Chen Yuan—the chaotic flames twisted into one, like a giant burning python, opening its mouth and lunging at him.

Inside the giant python's mouth was that withered spiritual root.

The spiritual root pulsed at the core of the flame, and with each pulse, it absorbed a large amount of life force from the surrounding area, causing the flame to dim.

Mu Shoujing's last trump card—using his natal spiritual root as a catalyst, he drained the last bit of life from Changchun Realm in a desperate gamble.

Chen Yuan did not dodge.

He can't escape it.

The body, depleted of vital essence, felt like it was filled with lead; every inch of movement was excruciatingly painful.

All he could do was raise his right hand, palm facing the onrushing fire python.

The fragments of the Chaos Divine Crystal were burning hot in my palm.

It was so hot it felt like it was burning through my skin.

He closed his eyes and squeezed out the last bit of five-colored star power—not from his dantian, but from the depths of his bone marrow, from every inch of his tempered bones—and poured it into the crystal fragments.

The fragments lit up.

It wasn't gray light, but silvery-white light, pure and cold, like starlight in the dead of night.

In the light, a small flame suddenly burst into flame.

It's very small, only the size of a grain of rice.

But the temperature was terrifyingly high—the air around the flames instantly distorted and evaporated, forming a vacuum vortex. The vortex expanded, engulfing the onrushing fire pythons, devouring the flames, devouring everything.

Starfire.

A true flame fueled by the very essence of the stars.

The fire python crashed into the vortex.

There was no loud noise, no explosion. Only a faint sizzling sound, like a red-hot iron block being pressed into snow. The fire python struggled, twisted, and evaporated in the vortex, its body thinning and fading at a visible speed.

The withered spiritual root in the python's heart throbbed wildly, trying to absorb the life force of the starlight.

But fire has no vitality.

Fire only brings destruction.

The spiritual root began to burn. Not from the outside in, but from the inside out—silver flames burst forth from every fiber inside the spiritual root, instantly turning it into a charred piece.

The fire python dissipated.

The chaotic flames receded like a tide, revealing Mu Shoujing's figure behind them.

He stood there, looking down at his chest.

The cavity had expanded to the size of a bowl, and the flesh and blood at its edges were turning into ashes, drifting away in a soft rustling sound.

He raised his head and looked at Chen Yuan.

Chen Yuan was still standing, but his body was swaying. The silvery starlight had been extinguished, and the crystal fragment in his palm had completely dimmed, turning into ordinary pebbles.

"Chen Yuan," Mu Shoujing called out.

The sound was very soft, almost drowned out by the sound of the collapse.

Chen Yuan did not respond.

He gritted his teeth, used the last of his strength, turned around, and walked towards the wooden door.

One step, two steps.

As I took the third step, I heard Mu Shoujing's voice from behind.

"if……"

Chen Yuan stopped but didn't turn around.

"If I hadn't practiced the 'Yi Wood Longevity Technique' back then," Mu Shoujing said, her voice growing weaker, "if I hadn't gone to that secret realm, if I hadn't embarked on this path... tell me, where would I be now?"

Chen Yuan remained silent for a long time.

"Master," he finally spoke, "there are no 'ifs'."

A soft laugh came from behind.

It's very light and faint.

Then it became completely quiet.

Chen Yuan continued walking forward. When he reached the wooden door, the door panel had already collapsed from the fire, leaving only the charred frame. He stepped over it and entered the stairwell.

The passage was collapsing, the glowing minerals on the walls were exploding one by one, and rubble was raining down. He covered his head and rushed down, reaching the doorway in the rock wall—

The door was closed.

He tried to push him away with his shoulder, but couldn't. He tried to punch him, but couldn't. A wave of weakness washed over him as his life force was depleted, and his vision began to blur.

He leaned against the door and slid down to sit on the floor.

I'm going to die here.

he thinks.

So be it. To die in Changchun, keeping company with those seven skeletons, is a fitting end.

Just before I closed my eyes, the door suddenly opened.

It didn't open from the inside, but from the outside—the rock walls rippled like water, parting to reveal the night view of the Medicine Valley outside.

In the night breeze, Bai Zhi stood there, holding a green lamp in her hands.

The light inside wasn't fire, but a soft, silvery-white glow.

The power of the stars.

"Grandpa in the gray robe gave it to me." Bai Zhi quickly walked over and helped Chen Yuan up. "He said that this can open the door once."

Chen Yuan opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Bai Zhi helped him up and staggered out. The moment they stepped out of the rock wall gate, a final, deafening roar echoed behind them—

Changchun territory has completely collapsed.

The rock face closed up perfectly, leaving no trace.

Chen Yuan slumped to the ground, looking up at the sky.

The night sky was cloudless, and the Milky Way shone brightly.

"Let's go," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Where to?" Bai Zhi asked.

"I don't know." Chen Yuan coughed up blood. "Leave the Flying Feather Sect first, the farther the better."

Bai Zhi nodded, helped him up, and walked deeper into the Medicine Valley.

The two figures disappeared into the night.

About half an incense stick later, several streaks of light broke through the air and landed in front of the cliff.

Leading the group was Jiang Tianzheng. He wore the dark robes of the Discipline Hall, his face solemn. He raised his hand and pressed it against the rock wall—it was icy cold to the touch, the blue rock was hard, and there was no trace of spiritual energy fluctuation.

Changchun Realm, along with Mu Shoujing within it, disappeared.

"Master," a deacon behind him asked in a low voice, "Should we give chase?"

Jiang Tianzheng didn't speak. He squatted down and picked up a clump of soil from the ground—the soil was mixed with dark red blood residue and a very faint, silvery-white speck of light.

Remnants of the power of stars.

He stared at that point of light for a long time before standing up.

"Issue the order," he said slowly, "Elder Mu Shoujing is in seclusion, and Changchun Realm is sealed off. His disciples Chen Yuan and Bai Zhi have gone out for training, and their return date is uncertain."

"But these marks—"

"The marks were caused by the instability of the Changchun Realm formation, which collapsed on its own." Jiang Tianzheng interrupted him, his gaze sweeping over everyone present. "Did everyone understand?"

Everyone fell silent, then bowed in unison: "Understood."

Jiang Tianzheng took one last look at the cliff, then turned and vanished in a flash of light.

The night wind blew, stirring up the bloodstains and ashes on the ground.

Soon, nothing was left.