Spirit Plant Entry: Immortality Begins with Farming

The split cloud glides above the cloud layer.

The wind flows through its skeleton, producing a low, continuous hum, like some kind of ancient ballad.

The edges of the feather-like airflow were tinged with gold and red by the setting sun, and with each flap, it scattered fine dust of light that drifted down into the vast sea of ​​clouds below.

Bai Zhi sat in front, her hand tightly gripping a bone spur. Her hair was blown back by the wind, the ends almost transparent in the light.

"Where are we going?" she called back, her voice broken and fragmented in the wind.

Chen Yuan sat in the back, watching the mountain outlines below gradually darken.

In his sea of ​​consciousness, the newly appeared cyan vortex was slowly rotating. With each rotation, a cool aura flowed into his meridians, repairing the last remaining hidden injuries.

"Westward," he said.

"What's to the west?" This time it was Lieyun who asked, his voice ringing directly in Lieyun's mind.

"have no idea."

Lieyun's wings paused for a moment: "...You don't know?"

"Hmm." Chen Yuan looked up at the horizon—the setting sun was burning the clouds into a golden-red sea of ​​fire. "But the east is where we came from, the north is the territory of the Blood Fiend Sect, and the south is a mortal town. Only the west is a place we haven't been to."

He paused:

"Places you've never been to are the ones that are truly interesting."

Lieyun remained silent for a few moments.

Then it suddenly turned to the side, its huge body drawing an arc in the air, and the blue air currents and feathers stretched out long tails of light as it turned.

The setting sun shines from the side, gilding its frame with a layer of flowing gold.

"Then let's go west," it said, its voice carrying a long-lost, almost joyful emotion. "Anyway, the world is vast, where can't we go?"

It began to descend.

It didn't plummet straight down; instead, it spiraled and glided downwards in circles, like a giant falling leaf.

The clouds flowed past them, water vapor condensing on the framework of the split clouds, then sliding away along the patterns of the airflow, leaving behind glistening watermarks.

Bai Zhi reached out and caught a drop of water that drifted by.

"It's cold," she said softly.

"The clouds are all cool," said Lieyun. "But once you pass through the clouds, the air below is warm—the earth's energy rises, and the sunlight falls, mixing together in the middle, neither too hot nor too cold, just right."

Chen Yuan glanced at it: "You know a lot."

"Nonsense." Lieyun's one eye glanced at him. "Eight hundred years ago, I flew in the sky for ten hours every day. I could tell with my eyes closed which cloud would bring rain, which cloud would bring thunder, and which cloud was just for show."

Its wings adjusted their angle again, and it began to descend properly.

The clouds closed in overhead, the light dimmed for a moment, and then suddenly the sky cleared up again.

Below is a mountain.

But it wasn't the same gray-black, menacing barren mountain as before.

The mountains are bluish-gray, one after another, like solidified waves of the sea.

A thin, milky-white mist drifted through the mountains, tinged with a faint golden hue by the setting sun, slowly swaying among the treetops.

And deep within these mountains, there is a gleaming silver light.

It wasn't a reflected sunset—it was spontaneous, soft light, like moonlight settling on the bottom of water, quietly shining in a valley.

"What is that?" Bai Zhi pointed at the light.

The wings of the cloud-splitting creature came to a stop.

It hovered in the air, its feathers fluttering slowly in the air currents, maintaining its balance. Its single, azure eye stared at the light for a very long time.

"...The star fell into the lake," it finally said, its voice very soft, as if afraid of disturbing something.

"A falling star?"

"Hmm." Lieyun began to glide in that direction, slowing down. "Legend has it that many years ago, a star fell from the sky and crashed into these mountains, creating a large crater. Water filled the crater and became a lake."

It paused:

"When that star fell, it didn't shatter; it sank to the bottom of the lake and continues to shine. That's why this lake... is brighter at night than during the day."

Chen Yuan stared at the silver light that was getting closer and closer.

As he got closer, he realized—it was no ordinary lake.

The lake is perfectly round, like a meticulously polished mirror, nestled in the center of the valley.

The lake water was deep blue, almost black, but the silver light shining through from the bottom of the lake illuminated the entire surface with a strange, transparent silvery-blue hue.

The lake shore is covered with fine white sand, the grains of which shimmer like pearls in the sunset.

Along the shore grew a ring of trees that Chen Yuan had never seen before—the trunks were silver-gray, straight and slender, but the crowns were fluffy like clouds, and the leaves were translucent light blue, with each leaf edged with an extremely fine silver border.

The wind blew across the lake, and the leaves rustled, their sound as crisp as jade pieces striking each other.

The cloud spun once over the lake shore, then chose a flat sandy beach and slowly descended.

puff.

Its claws sank into the fine sand with a soft, muffled sound. The air currents dissipated into bluish specks of light before hitting the ground, scattering in the air and leaving a fresh, post-rain scent.

The three landed.

The first thing Bai Zhi did was take off her shoes and socks and step barefoot onto the beach.

"Ah..." she gasped, "This sand... is warm."

It's not just warm. The sand is incredibly fine, like walking on the finest silk, and carries the warmth of sunshine that washes over you from your feet.

She crouched down, scooped up a handful of sand, and let the grains flow through her fingers—in the twilight, the flowing sand looked like liquid silver.

Lieyun walked to the water's edge and lowered his head.

The lake water was frighteningly clear.

You can see right to the bottom—the lakebed isn't silt, but rather smooth, white pebbles, each one polished round by the water flow, covering the entire lakebed. And in the very center of these pebbles, a soft and stable silvery-white light source rests, its exact shape indistinct, simply emitting its light quietly.

The light refracts through the lake water, creating flowing patterns of light on the surface.

Lieyun stretched out its beak and gently touched the water's surface.

Ding.

A crisp, clear sound, like the striking of a jade chime, rippled outwards from the point of contact, spreading outwards in concentric circles, carrying a silvery light. The ripples struck the pebbles on the shore, shattering into even finer specks of light that danced on the water's surface.

"This water..." Lieyun looked up, "is sweet."

"How did you know?" Chen Yuan asked.

"I tasted it," Lieyun said matter-of-factly. "Eight hundred years ago, I was tired from flying, so I looked for a lake like this to drink water. Sweetwater lakes usually have spiritual veins underneath."

It turned its head, its single eye looking at Chen Yuan:

"There's no one here."

Chen Yuan sat down by the lake.

Put your hand into the water—it feels cool but not icy, like the purest spring water.

As the water flows through my fingers, I can feel an extremely faint, gentle energy seeping into my skin.

It is indeed a spiritual vein.

Moreover, it's the kind that's very pure and very ancient.

Bai Zhi sat down beside him, her feet still in the water. She gazed at the lake for a long time, then whispered:

"Like a dream."

"Mm," Chen Yuan replied.

The setting sun slanted in through the mountain pass, dividing the entire lake valley in two—one half bathed in a warm, twilight glow, the other already sank into silvery-blue shadows. The boundary between light and darkness ran precisely across the heart of the lake, like a clearly defined string.

Lieyun paced along the shore.

Its claws left deep footprints in the fine sand, each footprint slowly seeping water that reflected the sunlight. It walked slowly and carefully, as if measuring the land.

"I've seen many lakes," it suddenly said, "big ones, small ones, deep ones, shallow ones, salty ones, fresh ones. But this one is different."

"What's different?" Bai Zhi asked.

The clouds stopped and looked at the light in the center of the lake:

"In other lakes, water is water, and light is light. But in this lake... water and light are intertwined. Look—"

It pointed to the water with its beak.

Chen Yuan followed his gaze. Indeed—the silver light wasn't simply shining up from the lake bottom, but rather integrated into the water. Every drop of water carried light, the light flowing with the water, and the water shining with the light. It was impossible to distinguish which was the carrier and which was the substance.

"I came here eight hundred years ago," said Lieyun, his voice lowering. "Back then, I was young. I flew over these mountains and saw this lake glowing beneath. I wanted to come down and drink some water, but the lake already had an owner."

"What master?" Chen Yuan asked.

"An old turtle." A glint of memory flashed in Lieyun's single eye. "It was very big, and its shell was covered with moss and seaweed. It was lying on the glowing rock in the middle of the lake. When it saw me come down, it looked up at me and said, 'Little Vulture, you can't drink this water. You'll have to pay it back if you do.'"

"and then?"

"Then I left." Lieyun shook his head, and a drop of water flew from the tip of his beak, leaving thin silver threads in the air. "Back then, I still followed the rules. I knew I couldn't just trespass on land that belonged to someone."

It paused:

"Now it seems the old turtle is gone. This lake... is empty."

Dusk was deepening.

The sky shifted from deep blue to inky blue, the first star lit up, then the second, and the third.

But strangely, the light on the lake was not overshadowed by the starlight—in fact, it became even brighter.

The silvery light at the bottom of the lake seemed to be activated by the night, its glow becoming purer and more intense, illuminating the entire valley as if it were daytime, yet soft and not dazzling.

Bai Zhi hugged her knees, staring blankly at the lake.

"Chen Yuan," she suddenly said.

"Um?"

"How long...are we going to stay here?"

Chen Yuan did not answer immediately.

He looked at Lieyun. Lieyun was also looking at him, his single, azure eye reflecting the lake's light and his own shadow.

"How long do you want to stay?" he countered.

Bai Zhi thought for a moment: "I don't know. But this place... is quite nice. Quiet. Beautiful. And—"

She pointed to the lake:

"The spiritual energy in this water is far superior to the broken spirit stones we found in the cave. One day of cultivation here is equivalent to ten days outside."

Lieyun walked over, casting a huge shadow on the beach.

"Then I'll stay here," it said decisively. "Anyway, I need to recuperate. This place has plenty of spiritual energy, which is good for me."

It lay down beside Chen Yuan, its skeleton making a soft "creak" sound as it touched the sand.

The airflow feathers naturally condensed around the body and then slowly dissipated, as rhythmic as breathing.

"But," it added, its one eye turning towards the valley entrance, "this kind of good place won't stay empty forever. We're here today, but tomorrow someone else might come. A demon beast, a cultivator, or something else entirely."

Chen Yuan nodded: "I know."

He stood up, walked to the water's edge, and squatted down.

He reached his hand into the water again, but this time it wasn't to feel, it was to explore.

The power of the silvery stars spread downwards along the water, like countless fine threads, reaching towards the ball of light at the bottom of the lake.

The moment you touch the light—

hum.

A vast and ancient consciousness flowed back along the silk threads.

It wasn't an attack, nor a warning. It was some kind of...dormant pulse. Slow, deep, like the heartbeat of the earth, one beat after another.

Chen Yuan withdrew his hand, his expression slightly hardening.

"What's wrong?" Bai Zhi noticed.

"That light..." Chen Yuan looked at the center of the lake, "...is not a stone."

"What is it?"

"...I don't know." Chen Yuan shook the water off his hands. "But it's sleeping. And it's been sleeping for a very, very long time."

Lieyun's wings trembled.

"Old turtle?" it asked.

"It doesn't seem like it." Chen Yuan walked back to the shore and sat down. "A turtle's consciousness wouldn't be this deep. This feels more like... a mountain spirit? Or something else, something naturally born and nurtured by nature."

Dusk had completely fallen.

The sky turned deep purple, and the stars were densely scattered, but the lake valley remained bright—the lake light and starlight blended together, forming a thin, silvery-blue mist in the air, floating three feet above the ground and flowing slowly.

Bai Zhi took out some dry rations from her storage bag and gave them to Chen Yuan. She then broke off a piece and walked over to Lie Yun:

"Do you...eat dried meat?"

Lieyun looked down at the dark, jerky-like meat in her hand, and the flame in his single eye flickered.

"...Eat," it said, then opened its beak, carefully took the jerky in its mouth, tilted its head back, and swallowed it. As it chewed, the bones collided with its beak, making a "crunching" sound.

"How does it taste?" Chen Yuan asked.

"Salty," Lieyun commented, "and tough. Next time, catch some live prey; I'll eat it raw, and you can cook it."

The three men and the vulture sat by Starfall Lake, sharing simple dry rations.

The lake was as calm as a mirror, reflecting the starry sky, as well as the pale golden skeleton, the blue feathers of the air currents, and the two tiny human figures on the shore.

The wind blew from the other side of the valley, carrying moisture across the lake, the scent of leaves through the woods, and finally gently brushing their faces.

After finishing the last bite, Bai Zhi hugged her knees and softly hummed a little tune.

The tune is old, the words are indistinct, but the melody is soft, like something is being lulled to sleep.

As Lieyun listened, its wings unconsciously and gently patted the beach, creating a slow rhythm.

Chen Yuan leaned against a rock smoothed by the lake water and closed his eyes.

Within the sea of ​​consciousness, five stars quietly revolved.

The newly formed azure vortex slowly rotated, drawing in the pure spiritual energy of the lake with each rotation, transforming it into a gentle force that nourished his parched meridians.

He could feel it—the hidden wounds were healing.

It's slow, but it's definitely healing.

After an unknown amount of time, Bai Zhi stopped humming.

"Chen Yuan," she whispered.

"Um?"

"Do you think...we'll always be like this?"

"What?"

"Three people... oh no, two and a half people." She glanced at Lieyun, "together, we'll wander around, stop whenever we see a nice place, rest a bit, and then continue."

Chen Yuan opened his eyes.

He looked at the lake, at the starry sky, at the huge, now docile vulture beside him, and at the girl with her knees drawn up and her eyes sparkling.

Then he said:

"Won't."

Bai Zhi's shoulders slumped slightly.

"But—" Chen Yuan continued, "as long as we keep walking together, we'll see more places like this. Each one more beautiful, each one more peaceful than the last. Until…"

He paused.

"Until we find a place we no longer want to go."

Bai Zhi remained silent for a while.

Then she smiled, a smile that appeared very gentle in the shimmering lake:

"That would take a very, very long time to find."

"Mmm." Chen Yuan also smiled. "For a very long time."

Lieyun, standing nearby, let out a low, satisfied sigh.

It spread its wings, and the air currents and feathers shimmered with a soft bluish light in the night, like another miniature starry sky.

"Then let's search," it said, its voice carried on the wind, soft but steady. "Anyway, my wings are strong enough to fly far. I'll search with you as long as you live."

The light in the center of the lake seemed to brighten slightly for a moment.

It's like a response.

It was as if the night wind had simply rippled the surface of the water.