Spirit Plant Entry: Immortality Begins with Farming

Chen Yuan closed the door and stood with his back against it for a long time.

The two packets of seeds were tucked into my arms, so light they felt heavy.

He sat back down at the table and opened "Detailed Explanation of the Cloud and Water Technique".

"The clouds move and the rain pours, and the goods are flowing..."

I studied it word by word.

Unlike the tattered family heirloom "Long Breath Technique," this detailed explanation clearly illustrates how spiritual energy flows, how hand seals change, and how acupoints are activated. It includes over a dozen meridian diagrams, meticulously labeled to an extreme degree.

Chen Yuan read and checked the answers simultaneously.

The Spirit Rain Technique at the first level of Qi Refining can only spray three feet of water mist and last for ten breaths.

Where is the problem?

He re-examined himself, as instructed in the book.

Consciousness sank into the sea of ​​consciousness. In the center of the gray mist, the sapling of the word tree hung quietly, its two tender leaves slightly unfurled, shimmering with green light.

Circulate the Spirit Rain Technique.

The spiritual energy originates from the dantian, ascends along the meridians, passes through the Lung Meridian of Hand-Taiyin, and forms a hand seal at the fingertips...

"wrong."

Chen Yuan stopped.

The book states that the key to the Spirit Rain Technique lies in the "mutual generation of clouds and water." The water elemental power must reach the palm and merge with the external water vapor to form a cycle in order to last.

He used to act recklessly—spraying out his spiritual energy as water mist, no wonder he wasted his time and effort.

"It turns out that integration is necessary."

Chen Yuan closed his eyes and started again.

This time, slow down and let the spiritual energy circulate slowly in the Laogong acupoint in your palm, while sensing the thin moisture in the air.

At first, nothing happened.

Only my own spiritual energy was pulsating in my palm, as if separated from the outside world by a membrane.

He's not in a hurry; he's staying calm.

A quarter of an hour, then a quarter of an hour.

When his spiritual energy was almost depleted, he suddenly felt a chill in his palm.

It's not from within—it's external water-based spiritual energy that's been drawn in by the spiritual energy vortex and is seeping in little by little.

Chen Yuan's heart skipped a beat, and he steadied his breathing.

The chill is becoming increasingly noticeable.

At the Laogong acupoint, a tiny vortex formed. At its center was its own spiritual energy, surrounded by drawn-in moisture.

"It's successfully integrated!"

He opened his eyes and made a hand seal.

A mist rose from my palm. It was no longer a thin white vapor, but fine raindrops with pale blue wisps, like the raindrops of a spring morning.

The area was expanded to five feet, and the duration was thirty breaths.

It has more than doubled.

But not enough.

The second level of the Spirit Rain Technique yields "Continuous Drizzle," which covers a distance of one zhang (approximately 3.3 meters), lasts for a hundred breaths, and penetrates three chi (approximately 1.3 meters) into the earth.

Chen Yuan glanced out the window—it was past midnight, less than two hours until dawn.

He gritted his teeth, took out two spirit stones and held them in his hand, and continued.

This time, he tried to expand the cyclone.

The spiritual energy of the spirit stone was fiercely extracted and poured into the meridians. The energy vortex in the palm swelled from the fingernail to the size of a copper coin.

There is also more water vapor mixed in.

The air around him seemed to thicken with dampness. The shantytown was already humid, and now you could see tiny water droplets condensing and falling in the lamplight.

Chen Yuan braced himself against the vortex, trying to find his balance.

If the spiritual energy is too strong, the water vapor will be scared away; if it is too weak, the vortex will dissipate.

Like walking a tightrope.

The oil lamp was about to go out, and the wick was crackling.

Chen Yuan was soaked through, unable to tell whether it was sweat or moisture.

When spiritual energy is about to run out—

"Buzz..."

A vortex of energy rippled through his palm, causing it to swell by a size.

Immediately afterwards, the airflow around us changed. It wasn't the wind, but something more subtle—water-based spiritual energy surged in from all directions, like rivers flowing into the sea, filling the vortex.

At the center of the cyclone, a drop of pale blue water slowly condenses.

It's not ordinary water; it's concentrated water essence.

"Rain Seed!"

Chen Yuan recalled the words from the book: "When the second level of the Spirit Rain Technique is mastered, rain seeds are condensed in the palm of the hand. Using these seeds as a guide, spiritual rain can be summoned."

With a thought, he sent raindrops that transformed into silken threads and fell.

The area is exactly one zhang (approximately 3.3 meters).

The rain falls silently, seeping into the soil three feet deep, carrying with it the pure essence of water.

It became.

The second level of the Spirit Rain Technique.

He broke through the barrier in three hours.

Chen Yuan slumped to the ground, panting heavily, his eyes gleaming.

He looked into his sea of ​​consciousness—the tender leaves of the sapling seemed to have grown a bit, and the veins were a deeper shade of green.

Meanwhile, new information has emerged:

[Spiritual Plant Status Warning]: Can detect abnormalities in spiritual plants within a five-zhang radius (diseases, pests, malnutrition, disordered spiritual energy, etc.), with a brief diagnosis attached.

Chen Yuan grinned.

They came at just the right time.

He glanced at the perilla plant in the corner.

A line of pale yellow text appeared in my field of vision:

[Status Warning]: Mild malnutrition, it is recommended to supplement with fire-element fertilizer.

it works.

Chen Yuan grinned: "At least my three days as a water buffalo weren't for nothing."

Before dawn, Chen Yuan's courtyard gate was pounded on loudly.

When they opened the door, they saw Old Zhao and Widow Li standing outside.

Old Zhao was clutching a cloth bag, his knuckles white.

Widow Li's eyes were red and swollen, and she held the hand of the boy who was as thin as a bamboo pole.

"Come in and talk." Chen Yuan stepped aside.

The two squeezed into the cramped room. Old Zhao put the cloth bundle on the table, making a rustling sound.

"Qingyang rice seeds," the old man's voice was dry and hoarse, "thirty-seven grains. I've been saving them for five years."

Chen Yuan didn't touch the cloth bag: "Old Zhao, what's this—"

"I'm leaving," Old Zhao interrupted him, his cloudy eyes fixed on Chen Yuan. "The list of those to be conscripted—Fan Bapi leaked a bit of the information last night. I'm on it."

The room fell silent for a moment.

Widow Li covered her mouth and swayed slightly. The little boy in her arms seemed to sense something and hugged her leg tightly.

"Grandpa Zhao..." the child called out timidly.

Old Zhao squatted down, his rough hands patting the child's head, and pulled half a hard pancake from his pocket, stuffing it into his hand. The child took it and wolfed it down.

"I'm sixty-seven, and I've been stuck at the third level of Qi Refining for twenty-three years." Old Zhao stood up, looking at Chen Yuan, "But this child is only three years old. His mother's two acres of land are all ruined, she can't pay taxes, and she'll be on the list at the end of the year too."

Widow Li's tears finally fell, streaming silently down her face.

Chen Yuan's throat tightened: "So you gave me the seeds?"

"I'll let you plant it," Old Zhao said. "Qingyang rice is valuable; one season's harvest is enough to pay her family's taxes for two years. But you have to promise me one thing—after the harvest, you'll give her half."

"And what about you?"

"Me?" Old Zhao forced a smile, his wrinkles forming a bitter curve. "My share, exchange it for spirit stones for the child. I'm going to the mine; I won't need these anymore."

Widow Li knelt down with a thud: "Uncle Zhao, I can't accept this..."

"Get up!" Old Zhao's voice suddenly turned stern. "Are you still talking about these empty words at a time like this? I have no children, so if I die, I die. You have to live and raise the children."

Chen Yuan looked at the packet of seeds on the table.

Thirty-seven grains, light as a feather, yet so heavy they nearly crushed the table.

"The growing season for Qingyang rice is four months," he said. "There are only twenty days left for the conscription; it's too late."

"Then plant something else!" Old Zhao said urgently, "Yellow sprout rice, lamb's quarters, anything will do! Every little bit helps!"

"Yellow sprout rice also takes three months."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Old Zhao slammed his hand on the table. "Are we just waiting to die?!"

Chen Yuan didn't reply. He walked to the water vat, scooped up a ladle of water, and slowly poured it onto the wound on his left arm. The medicinal powder dissolved, stinging the wound and making it red and swollen.

Widow Li stared at his wound and suddenly said, "Fellow Daoist Chen, were you... practicing martial arts last night?"

Chen Yuan paused.

"I got up in the middle of the night and saw a blue light coming from your house," Widow Li said softly. "It looked like... the Spirit Rain Technique?"

Old Zhao turned his head sharply: "What level have you reached?"

Chen Yuan put down the water ladle and turned around.