Spirit Plant Entry: Immortality Begins with Farming

The two turned around and saw Liu San Niang swaying her hips as she walked over, carrying a bamboo basket in her hand.

"Oh, busy, aren't you?" Liu San Niang smiled brightly. "I saw you've been busy all morning, you must be hungry. I made a few pancakes, they're still warm."

She placed the bamboo basket on the edge of the field and lifted the tarpaulin. Inside were four glistening scallion pancakes, their aroma filling the air.

Old Zhao glanced at her and said, "Liu San Niang, has the sun risen in the west? You actually deliver food?"

"Look at what you're saying," Liu Sanniang said reproachfully. "We're all neighbors, shouldn't we look out for each other? Besides, Fellow Daoist Chen helped my sister Widow Li with her farming, so I'm thanking you on her behalf. It's only right."

Chen Yuan looked at the few pancakes but didn't touch them.

Liu San Niang picked up a piece of paper and handed it over: "Fellow Daoist Chen, would you like to try some? My cooking skills are not bad."

"Thank you, I'm not hungry," Chen Yuan said.

Liu San Niang's hand froze in mid-air, her smile fading slightly: "What, afraid I'll poison you?"

"No," Chen Yuan stood up, "I just didn't have time to eat. Old Zhao, let's get back to work."

Old Zhao also stood up, patting the dirt off his backside: "Liu San Niang, take the cake back. We're busy."

Liu San Niang stood there, watching the two walk into the field, her face gradually darkening.

She stared at Chen Yuan's back for a long time.

Then he picked up the bamboo basket, turned around, and left.

After walking a dozen or so feet and turning the corner of the field, Li Xiong emerged from behind a tree.

"How is it?"

"Not a drop leaked." Liu Sanniang threw the bamboo basket on the ground. "He doesn't eat the cakes, doesn't say a word, and just buries his head in his work. Old Zhao is on his side too."

Li Xiong narrowed his eyes: "That kid definitely has a problem."

"There are problems," Liu Sanniang said, "but we can't find any evidence against him. Although his methods are strange, they are all aboveboard—fire mineral powder, spirit rain technique, improved seeds, any of them can be explained."

"What doesn't make sense is the effect." Li Xiong squatted down, grabbed a handful of processed soil, and said, "It's only been half a day, and most of the foul air has been cleared away. I've seen alchemists use cleansing talismans, each costing five spirit stones, and they only achieve this effect."

"You mean...?"

"He has a free way to clean up filth." Li Xiong stood up, clapped his hands, and said, "Moreover, this method can be used on eight acres of land."

Liu San Niang's eyes lit up: "If we could get our hands on it..."

"No rush." ​​Li Xiong looked in Chen Yuan's direction. "Let him grow the crops before we start. Then we'll harvest the land and the crops together."

---

By evening, the soil purification in Sanjiatian was mostly complete.

Chen Yuan was so exhausted he could barely stand, but seeing the warning messages change from "Severe Warning" to "Plantable" in the alert system, he felt a slight sense of relief.

When they returned to the courtyard, Widow Li had already finished watering the golden ginseng. The five seedlings had grown taller, especially the two mutated ones, which were already almost four inches tall, with leaves so thick they looked like they were about to drip oil.

"They grow so fast," Widow Li whispered. "I've grown vegetables before, but I've never seen them grow this fast."

Chen Yuan squatted down to inspect. The mutant's status displayed: [Growth is accelerating; expected to reach maturity in fifteen days].

Fifteen days...that's enough time.

But there's only one entry left for "weak growth promotion". I used one today, and I'll save the other for a crucial moment.

"Fellow Daoist Chen," Widow Li suddenly said, "I went to the market during the day and bought some rice, so I cooked a pot of porridge. Why don't you and Uncle Zhao come to my house for dinner tonight?"

Chen Yuan initially wanted to refuse, but seeing the woman's expectant eyes and the child huddled in the corner eating a pancake, he changed his mind and said, "...Okay."

Dinner was simple: a pot of thin porridge, a dish of pickled vegetables, and two coarse flatbreads.

Old Zhao ate with great relish, drinking three large bowls of wine. Widow Li's son, Xiao Bao, also held his bowl, sipping slowly, his eyes sparkling.

"Mom, the porridge smells of rice," the child said.

Widow Li's eyes reddened, and she patted his head: "Hmm, it smells of rice. From now on, Mother will cook it for you every day."

Chen Yuan silently drank his porridge, calculating the costs in his mind.

Eight mu of land, forty jin of improved yellow-sprout rice seeds, barely enough. Two spirit-gathering array plates, enough to cover two mu, the remaining six mu rely entirely on the Spirit Rain Technique.

There's only one entry left, so we need to use it wisely.

The Golden Thread Ginseng will mature in fifteen days. When it does, it can be sold to Baicaotang for at least five spirit stones per plant. Five plants would be twenty-five spirit stones, enough to buy more fertilizer, or even a Spirit Gathering Array Plate.

But the prerequisite is... that nothing goes wrong within these fifteen days.

The sky outside the window was completely dark.

The sound of a night watchman's gong came from afar; it was a patrol team passing by.

Chen Yuan put down his bowl: "I'm going back. We'll start planting first thing tomorrow morning."

Old Zhao also stood up, patted his belly, and said, "I'll give you a ride."

The two left Widow Li's courtyard and walked back along the muddy road.

The night breeze was cool, rustling the thatch by the roadside.

As they reached the fork in the road, Old Zhao suddenly stopped: "Young Chen, why didn't you eat the cakes that Liu San Niang brought today?"

Chen Yuan did not answer.

Old Zhao turned to look at him: "Are you afraid she'll poison him?"

"I'm not afraid of drugs," Chen Yuan said, "I'm afraid of human relationships."

"Favors?"

"Once you eat her cake, you owe her a favor." Chen Yuan looked towards Liu San Niang's house, where the light was still on. "In this world, favors are harder to repay than poison."

Old Zhao was silent for a moment, then sighed: "You understand things better than I do."

The two continued walking forward.

As they approached Chen Yuan's house, Old Zhao suddenly lowered his voice: "Be careful of Li Xiong. That man is ruthless and has his eye on you."

"I know."

"Good to know." Old Zhao patted him on the shoulder. "Twenty days... plant well. If they survive, we'll all have a way to live. If they don't survive..."

He didn't finish speaking; he waved his hand, turned, and walked into the night.

Chen Yuan stood at the gate of his own yard, watching the old man's hunched back disappear into the darkness.

Then he pushed open the door and walked into the yard.

Five golden ginseng plants grew quietly under the moonlight, their leaves shimmering with a faint golden glow.

Chen Yuan squatted down and gently touched the two mutated plants.

In the sea of ​​consciousness, the last golden leaf, which had been faintly stimulated to grow, shone slightly in the gray mist.

"Cultivating immortality has turned me into an old ox," Chen Yuan chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Well, ox it is, as long as I can plow a path to survival."

The night was dark.

On the distant mountainside, the lights of the outer sect of the Flying Feather Sect went out one by one.

The shantytown fell silent, save for the occasional bark of a dog and the whistling sound of the wind blowing through the dilapidated houses.

Chen Yuan sat on the threshold, gazing at the starry sky.

Chen Yuan was awakened in the middle of the night by the noise in the courtyard.

It wasn't the sound of the wind—it was the rustling of fabric against the fence, the hushed breathing, and the crunching of boots crushing dead leaves.

He silently rolled out of bed, grabbed the short knife from behind the door, and pressed it against the window.

The moonlight was pale, and two dark figures were crouching low beside the experimental field in the courtyard.

One person reached out to pull up the two mutated golden ginseng plants, but the other person pulled him back and pointed to the ground next to the ginseng seedlings—Chen Yuan had sprinkled a layer of fine sand last night, and clear footprints were now visible on the sand.

"Damn, this kid's shrewd." The low voice belonged to Li Xiong.

"Don't touch it," came Liu San Niang's voice. "He'll notice if you disturb the soil."

"What should we do then? Did we come all this way for nothing?"

Liu San Niang remained silent, her gaze sweeping around the courtyard before settling on a few burlap sacks in the corner.

She walked over, scratched open the bag with her fingernail, grabbed a handful of things, and smelled them.

"An improved rice variety," she sneered. "Forty catties, enough to plant eight mu of land. Baicaotang sells it for ten spirit stones; they're really willing to part with it."

"Take it away?" Li Xiong asked.

"Take it." Liu San Niang tore open another burlap sack, but then stopped.

The bag didn't contain rice seeds, but rather half a bag of moldy, stale rice, with tiny black worms crawling among the grains. A note was tucked under the bag, the handwriting crooked and illegible:

【Fellow Daoist Liu, if you are hungry, feel free to take the rice. But you must not touch the seeds. If you do, the lives of the people on those eight acres of land will be your responsibility.】

Li Xiong leaned closer to take a look, and his face darkened.

"He knew we were coming."

"Not only that." Liu Sanniang crumpled the note. "He knew we would come to see the ginseng first, and that touching it would leave footprints; he knew we would rummage through the bags, so he put in a bag of moldy rice to disgust people. This kid... is giving us a warning."

Inside the room, Chen Yuan's palms were sweaty as he gripped the knife handle.

He had prepared that bag of moldy rice three days ago. The note was written last night. He was betting that Li Xiong and Liu San Niang wouldn't dare to really break ties—at least not before they could grow anything.

But what if you lose the bet?

Outside the window, Li Xiong straightened up and looked in the direction of Chen Yuan's house. The moonlight shone on his face, and the scar that ran from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth looked like a centipede.

"Kid," he suddenly raised his voice, "I know you're awake. Want to come out and talk?"

Chen Yuan didn't move.

"It's fine if you don't want to come out." Li Xiong kicked the bag of moldy rice. "I'll give you two choices. First, give me half of the improved rice seeds, and I guarantee you'll be safe and sound for the next twenty days on your eight acres. Second—"

He paused, his voice turning cold: "I come to your yard every day, trample a few seedlings, and catch a few bugs to release into your field. Let's see if you can plant faster or I can destroy them faster."

Liu San Niang tugged at his arm: "Brother Li, we agreed to wait until the seed is born before..."

"Wait my ass!" Li Xiong shoved her away. "Eight acres! If he actually manages to cultivate them, how much will be left after taxes? If we try to steal it later, we won't even get a sip! We need to divide it now!"

Inside the room, Chen Yuan took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and went out.