Spirit Plant Entry: Immortality Begins with Farming

"It's past midnight, and you're secretly gathering evil spirits—when did the shantytown become your ghostly den?"

The voice descended from the sky, clear and steady, each word like a jade bead falling onto a glass plate.

A soft white light suddenly shone from the top of the thatched shed.

The light wasn't dazzling, but it was so clean that it could penetrate things.

Where the light shines, the thatch automatically partes to both sides, as if being pushed aside by an invisible hand.

A neat, round hole was torn open in the roof, revealing a blue flying boat suspended above.

The boat was three zhang long, made entirely of jade-like material, with flowing cloud patterns carved all over its hull, which gleamed with a warm light under the moonlight.

Su Wanqing stood at the bow of the boat, her moon-white Taoist robe spotless, the hem fluttering slightly in the night breeze.

In her left hand she held a hexagonal lantern, its shade painted with the lingzhi and cloud patterns of Xinglin Garden; in her right hand she made a hand seal, a flickering flame appearing and disappearing at her fingertips, an orange-red halo flowing between her fingers.

Behind her stood two outer disciples of the Flying Feather Sect, both dressed in blue and white robes with standard longswords hanging at their waists.

The sword was not drawn, but the scabbard itself was trembling slightly, emitting a low hum, like a venomous snake that might spring out at any moment.

The flying boat slowly descended, hovering three zhang outside the canopy, three chi above the ground.

Su Wanqing jumped down lightly, landing silently without even stirring up a speck of dust.

The glow of the lantern in her hand pushed aside the darkness in the shed, illuminating the expressions on everyone's faces clearly.

Hong Gu raised an eyebrow, a playful smile curving her lips: "Master Su? When did Xinglin Garden start doing night patrols too? Don't let the night winds of this southern border ruin your alchemy hands."

"Xinglin Garden doesn't patrol at night, but it collects medicine." Su Wanqing's gaze swept over Hong Gu, lingering for a moment on Yin Jiu, a barely perceptible hint of disgust flashing in her eyes, before finally settling on the Blood Ginseng. "Golden-Veined Blood Ginseng, one of the three main ingredients of the Foundation Establishment Pill, is on the sect's Class A controlled list. Privately harvesting it will cripple your cultivation, privately refining it will result in the loss of your right arm, and privately selling it will lead to the execution of your entire family."

She turned to Chen Yuan, her tone flat:

"Fellow Daoist Chen, did you report this ginseng to the pharmacy?"

Before Chen Yuan could speak, Yin Jiu laughed first.

His laughter was dry and hoarse, like two withered leaves being rubbed on sandpaper.

"Sultan, you have quite the grand rules." With a flick of his black robe, the frost beneath his feet erupted, transforming into dozens of sharp ice spikes, like living poisonous vines, lunging at Su Wanqing from different angles. "What a pity, rules are made for those who abide by them. Do people like you and me... even deserve them?"

The ice spikes rushed to within three feet of Su Wanqing, then suddenly stopped.

It wasn't that they were blocked by the protective aura; they were "frozen"—as if time had been pulled away from that place for a moment. All the ice spikes remained suspended in mid-air, their surfaces gleaming with a strange jade-like luster.

Then, fry them all at the same time.

Fine ice crystals fell softly, refracting into a rainbow of light in the glow of the lantern, like a brief shower of crystal.

Su Wanqing's fingertip flickered with a flame, which leaped three inches higher before slowly receding: "Ghost Path Yin Jiu, a forsaken disciple of the Yellow Springs Sect, is jointly offered a bounty of three hundred spirit stones by the seventeen cities of the Western Desert. Demon Path Hong Luan, an outer sect deacon of the Blood Fiend Sect, is offered a bounty of five hundred spirit stones by the Eastern Wilderness Black Market—tell me, should I first acquire this forbidden spiritual plant, or use your heads to exchange for the bounty?"

The atmosphere instantly became extremely tense.

The soul-capturing bell on Hong Gu's wrist began to chime softly—not a sound that could be heard, but a sharp shriek that seemed to drill directly into her head.

The air inside the shed rippled like water, and a few scattered grass stems in the corner started to move on their own, trembling.

Yin Jiu's black robe moved without wind, thick black smoke billowing from his sleeves. Within the smoke, pale arms were clawing, a distorted face was howling, and intermittent cries echoed.

Two disciples of the Flying Feather Sect drew their swords simultaneously.

"Clang—clang—"

The sword was drawn three inches from its sheath, and its cold, clear light, like moonlight spilling onto the ground, illuminated the shed in a stark white.

Before the sword energy was even released, the sword intent had already locked Yin Jiu and Hong Gu within three feet of each other.

At this critical moment, when everything was on the verge of exploding—

"Oh my, with such a lively scene, it would be so inconsiderate not to call me Liu San Niang!"

A charming, laughing voice squeezed in from the night.

Liu San Niang swayed her slender waist and gracefully walked in through a gap in the broken fence outside the shed.

Today she wore a brand new peach-colored ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress), the fabric of which was cheap but eye-catchingly bright. Her face was covered in so much powder that it looked like a layer could be scraped off, giving it an unnatural white hue under the moonlight.

He carried a rough earthenware wine pot in his left hand, with wine still dripping from the spout; his right hand was draped over Li Xiong's arm, and he was practically hanging on him, walking unsteadily, with a strong smell of alcohol mixed with cheap perfume wafting towards you.

Li Xiong was shirtless, his bronze muscles taut, and a dark red strip of cloth wrapped tightly from his wrist to his elbow on his right arm.

He didn't bring his large, door-like cleaver, but his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles cracked, and the veins on his arms bulged like earthworms.

"Fellow Daoist Chen," Liu Sanniang leaned against the doorframe, her eyes glazed with drunken laughter, her voice as sweet as honey, "You promised three days... It's only been two and a half days, and you're already in such a hurry to hold a tasting event? What, are you worried that I can't afford to pay the bill?"

Chen Yuan slowly stood up.

The roots that had been wrapped around his ankles loosened and retreated back into the soil.

"Fellow Daoist Liu, you've arrived just in time." Chen Yuan's voice was calm, revealing no emotion. "With the participants here, the accounts—we can begin to settle them."

"Settle accounts?" Liu Sanniang giggled, her laughter shaking her body, the cheap beads on her chest jingling.

As she laughed, she suddenly fell silent, the hazy intoxication in her eyes vanishing instantly, replaced by a cold, clear-headed stare. "It should be counted. It's clearly written in black and white: 20% of your harvest from your eight acres this season belongs to us. This ginseng... counts as part of the harvest too, right?"

Li Xiong spoke, his voice like sandpaper grinding on pig iron:

"The document states 'produced from the sacred field.' This ginseng is in your thatched hut, so it doesn't count as produced from the sacred field."

"Brother Li, why are you taking this so seriously?" Liu Sanniang gave him a reproachful glance, her eyes sparkling with a hint of allure. Turning to Chen Yuan, she beamed, "Fellow Daoist Chen is a respectable man, he certainly knows the rules—everyone gets a share, right? Your ginseng, Senior Yin wants a little, Senior Hong Gu wants a little, Master Su Dan wants a little, and we… well, we want a little too. If we all share peacefully, wouldn't everyone be happy?"

Chen Yuan remained silent.

Inside the shed, five different auras were colliding, fighting, and probing each other.

Yin Jiu's deathly aura was chilling and bone-piercing, like the wind blowing from the depths of a grave.

Hong Gu's demonic energy is thick, sweet, and has a strange, captivating quality.

Su Wanqing's elixir fire blazed brightly and intensely, like the rising sun.

Li Xiong's violent and murderous aura was as sharp as a knife, cutting into people's skin with a painful pain;

And there was also the faint, spiderweb-like allure emanating from Liu San Niang.

Five forces wove an invisible net in the cramped thatched hut, the air heavy as mercury, every breath requiring all one's strength.

The golden-red veins on the blood ginseng leaves began to swirl wildly.

The light grew brighter and faster, as if something was surging and trying to break out from under the leaves.

The light shone on everyone's face, giving their expressions an eerie golden-red hue, like clay statues in a temple, their expressions indistinguishable between joy and sorrow.

Chen Yuan could clearly feel that although the roots that had wrapped around his ankles had retreated back into the soil, they were still connected to him.

Now, a surge of pure, scalding blood energy is flowing back into his body through that invisible connection, mixing wildly with his own blood-refining energy, and then being greedily devoured by the seedlings of words in his sea of ​​consciousness.

The saplings are growing.

The fourth leaf has fully unfolded, its veins as clear as golden threads.

The fifth leaf bud emerged from between the branches, emerald green and glistening with a faint sheen.

The sixth aura has arrived.

It came from the sky.

It is stronger than the previous five, it is "righteous", and it carries an unquestionable, superior authority.