Spirit Plant Entry: Immortality Begins with Farming

The morning light cuts through the night.

The ruins smelled burnt, mixed with dew, and had a damp, fishy odor.

The terracotta pot is still there. The soil is still there. The veins of roots entwined on the soil surface are as clear as if they were engraved.

The ginseng is gone.

Not a single leaf remained, nor a single root.

Only a shallow pit remained, with pale golden liquid seeping from the bottom, mixed with a few streaks of dark red, reflecting slightly in the gradually brightening sunlight.

The third rooster crow came from deep within the shantytown, hoarse and drawn out.

"Earth-遁 (earth-遁 is a type of magical ability)? A substitute?"

Lu Feng's voice was cold and hard. His right hand was pressed on the hilt of the sword at his waist, his knuckles turning white—the standard-issue blue steel sword of the Flying Feather Sect's Enforcement Hall, with three silver stripes on its scabbard.

Su Wanqing did not respond.

She crouched down, her pale blue dress brushing against the scorched earth. A drop of water, clear and transparent with a slight blue tinge, condensed on her index finger. She touched the sap from the bottom of the pit with her fingertip, brought it to her nose, closed her eyes, and gently inhaled.

frown.

Then, he licked it very lightly with the tip of his tongue.

"It didn't burrow underground." She stood up, her skirt fluttering even without wind. "The blood-refining energy is extremely concentrated, far exceeding that of ordinary blood ginseng. But the ginseng's spiritual energy fluctuations... have completely disappeared."

His gaze swept over the crowd:

"It's like being 'transferred' elsewhere. The technique is exquisite, with almost no leakage of spiritual energy—unlike something a fourth-level Qi Refining cultivator could do."

"Transfer?"

Hong Gu twirled the soul-capturing bell on her wrist. The seven bells jingled softly, drawing the heart's heartbeat.

"Transplanting spiritual plants requires a healthy mother plant, suitable rootstock, and the guidance of pure wood-elemental spiritual energy during the Foundation Establishment stage." She narrowed her eyes, a sharp glint in her alluring gaze. "That kid's spiritual energy is a jumbled mess, what makes him think he can succeed?"

No one spoke.

All eyes were on Yin Jiu.

The man in black robes stared intently at the shallow pit. His pale pupils narrowed to slits, and his breath grew heavier with each gasp. The hem of his black robe fluttered even without wind, as if carrying a suppressed storm.

After a long while, he slowly raised his head.

Look southeast.

Outside the shantytown, the Qingyang Mountains revealed their continuous shadows in the morning mist, like a lurking giant beast.

"This is not a regular transfer."

His voice trembled, each word sounding as if it were being ground out from between his teeth.

"It's a 'destiny grafting'."

"The third volume of the 'Records of the Netherworld' records a method used by ancient spirit plant masters to fight desperately. They forcibly bind spirit plants to a destiny, making them live and die together. In times of crisis, they can use the power of destiny to instantly transfer the plant to the point where the destiny is connected."

He let out a sob, then swallowed it back down.

"The price is..."

The black robe began to tremble.

"Ten years of lifespan. Thirty percent of the spirit is permanently lost. The spiritual plant's grade is permanently reduced by one level—never to be able to rise again in this lifetime."

The morning light poured down completely.

Golden light streamed from the eastern mountain ridge, splashing onto the ruins and onto everyone's faces.

The light was bright, but it couldn't warm the chill in my eyes.

Lu Feng sneered: "Losing ten years of lifespan, destroying one's own foundation—all for a ginseng?"

"You don't understand."

Su Wanqing suddenly spoke.

Everyone looked at her.

She looked down at her fingertips—the skin where the juice had touched was a pale golden-red, slowly fading away.

"This isn't 'guaranteeing enrollment'," she said, looking up. "This is 'drawing a line'."

Hong Gu raised an eyebrow: "What do you mean?"

"It means—" Su Wanqing said, word by word, "From now on, even if this blood ginseng is dug up, stolen, refined into pills, or swallowed by someone... it will never be 'your'."

She paused:

"It can only be 'stolen from Chen Yuan'."

The ruins fell silent.

Lu Feng's face grew even colder: "Absurd! Spiritual plants have always been obtained by the strong. What right does he, a mere Qi Refining Level 4 cultivator, have?"

"Because he lost ten years of his lifespan," Su Wanqing said calmly, "Because he damaged thirty percent of his soul. Because he was willing to gamble his future path in exchange for a mark that says 'This thing shares my fate'—you took away the 'thing,' but you can't take away the 'symbiosis.'"

She looked southeast, where the morning mist was gradually dissipating, and the mountain shapes were becoming clear.

"The dumbest method," she said softly, "is also the most ruthless."

Yin Jiu suddenly laughed.

The laughter was dry and hoarse, like the rustling of withered leaves.

"Good...very good." Emotions surged in his gray eyes. "If I had been this ruthless back then, Xiaodie wouldn't have ended up like this..."

The words were not finished.

He turned around abruptly, his black robe billowing, his gaze fixed on the southeast—the instant the blood ginseng vanished, he caught a faint trace of soul energy fluctuation heading in that direction.

Hong Gu also noticed.

The Soul-Capturing Bell trembled slightly, and the seven vengeful spirits within it stirred restlessly.

"The soul source is still there." She licked her lips, a greedy glint in her alluring eyes. "Though weak, it is indeed drifting southeast—that brat split the ginseng into 'flesh and blood' and 'soul.' He took the flesh and blood with him, but left the soul behind, leading us to chase after it."

Before the words were even finished, the red figure had already shot out!

Almost simultaneously, Yin Jiu's black robe exploded, and a black rainbow shot through the sky in pursuit!

Lu Feng looked at Su Wanqing: "Chase after them?"

Su Wanqing remained silent for a moment, then shook her head: "The Soul Source belongs to the Ghost Path; even if we catch up, it will be difficult to obtain. But that kid..."

She looked into the depths of the shantytown.

"He ran away with another portion. His lifespan was shortened, his soul was damaged, and he was severely injured—he couldn't have gone far."

Lu Feng narrowed his eyes: "You're looking for him?"

"I want to know." Su Wanqing turned around, her skirt parting in the morning light, "Where did a Qi Refining Level 4 spiritual farmer learn such a forbidden technique as 'Destiny Grafting'? And who gave him the audacity to gamble with his life?"

She paused:

"A forbidden technique has appeared within the territory of the Flying Feather Sect. If I, as an outer sect steward, do nothing, the Enforcement Hall will hold us accountable, and neither of us will be able to escape blame."

Lu Feng's expression changed slightly, but he finally nodded.

The two rose into the air on their swords, the blue and white sword light piercing through the morning mist, heading straight towards the heart of the shantytown—the direction of Chen Yuan's home, not southeast.

The ruins are completely empty.

Only Liu San Niang and Li Xiong remained.

And the empty, shallow pit on the ground.

Liu San Niang did not move.

She stood in the middle of the ruins, the morning light casting mottled shadows on her makeup—sweat washed away the rouge, revealing fine wrinkles, a dull complexion, and eyes as cold as ice.

I watched it for a long time.

She slowly squatted down, reached into the shallow pit, and dipped her fingertips into the mixed juice.

Bring it close to your nose and smell it.

Then, it licked it very lightly.

Then he laughed.

The smile was devoid of warmth.

"Brother Li." She stood up, wiping her fingertips on the hem of her skirt, "We've been tricked."

Li Xiong was wiping the bloodstains from his fists—splattered during the brawl. He paused upon hearing this: "What do you mean?"

"The liquid at the bottom of the pit is extremely rich in blood-refining energy, but the essence of soul is almost dissipating." Liu San Niang's voice was calm. "That kid divided the ginseng into 'flesh and blood' and 'soul and spirit'—he took the flesh and blood portion, but he deliberately left a trace of the soul and spirit portion to lure Yin Jiu and Hong Gu into chasing after it."

She looked southeast, where the morning mist was billowing and there was no one in sight.

"A diversionary tactic," she said softly. "An old trick, but it works."

Li Xiong threw away the blood-stained cloth. The cloth fell onto the scorched earth, instantly turning it dark red.

"Go find him." He turned around, his back muscles tense. "Make him spit out his 'flesh and blood'."

"No rush," Liu San Niang shook her head.

Li Xiong looked back at her.

"He's like a frightened bird now, his lifespan shortened and his soul damaged. He's seriously injured and carries a half-dead ginseng root with him," Liu San Niang said slowly. "If you push him now, he'll really fight to the death."

A calculating glint flashed in her eyes:

"Wait. Wait until he can't hold on any longer, until that half-ginseng starts to wither, until he has no choice but to beg for help—then we can negotiate the price."

Li Xiong remained silent for a moment, then nodded.

The two walked one after the other across the ruins, not towards Chen Yuan's house, but towards the depths of the shantytown—Liu San Niang's low-lying wine shop.

The morning light stretched their shadows long.