Spirit Plant Entry: Immortality Begins with Farming

Three days later, Chen Yuan stood on the ridge of his own spiritual field.

He held the pale yellow leaf in his hand—[Minor Yield Increase]. He squatted down, pressing the leaf against the strongest row of rice roots, a thought stirring in his mind.

The yellow leaves dissipated, turning into pale golden specks that seeped into the soil.

There were no earth-shattering changes; the rice ears still drooped, and the leaves were still yellow.

But Chen Yuan noticed that the ears of grain in the few plants where the light had penetrated seemed to be... a little bit fuller.

It was so subtle that he wouldn't have noticed it at all if he hadn't been watching it every day.

"It's really only one in ten."

Chen Yuan twitched the corner of his mouth, stood up, and patted the dirt off his hands. Well, at least the entries didn't lie.

He bent down and began harvesting. This half-acre plot was what remained after three stalks were removed last time; the plants were growing poorly, with sparse ears. He worked until the sun was setting, then bundled the harvested rice into three bundles, estimating it to weigh about forty pounds.

With the addition of the other two and a half mu, the total harvest this season should reach about 85 jin—five jin more than last time. The increase in the entry is barely noticeable.

In the evening, Chen Yuan carried half a bag of hulled yellow rice to the market.

This time, he didn't go to Baicaotang, but instead turned into a narrow alley in the outer district. At the end of the alley was an inconspicuous little shop with a flag bearing the character "rice" hanging on it. The shopkeeper was a one-eyed old man surnamed Hu, who specialized in buying rice from individual farmers. His prices were half a percent lower than those for bulk purchases, but he paid cash on the spot and didn't ask about the origin of the rice.

"Old Hu." Chen Yuan placed the rice bag on the counter.

The one-eyed old man opened the bag, grabbed a handful of rice grains, rubbed them in his palm, and then looked at them through his one eye: "The quality is alright, but there are too many impurities. Same as usual, six pieces of broken spirit for every pound."

Chen Yuan nodded. The official price in the market was seven broken spirit stones for one pound of yellow sprout rice (ten broken spirit stones were equivalent to one whole low-grade spirit stone). Old Hu would deduct 10%, but it would save him trouble.

"Forty-three and a half catties," the old man said, fiddling with his abacus. "I'll give you forty-four catties. Two hundred and sixty-four spirit fragments, round it down to two hundred and sixty spirit fragments. Here you go."

He pulled out a small cloth bag from under the counter and poured out twenty-six low-grade spirit stones. Too many spirit fragments were hard to carry. Usually, ten spirit fragments could be exchanged for one whole spirit stone, but the exchange shop would take a cut (half a stone for every ten spirit fragments). Old Hu was giving them the whole stone directly, which was a small discount.

Chen Yuan took the heavy little bag.

He didn't leave immediately. He took out a cloth bag from his pocket, opened it, and inside were two perilla plants—the ones left over from the yard. They didn't have any entries, but they were growing well with thick leaves.

Do you accept this?

The one-eyed old man glanced at it: "Perilla grass? Not bad quality. One stalk is half a spirit stone, two stalks are one spirit stone."

Chen Yuan readily nodded.

The transaction was completed, and he walked out of the narrow alley with twenty-seven spirit stones in his pocket.

The setting sun bathed the cobblestone streets of the market in orange-red hues, and the roadside vendors began to pack up, their shouts rising and falling.

Chen Yuan paused as he passed Baicaotang.

The shop was brightly lit, much brighter than the outside.

A young man in his early twenties, dressed in fine clothes, stood in front of the counter. He wore a brocade robe and a jade belt, and the jade pendant hanging from his waist shone brightly. He was talking to Manager Liao.

"...Is 'Qingxincao' really that hard to find? I'll pay three times the price."

"Young Master Lu, it's not about the price," Shopkeeper Liao said with a smile. "The Qingxin Grass is a second-tier spiritual herb. The spiritual energy in the Southern Wilderness is thin, and only a few wild plants grow each year, and they only grow in damp cliff crevices. Our shop really doesn't have any."

The young man frowned and tapped his fingers on the counter: "Then I'll place an order. Let me know immediately if it's in stock within three months."

"Yes, yes, yes."

The young man turned and walked away, leaving a faint fragrance as he passed Chen Yuan—not cosmetics, but rather the scent of some kind of spiritual plant incense.

Chen Yuan subconsciously looked up, his gaze sweeping over the jade pendant at the other person's waist.

A few lines of small print appeared:

【Name】: Jadeite Peace Pendant (Imitation)

[Entry]: Tranquilizing - Pseudo (Minor Effect)

[Condition]: In good condition

Counterfeit?

Chen Yuan was taken aback.

The jade pendant had a warm luster and exquisite carving. Even from several steps away, one could feel a faint fluctuation of spiritual energy. It was actually fake.

The young man seemed to notice his gaze and glanced at him sideways.

His gaze was indifferent, like looking at a pebble on the roadside, before he looked away and strode out the door. A blue carriage was parked at the entrance, pulled not by horses, but by two low-level spirit beasts called "Azure Horned Deer," with bells tied to their antlers that jingled.

As the carriage drove away, it kicked up fine dust.

After seeing off his guests, Manager Liao turned around and saw Chen Yuan. He smiled and said, "Young friend Chen, here to sell spirit herbs again?"

"Just browsing." Chen Yuan walked in. "Who was that just now...?"

"Young Master Lu Feng is a direct descendant of the Lu family in Qingyang Town," Manager Liao said in a low voice. "He's at the sixth level of Qi Refining, and it's said he's about to break through. The Lu family is an affiliated family of the Flying Feather Sect, specializing in the trade of spiritual materials; they're very wealthy."

Chen Yuan nodded, but his mind was on the "fake" jade pendant.

Counterfeits that can mimic the fluctuations of spiritual energy are probably quite expensive to make, just to put on a show.

"Shopkeeper, do you have 'Common Spiritual Plant Cultivation Manual'? The basic kind."

"Yes." Manager Liao pulled out a booklet from under the counter. "General Knowledge of First-Tier Spirit Plants, with a Simple Cultivation Method, and two spirit stones."

Chen Yuan paid the money, spent three spirit stones to buy a packet of "Fertile Soil Powder", and five spirit stones to buy a small bag of high-quality yellow-sprout rice seeds - not spirit seeds, but just robust ones selected from ordinary seeds.

There are seventeen spirit stones left.

He carefully put it away, and by the time he left Baicaotang, it was already dusk. The lanterns in the market area lit up one by one, but the streets in the outer districts were much darker, with only a few scattered lanterns hanging under the eaves, swaying in the wind.

On his way back to the shantytown, Chen Yuan felt like someone was following him.

The footsteps were very light, sometimes faint and sometimes faint, from a distance of several dozen feet.

He quickened his pace, and the other person quickened his pace too; he slowed down, and the other person slowed down too.

The footsteps disappeared as they approached their own log cabin.

Chen Yuan breathed a sigh of relief, pushed open the courtyard gate, and bolted it shut behind him.

As soon as I turned around, I saw Widow Li leaning against the door frame of her yard, holding an empty wooden bucket in her hand, looking at me with a smile.

"Fellow Daoist Chen is back? Did you have a good day?"

"It's acceptable," Chen Yuan replied briefly, and walked towards his home.

"I saw you came back from the market. Did you buy something?" Widow Li took a step forward, her voice soft and sweet. "Is it spirit fertilizer? I'd like to grow some vegetables in my yard. Could you... spare some for me? I'll pay the market price."

Chen Yuan paused, "Not much, not even enough for myself."

"Oh..." Widow Li drawled, then suddenly smiled, "Never mind then."

She turned and went back into the courtyard; the door wasn't closed properly, leaving a crack.

Chen Yuan entered the house, closed the door, and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. Something was wrong. Widow Li had never asked him for anything before, so why was she doing this today…?

Suddenly, a muffled thud came from outside the window, like something hitting the muddy ground.

Then came a low chuckle from the man: "That kid's pretty wary."

Another rough, hoarse voice said, "He's just broken through to the third level of Qi Refining; his aura is still unstable. He definitely has some valuables on him; he exchanged some for spirit stones at the market today."

"Keep an eye on him for two more days, figure out the layout of his house..."

The sound faded into the distance.

Chen Yuan's palms were sweating.

Are they robbers? Or just thugs from the shantytown?

He moved quietly to the window and looked out through the crack.

The night was dark, and only two figures could be vaguely seen passing by the alley entrance. One of them was a burly man, and it seemed that he was carrying something on his shoulder—like a short-handled axe.

Only after the footsteps completely disappeared did Chen Yuan slowly exhale.

He took out the seventeen spirit stones from his pocket and spread them out on the table. Under the lamplight, the spirit stones gleamed with a warm luster, like a pile of bait.

It cannot be placed indoors.

He got up, moved a few bricks under the bed, dug a shallow pit, wrapped up the spirit stones he had previously hidden, buried them in the pit, covered it with bricks again, and sprinkled dust on it.

They also hid the newly purchased rice seeds and fertilizer under the woodpile.

After doing all that, he sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the wind outside the window.

There are thirty spirit stones, three acres of barren land, a yield-increasing entry, and countless pairs of eyes lurking in the shadows.

Old Zhao's words from earlier in the day resurfaced: "If things really get chaotic, cultivation is meaningless; having food, medicine, and heavy weapons is what truly matters."

Chen Yuan lay down, staring at the thatched roof with his eyes open.

I need to find Old Zhao tomorrow and ask him about those two people. And Widow Li... does she know anything?

The sound of a night watchman's clapper came from outside the window—it was the patrol team passing by, striking the bamboo clapper three times.

It's midnight.

Chen Yuan closed his eyes and placed his hand under the bed board, where his only "tough guy" was hidden: a thick-backed short knife used for cutting spirit vines. It was made of iron, but it was heavy and sharp enough.