Spirit Plant Entry: Immortality Begins with Farming

Chen Yuan focused his consciousness on the past.

A piece of information naturally emerges:

[Entry Seedling (Prototype)]

[Status]: Initial Formation (catalyzed by spiritual energy impact and crisis stimulation)

【ability】:

1. Term stacking: Two lower-level terms can be used simultaneously, and their effects will stack (there is a risk of conflict).

2. Slightly increased resistance: Slightly enhanced resistance to the side effects of certain attributes.

3. Perception Extension: The range of perception for the spiritual plant entry is expanded to five zhang.

[Note]: The system evolves ahead of time as the host's cultivation and experience accumulate. This is the basic form; further growth is required to unlock more abilities.

Chen Yuan opened his eyes, his heart beating a little fast.

It's not a system upgrade brought about by breaking through to a higher level, but rather a reactive evolution in the face of crisis.

This shows that system growth depends not only on cultivation level, but also on "experience" and "stimuli".

"Young Chen?" Old Zhao nudged him when he saw him standing there in a daze. "Are you scared?"

"It's nothing," Chen Yuan shook his head. "I was wondering... why did these lynxes suddenly come down from the mountain?"

Old Zhao's expression turned serious: "I also find it strange. Ironclaw lynxes are usually afraid of people, and even when they're starving, they only dare to steal from lone livestock. Tonight, three of them came all at once, and they were so fierce..."

He lowered his voice: "I heard that things have been unsettled in the mountains lately. Some members of a demon-hunting team said that something is active deep inside, driving away low-level demon beasts."

"What is it?"

"Who knows?" Old Zhao shook his head. "It could be an even more powerful monster, or something else entirely. In any case, try to stay home at night these days."

Chen Yuan noted it down.

After bandaging the wound, he helped clean the ridges of the field for a while before dragging his tired body back home.

When I passed by Liu San Niang's house, the gate was tightly closed.

Inside the courtyard, the lights were on in the main room.

Liu San Niang wrung out a wet towel and handed it to Li Xiong. Li Xiong, shirtless, sat on a stool and took the towel to wipe the blood from his face. He had several fresh wounds on his back, all from the lynx's scratches, the flesh torn and gruesome.

"That kid's acting strange." Li Xiong threw the towel back into the basin, splashing water everywhere.

Liu San Niang walked behind him, dipped a clean cloth in the medicinal wine, and carefully wiped the wound. The medicinal wine had a pungent smell, and Li Xiong's muscles tensed, but he didn't utter a sound.

"Perhaps she was wearing inner armor?" Liu San Niang asked.

"It doesn't seem like it," Li Xiong shook his head. "The inner armor couldn't withstand that force. That claw of the Iron Claw Lynx would have disemboweled anyone else. He only suffered a superficial wound, barely even bleeding."

He paused, then turned to look at Liu San Niang: "You were close enough, did you see clearly?"

Liu San Niang paused her movements, recalling the scene at that time.

In the firelight, Chen Yuan raised his knife to parry, and the lynx's claws grazed his chest. His outer garment was torn, but there were no wounds underneath, only three white marks.

"There was no blood," she nodded. "But where would a mere Qi Refining Level 3 Spirit Farmer get a protective treasure? Even if he did, it shouldn't be this tough."

"That's why I said something was wrong." Li Xiong turned back, letting Liu San Niang continue bandaging him. "Either he has achieved success in body refinement, or... he has something on his body that we don't know about."

"Body tempering? Him?" Liu Sanniang laughed. "That kid Chen Yuan has lived in the shantytown for five years. Everyone knows he has four spiritual roots, and his cultivation is as slow as a tortoise. Body tempering is even more resource-intensive than breathing exercises. Where would he get the money?"

"That's strange." Li Xiong narrowed his eyes. "The other day, the spirit rice he sold was of better quality than others. And today he went toe-to-toe with a lynx like that... This kid probably has a secret."

After Liu San Niang finished bandaging him, she tied the strip of cloth in a knot, walked around to Li Xiong, sat down on his lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"So what do you plan to do?"

"Let's see." Li Xiong put his arm around her waist, his fingers tracing the fabric. "A fox will always show its tail. He's only at the third level of Qi Refining now; he can't cause any trouble. We'll find out more once we've figured him out..."

He didn't elaborate, but his meaning was clear.

Liu San Niang rested her head on his shoulder, her voice softening: "You be careful too. Two people died and several others were injured tonight. Next time there are monsters, don't rush in so far."

"If I don't rush forward, do you expect those useless fools to do it?" Li Xiong scoffed. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. But you—"

He grabbed Liu San Niang's chin, forcing her to look up.

"Don't mess with that kid behind my back. The situation is unclear right now, and it wouldn't be good to alert him."

Liu San Niang's eyes flickered, and she laughed, "I know. I'm not stupid."

Li Xiong stared at her for a few seconds, then released his grip and patted her face.

"That would be best."

Li Xiong's wounds had been bandaged, but the smell of blood, mixed with the smell of medicinal wine, still lingered in the room.

Liu San Niang got up and blew out the oil lamp.

Chen Yuan returned to his own courtyard and closed the door.

He walked to the water vat and scooped water to wash the blood off his face.

The water was icy cold, which made the wound ache slightly.

After washing his face, he went to the backyard and looked at the experimental field.

The wiregrass I planted last night has already sprouted tender shoots. In the morning light, it gleams with a faint green hue.

No entry.

But as he focused his gaze, a slight change appeared in his field of vision—above the spiritual plant, in addition to the original three lines of text: name, entry, and status, a fourth line of extremely faint text faintly emerged:

[Cultivation Suggestion]: If the soil is on the dry side, the frequency of rain can be increased appropriately.

Is this... a new feature brought about by the system upgrade?

Chen Yuan squatted down and reached out to touch the soil. Indeed, the surface layer was dry.

He made a hand seal and cast a spell, and a magical rain fell. The mist seeped into the soil, and the tender shoots of the wiregrass seemed to straighten a little.

The suggestion is effective.

Chen Yuan stood up and looked into the distance.

The sacred field at the foot of the mountain was a scene of devastation in the morning light. The rice stalks were flattened, the soil was stained with blood, and there were rags and broken bones scattered on the ground.

The shantytown awoke. Smoke rose from chimneys, and voices gradually filled the air, as if nothing had happened.

Finally, his consciousness sank into his sea of ​​consciousness, looking at the pale green seedling's phantom image.

It is very small and very fragile.

But it took root there, in the center of the hazy sea of ​​consciousness, its two tender leaves slightly unfurling, as if breathing.

Chen Yuan opened his eyes and took a deep breath.

Its daybreak.

The wound on his left arm was still throbbing, but he couldn't care less. Last night, a monster attacked the fields; his three acres were on the south side, so they should have been safe. But the night was chaotic, and he hadn't had a chance to check carefully.

We need to check that now.

The morning fog was thicker than usual, clinging damply to my face.

The streets of the shantytown were filled with unfamiliar faces—those who had fled from more distant settlements the night before, families huddled under the eaves, their eyes vacant.

Chen Yuan quickened his pace.

Stepping out of the shantytown, the view opened up.

The Qingyang Mountains were faintly visible in the morning mist. At the foot of the mountains, in the direction of the spiritual fields, a dozen or so figures moved about on the field ridges, like a flock of birds foraging for food.

His three mu of land was located in the most remote part of the western slope, requiring him to bypass the main field area.

As he approached, Chen Yuan slowed his pace.

wrong.

There were footprints on the ridge—not human footprints, but animal claw marks, three toes, deeply embedded in the mud. A drag mark stretched from the ridge into the field, flattening several rows of rice.

Chen Yuan's heart tightened, and he rushed over quickly.

Then he saw it.

The three mu of spiritual land, including the two and a half mu on the north side, were completely destroyed.

The rice stalks lay flattened, as if a giant beast had rolled over them. Some were uprooted and thrown onto the ridges; some were trampled into the mud, with only a few withered leaves sticking out; and some had been torn apart, the rice ears scattered all over the ground, mixed with mud and blood.

Only the southernmost half-acre plot is relatively intact, but it's sparse and the rice stalks are crooked.

Chen Yuan stood motionless on the edge of the field.