I run a casino in the immortal realm.

When Han Mei was pushed out the door, she stumbled a step, turned around and glared at Zheng Yifei. Her lips trembled a few times, but she didn't dare to curse him out. She turned and ran away.

Lin Wan was still holding the spatula in her hand, standing frozen next to the stove.

"Fei'er, how...how could you push that girl?"

"Mother, I need to make this clear to you."

Zheng Yifei walked to the stove and sat down, then recounted the events of that night by the river in detail.

When Han Mei asked for money, he tentatively hugged her, but Han Mei used her second-level Qi Refining cultivation to shake him off, calling him a good-for-nothing and saying that she had been having an affair with Manager Zhao's son for a long time and that she had been lying to him all these years by having him work for her family.

Not a single word was missed.

Lin Wan's expression changed from surprise to displeasure, and then to ashen.

She was a soft-hearted woman, but not a fool.

"This...this girl, how could she do this!"

Lin Wan slammed the spatula on the stove, and the sound of it distorted.

She recalled that over the past two years, Han Mei would come to her house every few days, calling her "Auntie" affectionately. Every time she came, she would ask for spirit coins or her son to work at her house.

She thought it was just that the young people were shy and reserved in expressing their feelings.

It turns out that they didn't care about her son at all.

"So that's why this girl hasn't come to see her father even once in the past two weeks since he was injured. Turns out, her heart isn't with you at all."

Lin Wan grew angrier the more she thought about it, and ripped off her apron: "If she comes again, I'll kick her out!"

"No need to chase her away, she won't come again."

Zheng Yifei picked up the bowl of porridge on the table and took a sip.

With no luck on Manager Zhao's son's side and having been rebuffed on her own, Han Mei lost face and dared not visit again.

"Fei'er, don't be discouraged."

Lin Wan calmed herself down, walked over and patted her son on the shoulder: "Once we're done with this, Mom will definitely find you a good one, a hundred times better than that girl."

"Um."

Zheng Yifei responded without saying anything more.

Forget about finding a wife; his mind is full of spirit stones and cultivation right now.

The next morning, the whole family went out to harvest the sacred rice.

The Spirit Rice and the rice on Blue Star look similar, with golden ears of rice hanging down heavily. However, the stalks of Spirit Rice are twice as thick as those of Blue Star rice, and their hardness is comparable to that of bamboo. Ordinary iron sickles can only leave a white mark when they are cut.

The spiritual farmers in the shantytowns harvest rice by attaching spiritual energy to their sickles, infusing the sickles with spiritual energy as they cut.

The higher one's cultivation level, the stronger one's spiritual power, and the faster one can cut.

Of course, it also has to do with the sickle. Most spirit farmers use low-grade magic sickles, which cost two spirit stones each, while high-grade magic sickles cost ten spirit stones each, and not many spirit farmers can afford them.

Zheng Yifei bought one.

Zheng Dashan is at the third level of Qi Refining. With one slash, he can cut three or four stalks of rice, which is already quite fast.

Lin Wan, at the second level of Qi cultivation, cut two hairs with one stroke, a skillful but strenuous technique.

It was Zheng Yifei's turn.

He bent down, grasped a handful of spirit rice in his left hand, and held the new sickle he had bought from the Wang family's Wanbaolou in his right hand, infusing the blade with spiritual power.

A knife.

More than a dozen stalks broke off cleanly, with smooth cuts and not even a single grain of rice spilling out.

Zheng Dashan squatted in the ridge next to the field, almost dropping the sickle in his hand.

He turned to look at his son, then looked down at the few stalks of rice he had just cut; the cuts were rough and looked like they had been chewed by a dog.

"Xiao Fei...when did you become so strong?"

"I've been practicing boxing for a few days, so my strength might have increased a bit. Also, I saved up and bought a high-quality sickle."

Zheng Yifei didn't even look up, continuing to bend over and cut rice.

He had a concealment talisman on his body, so his aura fluctuations were only at the first level of Qi Refining.

However, the output efficiency of spiritual power is different from the fluctuation of aura. He simultaneously infused spiritual power into all five meridians, and the density of spiritual power attached to the blade was much higher than that of his father.

Fortunately, Zheng Dashan wasn't very knowledgeable about cultivation theory. He simply assumed that his son, with his five spiritual roots, naturally possessed abundant blood and energy, making him stronger than other cultivators of the same level, and that he also had a high-grade scythe. He didn't think too deeply about it.

The three of them worked from morning till afternoon, and Zheng Yifei alone harvested more rice than his parents combined.

Zheng Dashan became increasingly alarmed as he worked, and eventually stopped altogether, squatting on the edge of the field to watch his son work.

In previous years, it would take a family of three three days to harvest three acres of rice paddies.

This time, it was all done in one day.

The grains were threshed on the second day, dried on the third day, milled on the fourth day, and then handed over.

The processing of spirit rice is simpler than that of rice on Blue Star. Threshing can be done with the spell "Wind Blade", milling can be done twice with a stone mill, and drying can be done by spreading it out in the yard and letting it dry in the sun for a day.

The three mu of spiritual rice produced a total of 2,300 jin of spiritual rice. After deducting the Zhao family's rent of 750 jin, 200 jin were reserved for seed.

Of the remaining 1,300-plus jin, 800 jin need to be sold. That won't even cover the rent for the Zhao family. They'll have to supplement their income by collecting herbs and weaving cloth. They'll keep 500 jin for themselves to eat for six months.

On the afternoon after paying the rent, Zheng Yifei was squatting in the yard turning over the dried rice when a thin figure peeked in from outside the gate.

"Brother Yifei".

He was a boy of thirteen or fourteen years old, with eyebrows and eyes that resembled Zheng Yifei's by a third, but he was much shorter than Zheng Yifei by half a head, with a sallow and thin face. He was wearing a coarse cloth short brown shirt with several patches on it, and the straw sandals on his feet were worn down to the point of falling apart.

Zheng Yifei rummaged through the original owner's memories and recognized the face.

Zheng Ping'an is the son and cousin of his second uncle, Zheng Dahe.

The original owner had very few interactions with this cousin in his memories.

The reason is simple: Zheng Yifei's family lived in a shantytown east of Heishanfang City, while his grandfather Zheng Fuquan, along with his second and third uncles, lived in another shantytown to the south. The two were far apart, requiring half an hour to walk between them.

Although they are from the same family, they rarely interact.

It's not that we don't get along, it's that we're poor.

They were so poor that even visiting relatives was a luxury.

The life of a spiritual farmer consists of farming, paying rent, eating, practicing spiritual cultivation, and then farming again, day after day, year after year.

Relatives rarely visit each other except for weddings and funerals.

"Ping An? What brings you here?"

Zheng Yifei stood up and patted the crumbs of spirit rice off his hands.

Zheng Ping'an stood at the gate of the courtyard, rubbed his hands together, glanced into the courtyard, and whispered, "Brother Yifei, Grandpa sent me here. He said to have Uncle and you go over to help."

"What kind of help do you need?"

"Harvesting rice is a real challenge. My dad and my third uncle can't possibly manage all eight mu of rice paddies."

My third uncle twisted his back last month and still can't straighten up. My father and uncle spent two days harvesting just one acre, and my grandfather is extremely worried.

Eight acres of land, two laborers, and another with a back injury. It's really tough.

Zheng Dashan came out of the house and saw his nephew; his expression became complicated.

"Ping An, did your grandfather send you?"

"Yes, Grandpa said that you should have finished cutting here, Uncle. Could you come over and help for a few days?"

Zheng Dashan remained silent for a moment, then glanced at Zheng Yifei.

Zheng Yifei read a lot from that look.

The relationship between my father and grandfather was not simple.

He calmed himself down and went through the original owner's memories, finally finding some fragments.

Zheng Fuquan has three sons: Zheng Dashan, Zheng Dahe, and Zheng Dajiang. Zheng Dashan is the eldest son, and according to the tradition of Lingnong, a shantytown, the eldest son should live with his parents and take care of them.

But Zheng Dashan was assigned to another position.

The reason is Zheng Yifei.

When Zheng Yifei was ten years old, he had his spiritual roots tested at school and was found to have five spiritual roots. When the news reached his home, his grandfather smashed a bowl on the spot.

Having five spiritual roots is a synonym for being useless, meaning that this grandson will never be able to break through to the second level of Qi Refining in his lifetime and will only be a burden to the family.

Less than a month later, Grandpa Zheng Fuquan separated his eldest son's family, saying that "the family has too little land to support so many people." In reality, he did not want to waste the limited resources on his grandson who had five spiritual roots.

As the eldest son, Zheng Dashan had no choice but to move with his wife and children to the shantytown in the east, where they rented three acres of barren land and started from scratch.

Six years.

Grandpa has never come to visit even once.

I'm too busy in the fields now, so I'm thinking of my eldest son.

"Father, do you want to go?"

Zheng Yifei asked directly.

Zheng Dashan opened his mouth, but finally sighed: "No matter what, he's your grandfather. He's asked, so we can't not go."

Zheng Yifei glanced at his father and said nothing more.

My father was an honest man. He was kicked out of the house by his own father for six years, but he never complained. He still couldn't let go of his old father.

"Okay, I'll go with you. We'll come back as soon as possible."

Zheng Yifei brought the dried rice into the house and gave his mother a few instructions.