Cultivating Immortality in a World of Chaos

Early Spring.

The spirit farmers of the shanty town wore expressions of joy, some even donning rare new clothes as if heading to a celebration.

Fang Xi walked amidst the bamboo grove, casually waving his right hand.

Qinghe Sword flew forth, slicing off a section of bamboo.

He tapped on the bamboo tube, listening to its solid resonance, and nodded with satisfaction. “The spirit rice is ripe.”

In the next moment, Fang Xi ignited a flame beneath the bamboo tube to roast it.

As time passed, a fragrant aroma, blending the scent of rice with that of bamboo, gradually filled the air.

This was another way to enjoy spirit bamboo rice, by making bamboo rice dishes.

For days now, he had remained in the bamboo grove, diligently guarding the hard-earned, ripening spirit rice against potential thieves and pests alike. So committed was he that he hadn’t even ventured to Great Liang during this period.

And today, finally, it was harvest time!

Pop!

After a while, the bamboo tube burst open, revealing the abundant spirit rice within.

Freshly harvested, each grain of spirit rice was plump and evenly distributed, practically melting on the tongue. The enticing fragrance alone was invigorating and refreshing.

Paired with Fang Xi’s own cured meat, it made for a satisfying meal.

After eating, Fang Xi felt his body brimming with spiritual energy. Without delay, he promptly began circulating the Everlasting Spring Art to harness it.

Once finished, he set up a stance and proceeded to practice his palm strikes.

“Zzzt… Little Fang, are you cultivating your physique?”

Lost in concentration over martial arts, an unknown amount of time had passed when Fang Xi heard a teasing voice. He quickly looked up to see an iron-leaf boat magical artifact descending gently from the sky, carrying a single person aboard.

The newcomer was a male cultivator around thirty years old, dressed in azure blue official robes, with a jovial expression that exuded affluence.

Fang Xi hastily ceased his training, stood up, and greeted him with a smile, “Greetings, Manager Situ.”

Noticing the man observing him, Fang Xi added hastily, still smiling, “Just passing the time practicing mundane martial arts, truly embarrassing, most embarrassing…”

This rotund man in blue attire was named Situ Ying, a member of the Situ Clan who oversaw part of the spirit fields.

To many spirit farmers on the mountain, Situ Ying was akin to a local emperor, wielding immense power over their lives.

“Hmm, this patch of spirit bamboo looks quite healthy; you’ve clearly been diligent,” Situ Ying observed as he walked through the grove, assessing the growth of spirit rice with a slight nod.

“Oh no, it’s mainly due to Qingzhu Mountain’s exceptional spiritual environment and abundant qi that allows the spirit rice to thrive so well,” Fang Xi replied, flattering while discreetly producing a small brocade pouch to hand over.

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Inside the pouch were his remaining few spirit crystals.

Situ Ying accepted it without even needing to check, knowing the exact amount instantly. His expression softened further, “Good lad, you understand… Very well, let’s begin the harvest.”

This scene reminded Fang Xi of historical accounts from books he read in his previous life - perhaps ancient landlords interacting with tenant farmers during harvest times resembled something similar?

As both were cultivators, the harvesting process went swiftly.

Swish! Swish!

Patches of bamboo groves fell, transforming into bamboo rice.

Finally, Situ Ying retrieved a specialized weighing magical artifact from his bag of holding at his waist, starting to measure the yield.

“A storage artifact?”

Fang Xi gazed enviously at the unassuming, dusty-looking pouch hanging from Situ Ying’s waist. He didn’t possess such a storage magical artifact…

“This year’s harvest is good, yielding two hundred and forty pounds of spirit rice… The landlord’s share amounts to half, which is one hundred twenty pounds!” Situ Ying manipulated his abacus beads. “The price for spirit bamboo rice has risen recently. If you sell your personal portion, I can give you four spirit stones…”

Fang Xi quickly calculated and, with some reluctance, said, “I’ll keep half this time…”

As per their lease agreement, he was entitled to half the yield, which amounted to one hundred twenty pounds of spirit rice.

To sell this spirit rice, Fang Xi could only do so through the Situ Clan. They operated a rice shop in the market, allowing them to significantly undercut the price and offer fewer spirit crystals than its worth.

Moreover, as spirit farmers often practiced cultivation themselves, they typically needed to retain most of their harvest.

However, Situ Ying’s immediate request for Fang Xi to sell even his portion seemed rather greedy.

“Half, fine then… Here, take sixty pounds.”

Situ Ying gathered the spirit rice into his bag of holding, tossed a small pouch containing spirit crystals, and departed on his iron-leaf boat.

Fang Xi opened the bag and found only eighteen spirit crystals inside, cursing under his breath, “Bloodsucking leeches, always taking their cut. Don’t fall into my hands someday…”

Despite this, most farmers still needed to retain a portion for cultivation purposes.

After harvesting spirit bamboo rice, it was necessary to wait until summer for the next planting cycle.

The sowing process here was peculiar too; no paddy seeds were needed. Instead, stimulating the growth of spirit bamboo roots would produce new shoots directly.

With spring harvest completed and the next planting season not until summer, there emerged a period of agricultural downtime.

Fang Xi leisurely strolled back to his shack, contemplating whether he should renovate it.

As he opened his door, he noticed with surprise that Old Man Mai’s hut already had a newcomer residing within.

“Greetings, Fellow Daoist Fang? I am Chen Ping, the newly arrived spirit farmer.”

Chen Ping appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties, with an initial Qi Refinement cultivation base, and his features seemed quite ordinary. He flashed a friendly smile and handed over a low-grade ‘Dust Repelling Talisman’, saying, “A small token of goodwill, please accept my regards.”

“Many thanks. Let’s keep in touch.”

Fang Xi smiled and exchanged pleasantries before returning to his room. Rubbing his chin, he mused, “In the past, spirit farmers would at most gift some sweets or spirit rice… This new fellow seems quite well-off… Could he be a symbol master?”

However, this thought was quickly followed by a poignant realization.

Old Man Mai had been a spirit farmer for several decades, but upon his death, few remembered him. Even his house and fields were swiftly reassigned.

Such is the harsh reality of the cultivation world!

At its lowest levels, cultivators are treated like ants or crops of leeks—easily cut down, knowing they’ll just grow back again.

“Yesterday it was Old Man Mai, tomorrow it might be me!” Fang Xi chuckled bitterly.

Given his reserved nature, even fewer people would likely remember him when the time came.

“Well then… I should use this downtime between farming tasks to focus on my cultivation.”

Fang Xi practiced the Qi Refinement third layer technique from the Everlasting Spring Art daily, but progress remained slow. Conversely, his martial art, the White Cloud Palm, showed signs of rapid advancement.

In Great Liang, at the Baiyun Dojo.

“Elder Brother Fang!”

“Greetings, Elder Brother.”

Fang Xi, dressed in white martial attire, entered the dojo with outer courtyard disciples smiling admiringly, some even fawning over him.

Initially, they were impressed solely by Landlord Fang’s wealth, but now their admiration also stemmed from his prowess as a formidable practitioner.

The reason was clear - Fang Xi’s progress had been astonishingly swift!

Not only did he rapidly complete the first transformation of blood and qi while training at home, but recently, he also announced breaking through to the second transformation!

This advancement left countless individuals secretly envious.

‘However… what good does envy serve?’

Fang Xi smiled faintly and proceeded towards the inner courtyard of the Baiyun Dojo.

“Eldest Sister!”

After greeting Mu Piaomiao, he headed straight to a makeshift earthen stove.

Constructed from blue bricks, this stove held an iron cauldron on top. Upon Fang Xi’s arrival, servants promptly lit the stove and began pouring bags of medicinal ingredients into the cauldron.

Upon closer inspection, amidst these herbs, one could spot wriggling venomous creatures like centipedes and spiders, enough to make anyone’s scalp tingle.

“Now that my White Cloud Palm has reached two transformations through the forging method, it’s time to infuse poison within its power!” Fang Xi gazed at his palms.

After undergoing two transformations of blood and qi, his palm skin had become as resilient as bullhide, strong and robust.

This was the foundational requirement for cultivating poison-based techniques.

Infusing poison into one’s palm inevitably harms the body. Even with Baiyun Dojo’s specialized antidotes, accumulated exposure over time can lead to terrifying injuries.

Roar!

Flames licked vigorously at the pot’s base, causing the liquid inside to thicken, turning dark green-black and emitting a foul odor…

Unfazed, Fang Xi waited until the water boiled before plunging both hands into the cauldron.

Sizzle!

The boiling toxin-infused liquid swirled around his palms as he silently circulated his blood and qi, absorbing the power of the toxins.

‘Indeed, only with the enhanced physique and blood qi after achieving two transformations can I slightly absorb these toxins… Attempting this prematurely could have permanently damaged my hands!’

After an hour of cultivation, Fang Xi withdrew his deeply reddened hands and examined his palms.

As he circulated his blood and qi, small gray clusters appeared within his palms.

“So this is the Poisonous Palm technique? The White Cloud realm’s transition to Black Clouds? No…this should just be the beginning…”

The White Cloud Palm has three stages: White Cloud, Dark Cloud, and Black Cloud!

In the initial White Cloud stage, encompassing one or two transformations of blood and qi, the palms become as pure white as jade.

At the Dark Cloud stage, corresponding to the third transformation, activating the technique turns the palms pitch-black, indicating moderate mastery of poison.

Currently, Fang Xi was transitioning between the second and third transformations.

Finally, the ultimate Black Cloud level signifies true proficiency, achieving full mastery of the Poisonous Palm!

It was rumored that when Mu Canglong fully unleashed his power, his palms turned jet black like ink, even exuding toxic aura with each strike!

“With ample resources, I can acquire various exotic poisons for refining into my palms, accelerating my progress significantly…”

Fang Xi withdrew his hands, silently contemplating his martial arts advancement.

Additionally, using his spiritual sense for introspection allowed him to repair bodily damage and expel toxins, providing another significant advantage!

With these numerous advantages, Fang Xi’s progress with the White Cloud Palm was rapid, surpassing even Wu Ji. Although Wu Ji maintained his friendly demeanor publicly, there was now a discernible hint of envy in his gaze when Fang Xi wasn’t looking.

‘In the entire dojo, considering martial skills alone, only Mu Piaomiao and Mu Canglong seem to be above me,’ Fang Xi thought privately.

‘Wu Ji lacks maturity, and Liu Taotao has certain character flaws. As for steadiness and sincerity, Tang Xuan might just outshine them all in the future… It could be worthwhile to cultivate a friendship with him.’

As he pondered, the handsome Wu Ji entered the backyard, wearing a warm smile on his face. “Junior Brother Fang…”

“Elder Brother Wu, can I help you with something?” Fang Xi raised an eyebrow.

“Well… due to intense martial training lately, my funds have been running low. I wonder if Junior Brother…” Wu Ji began, implying a request for a loan.

‘This little boat of friendship is about to capsize,’ Fang Xi inwardly rolled his eyes.