"Ah, a man without money is idle, and a woman without money suffers..."
The sky had just begun to lighten.
In the shantytown on the outskirts of Qingyang Market in the Southern Wilderness cultivation world, a wooden door creaked open, and a young man of unremarkable appearance stepped out.
Qin Ming yawned, rubbing his bloodshot eyes with a weary expression. He hoisted his spirit hoe onto his shoulder, ready to head out for the day's work.
Before leaving, he glanced back at his neighbor's courtyard, irritation bubbling up inside him.
"What's with all the noise in the middle of the night? Don't they have any sense of decency?"
His neighbor was a young female cultivator, somewhat attractive, but she often brought male cultivators home to spend the night, engaging in indecent activities.
Last night, her moans and cries had echoed through the night.
'Once I have some spirit stones, even if I can't afford to move, I'll definitely set up a soundproofing array!'
Qin Ming gritted his teeth, making a silent vow to himself. The soundproofing in these houses was truly terrible.
Last night, while Qin Ming was meditating and practicing his cultivation, the noise from next door had been so distracting that his mind wandered, his blood surged, and his Dao heart nearly wavered.
It had been a close call!
In the end, Qin Ming had no choice but to endure the entire night, copying the "Scripture of Pure Serenity" a thousand times to the rhythm of his neighbor's bed creaking, barely managing to calm his mind...
Thinking about the endless work waiting for him in the spirit fields today, Qin Ming's mood soured even further.
"It's been almost five years since I transmigrated to this cultivation world. When will this kind of life ever end?"
"With this kind of environment, how can I even think about cultivating immortality?"
"I can't even get a decent night's sleep!"
"Ah, not having a cheat ability is truly miserable..."
Before coming to this world, Qin Ming had imagined that cultivating immortality would be like soaring through the skies, traveling vast distances in a single day, and wielding sword energy that could span thousands of miles.
But the reality was far from it.
Although cultivating immortality sounded lofty, low-level cultivators like him had no easy life.
Every day was a struggle for survival, and the pressure was immense.
'If it weren't for the fact that the original owner of this body was forcibly conscripted by the Spirit Feather Sect from a cultivation family and sent here to reclaim land, with a mandatory service period of sixty years...'
'I might as well have retired to the mortal world, where at least I could have lived a few decades of decent life.'
After so many years, Qin Ming had come to terms with reality, finally understanding that he was, after all, an ordinary person.
With his four-element pseudo-spiritual root, unless he encountered some extraordinary opportunity, he would never reach the Foundation Establishment stage, even if he cultivated until his dying day.
Over a decade had passed...
Yet his cultivation was still stuck at the second level of Qi Refinement, essentially hopeless in his pursuit of immortality.
It was understandable that his family had given up on him and exchanged him for resources with the sect.
Fortunately, his family had pulled some strings beforehand, so at least he didn't have to go to the front lines and risk his life fighting demonic beasts.
Instead, Qin Ming had rented three acres of spirit fields in the cleared outer regions of the rear area, becoming a spirit farmer.
Today was the day to harvest the spirit rice.
However, Qin Ming's face showed no joy at the prospect of the harvest.
Instead, he felt a sense of unease.
The day of harvest also meant that the higher-ups would come to collect the spirit rice tax.
...
"Hey, little Qin, up so early? Looks like this season's spirit rice is growing well!"
As Qin Ming was lost in thought on his way to the spirit fields, an old farmer-like cultivator emerged from a nearby alley, greeting him with a smile.
The man's cultivation aura was noticeably stronger than Qin Ming's, at the fourth level of Qi Refinement.
"Morning, Old Jiu," Qin Ming replied, forcing a smile.
He sighed heavily.
"Ah, don't even mention it. You know I'm only at the second level of Qi Refinement, and my Spirit Rain Technique is still at the beginner stage. I can only cast it a few times a month."
The man's name was Cai Jiuwu, but most cultivators in the area called him Old Jiu. He was a long-time resident of this shantytown.
Qin Ming didn't know much about his background, only that he had been working in this area for over a decade.
Old Jiu had dark, weathered skin, a wrinkled face, and a scruffy beard. He often carried a pipe and wore rolled-up pants, with a spirit hoe and sickle slung over his shoulder.
He looked more like a beggar than a cultivator.
But from Qin Ming's interactions with him, he knew that Old Jiu was only in his early forties...
"By the way, Old Jiu, with your fourth-level Qi Refinement cultivation and intermediate-level Spirit Rain Technique, your harvest this year should be pretty good, right?"
Qin Ming's tone carried a hint of envy.
The Spirit Rain Technique was a spirit-planting spell passed down by the sect to spirit farmers like them. It allowed them to disperse spiritual energy from spirit crystals, spirit stones, or spirit veins into the air, creating a rain of spiritual energy.
Spirit rice, spirit grains, spirit fruits, and spirit herbs nourished by this rain were not only protected from pests but also saw a significant increase in yield.
Qin Ming had never imagined that farming would be so closely tied to one's cultivation level.
When he had first practiced the Spirit Rain Technique for over half a year, the range of his rain was only about two meters, and the spiritual energy lasted less than half an incense stick's worth of time.
He had felt like giving up...
Others could produce more with a single urination.
"Heh, it's alright, just getting by. After harvesting the spirit rice and paying the taxes today, how about we go to the Gathering Pavilion in the market for a drink to relax?" Old Jiu replied vaguely, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Forget it, that kind of place is too expensive for me," Qin Ming shook his head.
It wasn't that he didn't want to go, but he simply couldn't afford it...
Old Jiu clicked his tongue.
"You're no fun, kid. Life is long, and there's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself once in a while..."
"As the saying goes, 'Drink today's wine today.' For people like us, why bother chasing immortality and the Dao? It's better to wake up early and enjoy life."
"Alright then, are you treating?"
"Get out of here, you rascal!"
...
Before long, a massive mountain shrouded in mist came into view. The mountains were vast and majestic, with waterfalls cascading down their sides, creating a scene straight out of an ink painting.
On the half-slope of the mountain, hundreds of acres of spirit fields were terraced in an orderly fashion.
The area was supplied with spiritual energy from a first-grade spirit vein, making it more than sufficient for growing low-grade spirit grains and plants.
The golden spirit ears in the fields shimmered brilliantly, swaying in the wind and releasing the unique fragrance of spirit rice, attracting flocks of birds.
"Clang!"
Before the birds could land, a loud noise erupted.
A simple scarecrow puppet in the spirit fields activated, its spirit gong emitting a piercing sound wave that sent the birds scattering.
Qin Ming and Old Jiu made their way along the mountain path to their respective spirit fields and began their work.
In his field, Qin Ming stared at one particular plot, his lips twitching slightly in frustration.
About half an acre of his spirit rice was still green, standing out starkly against the surrounding golden crops.
To an outsider, it might have looked like he was growing garlic sprouts instead of spirit rice...
The reason for this was clear to Qin Ming.
His Spirit Rain Technique wasn't proficient enough, and its low level meant he couldn't cast it frequently or evenly distribute the rain.
"Looks like this season's harvest will be smaller. I wonder if I'll be able to cover the taxes this time," Qin Ming thought with worry.
Shaking his head, he began harvesting the spirit ears.
His spirit sickle sliced through the stalks, and the rice fell in neat bundles, which he expertly tied together.
The spirit rice here could be harvested three times a year. As long as the roots were left intact, the rice would regrow in a few months, allowing for another harvest.
It was almost like cutting leeks.
As the sun set in the west, Qin Ming finished harvesting, threshing, and bagging the spirit rice.
His spiritual energy was completely drained, and he was as exhausted as a dog.
Just as he wiped the sweat from his brow, he heard the sound of a magical tool cutting through the air.
Qin Ming looked up to see a green-leaf flying boat descending from the sky, leaving a trail of green light in its wake.
A man stepped off the boat.
He was a portly middle-aged cultivator, dressed in the blue-and-white robes of the Spirit Feather Sect's outer sect. His large belly swayed as he walked, exuding an air of authority.
This man, Du Haifu, was the overseer of this area's spirit fields.
He controlled all the spirit fields and spirit farmers on this mountain, making him a veritable local tyrant to people like Qin Ming.
"Hehe, little Qin, you're quite efficient! You've already finished harvesting the spirit rice."
Du Haifu opened one of Qin Ming's spirit rice bags, pinched a few grains, and sniffed them.
He then popped the grains into his mouth, chewing slowly before nodding with satisfaction.
"Hmm, the quality is quite good. It seems you've put in a lot of effort."
Du Haifu pulled out a measuring tool from his storage pouch and began weighing the rice.
"Two stones and eighty pounds of spirit rice. The tax is seventy percent, so that's one hundred and ninety-six pounds..."
"Wait a minute..."
"Why is this fifty pounds less than last season's harvest?" Du Haifu's smile vanished instantly.
After checking a ledger, his expression turned cold, and he fixed his gaze on Qin Ming.
Qin Ming's heart sank.
He quickly pulled out a small pouch from his robe and handed it over with a forced smile.
"Elder Du, I apologize. There were some issues with the spirit fields. I'll make up for the missing half bag with these spirit stones. Please be lenient."
Though it pained him to part with the stones, Qin Ming had no choice. The pouch contained most of his savings.
In reality, the Spirit Feather Sect only collected a fifty percent tax on spirit rice, but the layers of bureaucracy—first the sect, then the overseers, and finally the spirit farmers—meant that by the time the rice reached him, there was little left.
The small pouch of spirit stones would likely end up in Du Haifu's personal stash.
Du Haifu weighed the pouch in his hand, his expression softening slightly.
But he still warned Qin Ming, "Just this once. Don't let it happen again!"
With a wave of his hand, the bags of spirit rice disappeared into his storage pouch.
Qin Ming couldn't help but envy Du Haifu's storage pouch and the green-leaf flying boat.
He could never afford such things...
"Do you know how much Old Jiu paid in taxes this season?" Du Haifu suddenly asked, holding up two fingers.
"More than double what you paid!"
"You can't keep going on like this."
"Since you're being cooperative, I'll give you a tip."
"I've heard that during the next tax collection, the sect's elders will review this year's spirit rice tax records. The bottom ten spirit farmers will be sent to the front lines to replenish the ranks."
"You'd better watch out."
With that, Du Haifu left without waiting for Qin Ming's response, leaving him standing there in shock.
"Sent to the front lines?"
...
Night fell.
Qin Ming carried the remaining spirit rice back to his house.
With a loud thud, he closed the door and collapsed onto his bed, lying flat on his back like a dead dog.
His mind was in turmoil.
He stared blankly at the ceiling, replaying Du Haifu's words in his head.
He knew that with his current spirit rice yield, he would undoubtedly be among the bottom ten.
The Spirit Feather Sect's front lines were notorious for their high casualty rate, a place everyone feared.
The so-called land reclamation involved sending cultivators to reclaim uninhabited wilderness areas in the cultivation world.
These areas were often occupied by demonic beasts or filled with natural hazards, making them extremely dangerous.
Not to mention the inexplicable and eerie threats that made it difficult to cultivate in peace.
To put it bluntly, the sect needed a large number of low-level cultivators to act as cannon fodder.
Being a spirit farmer was hard work, but at least it was stable.
In this world, many people struggled just to survive.
What others despised as menial labor had now become Qin Ming's lifeline in this sea of suffering.
'What should I do? I don't want to be cannon fodder at the front lines!'
'I can't accept this!'
As Qin Ming pondered, exhaustion finally overtook him, and he fell into a deep sleep...
Suddenly!
A dazzling light flashed through the depths of his soul.
Qin Ming had a long, strange dream.
In the dream, all sorts of bizarre plants grew at an incredible rate, their vines and leaves stretching to cover the sky...
"Boom!"
Then, something seemed to explode in his mind.
...
The next day.
Qin Ming woke up with a throbbing headache, feeling disoriented.
He fetched a basin of water and went to the flowerbed in his courtyard to wash up.
The flowerbed contained a few dozen spirit rice plants, which he used to study crop behavior and occasionally practice the Spirit Rain Technique.
But when Qin Ming looked at the flowerbed, he froze.
Above three of the spirit rice plants, a series of prompts appeared:
**[Name]**: Golden Spirit Rice
**[Trait]**: Accelerated Growth (Maturity: 100%, Harvestable)
**[Name]**: Golden Spirit Rice
**[Trait]**: Intermediate Spirit Rain Technique x5 (Maturity: 100%, Harvestable)
**[Name]**: Golden Spirit Rice
**[Trait]**: Faint Spiritual Power (Maturity: 100%, Harvestable)
Qin Ming rubbed his eyes in disbelief, muttering to himself,
"I must have slept wrong."
"Did I mess up my sleeping posture last night?"
(End of Chapter)