Chapter Two: The Harvest

Qin Ming stared intently at the three golden entries, their radiant words flickering in and out of sight. He checked and rechecked, confirming they were real; his heart surged with ecstatic joy.

A golden finger!

This was his very own golden finger!

For so long, Qin Ming thought his path to immortality would end here, without surprise or hope. Now, against all odds, hope had blossomed anew within him.

Suppressing his excitement, Qin Ming ignored his morning routine and carefully approached the three stalks of spiritual rice. He surveyed all the plants in the courtyard, but only these three displayed entries.

“Can I just harvest them directly?”

He reached out and snapped the three stalks at their roots. As he collected the spiritual rice, a flash of green and two streaks of white light shot out from within, transforming into three leaves that drifted quietly into his mind’s sea.

The green leaf bore the “Accelerate Growth” entry.

The two white leaves carried “Weak Mana” and “Intermediate Spirit Rain Technique—five uses.”

A single thought was all it took to activate them.

Qin Ming returned to his room and closed the door behind him. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, he focused his will on a white leaf. The “Weak Mana” entry vanished instantly.

In that moment, a surge of mana erupted in his dantian, startling him. He hurriedly guided and transformed this energy along the route of his family’s “Everlasting Spring Technique.”

“It claimed to be weak mana, yet it’s so abundant!”

After a long while, feeling the changes within his dantian, Qin Ming’s face lit up with satisfaction.

“My mana has grown stronger—equal to three months of hard cultivation.”

The bottleneck that kept him stuck at the second level of Qi Refining had finally loosened. With more entries like this, the third level was within reach!

Even more astonishing, these entries could be stored directly in his mind’s sea for later use—so convenient!

“Entries like ‘Weak Mana’ could save my life in a critical moment. I must stock up whenever possible,” Qin Ming resolved silently.

Having tasted the benefits, his spirits soared. He was eager to test the other two entries, but soon calmed himself.

“Don’t get carried away—stay composed! I must keep to my usual routines. My strength is still too low; I can’t let anyone notice anything unusual. Steady growth is best.”

With that, Qin Ming rose and went to the kitchen, lighting a fire and cooking with yesterday’s newly harvested spiritual rice. He prepared several delicate dishes.

Normally, after paying taxes, he would sell his leftover spiritual rice at the market, living frugally to exchange for cultivation resources. He seldom ate spiritual rice more than a few times a month.

Spiritual rice contained spiritual energy—not as much as the entries, but precious enough for ordinary cultivators.

After breakfast, Qin Ming took his spiritual hoe and, at his usual hour, went to his spiritual field.

He wandered about, observing all the nearby fields and plants. He discovered something: apart from a single stalk in his half-acre of immature spiritual rice—bearing a “Weak Mana” entry—no other plant displayed an entry.

Only the spiritual plants he personally cultivated could generate entries, and the chance was exceedingly low. There were thousands of stalks in his field, but only one had an entry—a pitifully rare occurrence.

The sudden appearance of three entry-bearing stalks in his flower bed was nothing short of a stroke of luck.

Still, Qin Ming believed that if he kept planting, more entries would eventually appear.

His spiritual field was situated far at the back of a hillside, shielded by a dense bamboo grove and rarely visited by others. The overseer, Du Haifu, only appeared to collect taxes and seldom patrolled unless something serious happened.

Yesterday, the spiritual farmers had already harvested their rice, so the fields were empty.

Qin Ming stared at the sole entry-bearing stalk, watching for half a day, yet could not discern any difference between it and its neighbors.

It was truly baffling…

Seeing no one around, Qin Ming decided to use the other two entries.

Du Haifu’s words from yesterday had left him with a sense of urgency. He could not go to the frontlines and die in vain—his current combat strength was nothing but cannon fodder.

“Let’s try accelerating the growth of this half-acre of spiritual rice and see what happens.”

Qin Ming took a deep breath, focused his will, and used “Accelerate Growth” and one use of “Intermediate Spirit Rain Technique.”

The green leaf in his mind’s sea vanished, and the “Intermediate Spirit Rain Technique” reduced to four uses.

Qin Ming formed a seal and pointed above the half-acre of rice. A cluster of gray spiritual clouds quickly gathered overhead, covering the entire field.

Rain fell with a soft whisper, enhanced by the growth-accelerating effect.

“This intermediate technique is worlds apart from the basic one. The rainfall area and spiritual energy conversion are greatly improved. Most importantly, it can tap into the spiritual vein—unmatched.”

Qin Ming savored the casting experience, cherishing the rare opportunity to comprehend the flow of mana in the intermediate technique.

In time, a realization dawned: the difference lay in mastery of mana and efficient use of spiritual energy during casting.

No more sluggishness in his mana flow.

Cai Lao Jiu had spent years raising the technique to intermediate level.

The rain lasted a full incense stick’s time—far longer than Qin Ming could ever have managed before—though his mana was depleted by the end.

Still too weak…

He sat down, pale and exhausted, wiping sweat from his brow.

A full incense stick’s duration! Previously, he could only manage three seconds with the basic technique.

“Ha! I can keep it up this long now—not just a few drops anymore!” Confidence returned to him.

After a rest, Qin Ming examined the effects. In less than half a day, the rice grew at an astonishing rate, shooting upwards like the wild plants from his dreams.

Growth doubled before slowing, nearly ready to bear grain.

“This speed… incredible…”

The combination of accelerated growth and intermediate rain left Qin Ming stunned.

He had spread the entry’s effect across the whole field; if he focused it on a single stalk, it would be ready for harvest instantly.

Clearly, green-quality entries were extremely rare—he must use them sparingly.

As he marveled at his luck, the entry on the rice stalk changed:

Name: Golden Spiritual Rice
Entry: Weak Mana (Ripeness 70%)

At this rate, he could harvest it by tomorrow morning.

Sure enough, the next morning, the half-acre of spiritual rice was fully ripe.

Yield had increased by twenty percent, and the rice grains were plump, crystalline, and fragrant—higher quality than before.

No wonder the intermediate technique was so effective, drawing spiritual energy straight from the vein.

Most gratifying was that the entry-bearing rice had already been converted into cultivation.

Qin Ming was delighted, his hopes for the future rising.

…

Half a month passed swiftly.

During this time, Qin Ming tended his original three acres, then sought out Du Haifu to rent two more adjacent acres.

After tilling, he planted new rice seedlings.

He used the intermediate rain entry three more times, with one use left.

He gradually mastered the casting technique, believing that with practice, he could soon perform the intermediate Spirit Rain Technique without relying on entries.

Direct experience was far superior to blind practice.

Du Haifu was pleased to see Qin Ming renting more land, praising him for finally coming to his senses—hoping to profit from more rented fields.

Little did he know, Qin Ming’s diligence was just to generate more entries…

After half a month’s hard work, the five acres were nearly ready, awaiting the next harvest.

Qin Ming finally had some free time.

Over the next two days, he planned to sell some of his spiritual rice and purchase cultivation supplies.

Urgently, he needed two things.

First, a storage pouch—carrying bundles everywhere was too inconvenient.

Second, a soundproof array…

Qin Ming changed clothes, loaded his rice, and set out.

“Hey! Friend Qin, off to the market to sell rice? Looks like a good harvest!”

“Rare indeed, Friend Qin.”

Neighbors greeted him as he left.

Navigating the maze of alleys, Qin Ming reached the main street.

Two cultivators approached—a man and a woman.

“Friend Long.”

“Friend Qin.”

Qin Ming respectfully put down his bag and greeted them.

The man, surnamed Long, was the only late-stage Qi Refining cultivator in their shantytown, having reached the eighth level years ago.

The woman beside him was Li Yanli, Qin Ming’s neighbor; their closeness suggested she had latched onto his support.

The area’s security was poor, but thanks to Friend Long’s presence, petty criminals were deterred.

The Great Reclamation by Spirit Feather Gate had drawn many low-level cultivators, as well as bandits targeting them. Patrols were frequent, but murder and robbery still occurred.

After a brief greeting, Friend Long left with Li Yanli.

To them, Qin Ming was a low-level spiritual farmer, beneath notice—the greeting was mere neighborly courtesy.

Qin Ming wasn’t bothered. A late-stage cultivator’s pride was understandable.

He watched them go, realizing tonight would likely bring another “battle.” He sighed, prioritizing the purchase of a soundproof array.

Soon, the grand archway of “Qingyang Market” appeared.

Inside, crowds thronged the stalls, hawkers calling out.

Following the main street, Qin Ming went straight to the central area and knocked at the back door of a shop.

Someone answered and, seeing Qin Ming, asked him to wait while they fetched the shopkeeper.

After a short wait, a middle-aged man in a white-gold brocade robe emerged.

The shopkeeper, at the sixth level of Qi Refining, greeted Qin Ming with professional warmth.

“Here to sell spiritual rice? Come in, let’s talk.”

In the backyard, Qin Ming set down his rice and bowed.

“This is it—about a hundred pounds.”

The shopkeeper ordered his staff to inspect and weigh the rice.

“Golden Spiritual Rice, one hundred and eight pounds.”

“I can buy at the market rate: one low-grade spirit stone per five pounds. Is that acceptable?”

“Deal,” Qin Ming agreed readily. He had sold rice here before—an introduction from Cai Lao Jiu.

He could have gotten slightly more at a market stall, but with fees and complications, this method was safer and more stable.

“If you have more rice in the future, bring it here—I’ll buy any amount.”

The shopkeeper handed over twenty-one spirit stones and a few fragments.

“By the way, do you sell soundproof arrays?” Qin Ming asked.

“Of course,” the shopkeeper replied, pulling a simple array from his storage pouch.

“Low-grade soundproof array, ten spirit stones.”

Qin Ming gripped his newly earned stones, hesitating. “Can you give me a discount? I’ll buy a storage pouch as well.”

“Very well—ten for the array, twelve for the pouch. I’ll knock off one stone; twenty-one in total.”

The transaction complete, Qin Ming left the shop.

“It’s always spent as soon as it’s earned—not a penny left to take home,” he sighed.

He visited nearby shops, bought books on spiritual plants and daily essentials, and hurried home.

Though the outing had cost him dearly, Qin Ming was confident he’d soon earn more spirit stones.

…