Time flowed like water, neither hurried nor slow. In the blink of an eye, half a month had passed.

During these two weeks, Jiang Chen lived a life far more disciplined than when he had been a boss in his previous life. He rose with the sun and rested at its setting. There were no social engagements, no business dinners—only the one mu of black soil before him that Tie Zhu had turned over until it gleamed.

In the early morning, Jiang Chen sat cross-legged on the ridge between the fields. With each breath, a faint white vapor shot from his nostrils like an arrow.

He slowly concluded his cultivation session and looked at the rows of Spirit Rice seedlings before him, just beginning to sprout tender green tips. A flicker of affection—the kind only an old farmer would understand—passed through his eyes.

With the support of the Evergreen Art at the Second Layer, the spiritual power within him was no longer a stagnant pool but a trickling stream—thin, yet alive.

The original three strands of spiritual power had now differentiated into a sixth strand [of Qi]..

“At this rate, as long as the Spirit Rice matures smoothly, my cultivation should stabilize at the peak of the early Qi Condensation stage. I might even touch the threshold of the mid-stage.”

Jiang Chen took a dry, shriveled steamed bun from his robe and took a bite while mentally calculating his accounts.

He hadn’t been idle these past two weeks.

Besides cultivating and tending to the seedlings, he hadn’t thrown away the “defective products”—the blackened, moldy grains he had cleared out earlier.

In his previous life in agricultural trade, he couldn’t stand seeing food go to waste. Those spoiled old grains might not be fit for human consumption, but they could be used as feed… or fermented.

He found a broken earthenware jar, crushed the waste rice inside, mixed it with mountain spring water, and—relying on rustic methods from memory—tossed in some yeast grass. He sealed it and buried it under his bed.

He wasn’t sure if it would work, but idle hands are the devil’s workshop. He treated it as a virtually zero-cost “venture investment.”

Just as he was pondering this, a familiar voice sounded from not far away.

Jiang Chen looked up and immediately brushed the dirt off his pants as he went to greet the visitor.

It was Chen Bo.

This Senior Brother was like the “beat cop” for the Spirit Farm area. He usually patrolled to check on each Spirit Farmer’s planting situation and relay sect directives.

“Senior Brother Chen, so early?” Jiang Chen wore an appropriately polite smile—neither fawning nor distant.

Chen Bo looked somewhat weary, his eyes bloodshot. He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it. My head’s been pounding these past few days. Those new Spirit Farmers are all too ambitious. They just planted their seedlings and immediately wanted to fertilize and force maturity. Ended up burning several mu of seedlings to death. I have to clean up their mess.”

As he spoke, he casually glanced over Jiang Chen’s Spirit Farm.

It was meant to be a routine glance, but Chen Bo’s gaze suddenly halted.

It was too orderly.

Those rows of tender green seedlings looked as if they had been measured with a ruler—the spacing was precise down to the last detail. Moreover, each plant stood vigorous and spirited, its leaves fully spread—clear signs of sufficient earth energy and appropriate moisture levels.

How could this look like it was planted by someone who nearly failed out? This looked like the work of an old hand with decades of experience!

“This field… did Tie Zhu turn it over?” Chen Bo saw the key point at a glance.

“Senior Brother has keen eyes.” Jiang Chen didn’t hide or evade; he openly admitted it. “I know my foundation is weak and didn’t dare be overconfident. So I paid a small price to ask Senior Brother Tie for help.”

“You’re quite willing to invest upfront.”

Chen Bo gave Jiang Chen a somewhat surprised look.

Most Outer Peak disciples were stingy; they’d want to split every Spirit Stone they had in half before spending it. It was rare to see someone like Jiang Chen who dared to “outsource” work before even seeing a harvest.

“Not just willing to invest capital.” Chen Bo walked to the edge of the field and crouched down. He gently brushed his fingers over a seedling, sensing the residual spiritual power fluctuations on it—warm, smooth, without any trace of impatient heat. “I see your Evergreen Art… has improved quite a bit too?”

“Got lucky. Just broke through to the Second Layer two days ago,” Jiang Chen said modestly.

Chen Bo stood up. The trace of condescension in his eyes completely vanished, replaced by a hint of appreciation.

This Junior Brother gave him one distinct impression: steady.

Compared to those so-called “geniuses” who were all talk and no action, harboring lofty ambitions but possessing low skills, this kind of person—who knew their limits and acted methodically—was precisely the type who lived longest in the cultivation world.

“You’ve been walking all morning; you must be thirsty?”

Jiang Chen turned and walked into his dilapidated wooden hut. Shortly after, he came out holding a coarse porcelain bowl.

The water inside had a slight yellowish tint. Even before getting close, one could smell a strange odor—a bit sour, a bit astringent—but faintly carrying the mellow aroma of fermented grain.

“I just tinkered with it myself.” Jiang Chen smiled somewhat sheepishly. “Those discarded Spirit Rice grains earlier… seemed wasteful to throw away. So I tried soaking them to see if I could make some ‘rice juice’ for refreshment. The taste might be odd, but it helps with fatigue.”

This was the product of the earthenware jar buried under his bed.

While it hadn’t turned into wine yet—at best it was just a “fermented beverage”—it was enough to demonstrate his attitude: Even with a handful of rotten rice, I can turn waste into treasure.

Chen Bo was an easygoing person. He took the bowl and took a small sip.

It tasted slightly sour at first, followed by an astringent flavor. But after swallowing it down, an extremely faint warmth actually rose from his stomach. His originally somewhat depleted spiritual power seemed to stir slightly.

Chen Bo’s eyes lit up. “Interesting! Though crude… this thing… is a bit like mortal wine?”

“Please don’t laugh at me for this crude attempt,” Jiang Chen said with an honest smile, while observing Chen Bo’s reaction closely out of the corner of his eye.

“I just didn’t want to waste food.”

Chen Bo drank that bowl of sour-astringent rice juice in one go and let out a long sigh. He did feel somewhat refreshed.

He looked at Jiang Chen and suddenly had an idea.

His cousin Chen Tian possessed exceptional talent; he was already a much-noticed genius among inner disciples.

But his personality was too arrogant; he knew nothing about daily life matters.

The attendants around him changed batch after batch; none satisfied him.

If there were someone like Jiang Chen… meticulous in thought, steady in action, and capable of turning waste into treasure to manage miscellaneous affairs…

Chen Bo put down the bowl and patted Jiang Chen’s shoulder meaningfully.

“Keep up the good work. In this cultivation world, there may be many geniuses, but those who go far are often those who can endure patiently.”

Jiang Chen’s heart stirred; he knew this move had been correct.

“Thank you for your guidance, Senior Brother.”

He cupped his hands respectfully in salute, his posture still deferential.

“Oh, and let me give you some inside information.”

Before leaving, Chen Bo lowered his voice.

“For this assessment, that Wang Hu might tamper with the weighing scales. When the time comes… you’d better have a backup plan ready.”

After saying this, Chen Bo turned away, his footsteps noticeably lighter now.

Jiang Chen stood where he was, watching Chen Bo’s retreating figure, his gaze gradually deepening.

That bowl of unpalatable rice juice had bought him crucial information and a potential connection-building opportunity.

Jiang Chen sneered coldly inwardly.

This was why he insisted on finding Tie Zhu; this was why he pushed the Evergreen Art relentlessly toward the Second Layer.

What he wanted wasn’t barely meeting the thousand-jin quota mark.

What he wanted was an absolute surplus yield—so high that even after deductions or sabotage attempts, what remained would still slap his opponent’s face hard!

Jiang Chen turned around and looked toward the other end of the fields where a neighboring plot lay.

There, Lin An led a young female cultivator dressed in blue-white robes toward his field—she belonged to the [Rain Pavilion] sect branch!

“So Lin An actually managed to hire a Water Spirit Root disciple to cast the ‘Minor Rain Spell’?”

Instead of rushing to dig ditches himself immediately, Jiang Chen stood among the crowd, watching the spectacle unfold quietly from the sidelines.

That Outer Peak disciple named Lin An bowed obsequiously toward the Rain Pavilion female cultivator. “Senior Sister Zhao, please, I must trouble you. My seedlings are truly parched; without rain, they’ll dry up and die soon!”

The female cultivator called Senior Sister Zhao wore an expression of haughty disdain. She glanced at the muddy ridge and didn’t even set foot on the ground, standing directly atop a floating water leaf instead.

“You know the rules, right?” Senior Sister Zhao spoke indifferently.

“Yes, yes!” Lin An gritted his teeth, looking pained as if cutting his own flesh. “Forty percent of the harvest belongs to Senior Sister!”

The surrounding Spirit Farmers watching collectively gasped.

Work hard the entire season, subtract seed costs and fertilizer costs, then give away forty percent? How much was left for oneself? It was practically working as free labor for the Rain Pavilion!

But Lin An had no choice: his skills were poor and his earth energy insufficient. Without relying on this spiritual rain as a lifeline, he wouldn’t even reach the assessment passing line!

Senior Sister Zhao waved a slender hand gracefully.

Water spiritual energy in the air rapidly gathered, forming a dark cloud several zhang wide that hovered over Lin An’s Spirit Farm plot.

Spiritual rain fell, carrying abundant spiritual energy. The previously wilted, drooping seedlings visibly perked up!

Lin An stood within the rain, crying and laughing simultaneously.

Jiang Chen watched coldly from the side, his mental abacus clicking loudly.

Costs: Dignity + 40% revenue share. Benefits: Yield increase ~30% (estimated), retain assessment qualification. Evaluation: Drinking poison to quench thirst. Ceding profit due to a deficiency in core technology (irrigation) is a major business taboo!

Someone nearby urged Jiang Chen: “Your field, though tilled, still lacks water too! While Senior Sister Zhao is here, why not beg a favor? Maybe get a discount?”

Jiang Chen smiled and shook his head. “Too expensive. I can’t afford it.”

He turned and walked back toward his own plot instead.

Looking at the pile of discarded bamboo poles he had bought for two broken Spirit Stones earlier, Jiang Chen’s gaze was firm.

“Rather than sharing profits with others, better to build infrastructure properly! Though bamboo pipe irrigation lacks the spiritual energy advantage, its value lies in being free and lasting!”

He picked up a shovel and began digging channels, laying pipes alongside the field’s edge.

As long as the water was channeled here, combined with daily nurturing via the Second Layer Evergreen Art, the effect might not necessarily be worse than an expensive spiritual rain session!

Most importantly, every single grain of rice harvested in the future would bear the surname Jiang—no one else could take half a grain away!