‘Too eager to improve.’

If outsiders couldn’t stop Jiang Chen’s relentless march toward power, then as his friends, they stood even less of a chance.

Still, both men felt a mixture of surprise and begrudging respect.

Most Spirit Farmers—hell, most cultivators in general—lacked this kind of singular focus. They were either restless with their lot in life or simply lacked the discipline to grind day in and day out without distraction.

Jiang Chen was an anomaly. Since joining the core area, he had lived like a hermit, rarely leaving his land, obsessing over crops and techniques while ignoring the social aspects of cultivation entirely.

Sure, he was only twenty. For cultivators who could live for centuries, youth was abundant. But time was a river, not a pond. If one didn’t constantly swim against the current, the days would drift by in a blur of monotony.

That was why most farmers sought Dao Companions. It wasn’t just about romance; it was about staving off the crushing loneliness of immortality.

Raising dogs, chickens, or fire crows might fill the silence, but it didn’t fill the void. A person could have a zoo in their backyard and still be utterly alone.

Jiang Chen set a steaming bowl of rice on the table. “I genuinely don’t understand the urgency. Why is finding a Dao Companion such a priority for everyone?”

Jin Fugui scratched his head. “Loneliness?”

Mo Yu glanced at them both, then spoke with profound honesty. “I’m bored. Fishing alone sucks. I want a partner who likes fishing.”

Jiang Chen and Jin Fugui simultaneously spat on the floor.

“Hey!” Mo Yu protested, indignant. “Is it a crime to want a fishing buddy who also shares my bed?”

Jin Fugui paused. “Actually… when Old Mo puts it like that, it sounds reasonable.”

Jiang Chen waved a dismissive hand. “Fine, whatever. I don’t care why you want partners. I’m asking why the Sect cares. First the Flower Sea matchmaking, now this Spirit Farmer mixer. The higher-ups seem obsessed with pairing us off.”

Mo Yu leaned in. “I’ve heard rumors. The Sect wants to establish small cultivation families within its ranks. It’s a way to bind low-level cultivators to the sect permanently.”

Jin Fugui nodded slowly. “I heard something similar from an elder at Beast Mountain. It’s about genetics. When two cultivators with compatible Spirit Roots have children, the odds of the child awakening a Spirit Root are significantly higher.”

“For example,” he continued, “if a Wood Spirit Root father and a Water Spirit Root mother have a child, that kid is almost guaranteed to have a Wood Spirit Root. There’s even a small chance for a Water root or a mutation.”

While most cultivators came from the mortal world, finding them was like panning for gold in a vast, muddy river. It was inefficient.

Breeding them in-house was smarter. Children born to loyal sect members were easier to trust and control.

Jiang Chen nodded, enlightened. “So that’s why there are so many clans. The Zhao Clan, the Chen Clan, the Feng Clan…”

It was a grim realization. Children born to low-level cultivators were likely destined to remain low-level, trapped in the same cycle of servitude as their parents unless they possessed heaven-defying luck or talent. They could never escape the Sect’s “Five Finger Mountain.”

Jin Fugui stared at the food, his philosophical mood vanishing. “Thinking too much gives me a headache. We’re bottom-tier trash; let’s have the awareness of trash and just eat.”

Mo Yu nodded vigorously. “Right. We haven’t had lunch yet.”

Jiang Chen sighed. He knew they were here to mooch, but he couldn’t turn them away. “Eat, eat.”

“I’ll get the bowls!” Jin Fugui chirped.

“I’ll get the chopsticks!” Mo Yu echoed.

The two vanished into the kitchen.

Silence followed. Jiang Chen waited a moment, then frowned. He poked his head into the kitchen, only to find it empty. A soft creak came from the basement door.

“There’s no light down there, you thieves!” he shouted.

What was in the basement? Spirit Wine.

These two weren’t content with just eating his food; they were raiding his cellar too.

Luckily, they exercised some restraint, emerging with only half a jin of [Top-quality Spirit Wine] each.

Thirty minutes later, the table was a disaster zone.

The Sweet Potato and Spirit Rice Medley, the Tomato Scrambled Eggs, the Pepper Scrambled Eggs—all gone. The plates looked like they had been licked clean.

Jin Fugui rubbed his distended belly, burping contentedly. “Old Jiang, your cooking always hits the spot.”

Jiang Chen dumped the dishes into a basin of water and wiped his hands. “Meal eaten, wine drunk. Let’s talk business.”

Jin Fugui’s expression turned serious. He produced a small Storage Bag. “This month’s take. Franchise fees, ingredient supply fees, the works.”

“How much?” Mo Yu leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

Jin Fugui upended the bag over the table.

Clatter-clink-clatter!

A cascade of glowing stones spilled out, the sound like music to their ears. The room was bathed in the soft, multi-colored light of spiritual energy.

Jiang Chen swept the pile with his Spiritual Sense. “380 Mid-grade Spirit Stones. 3,663 Low-grade Spirit Stones.”

Mo Yu frowned. “That’s… a lot less than last time.”

Jin Fugui shrugged helplessly. “The market at Fire Peak is saturated. We’re not the only players anymore; copycats are blooming everywhere. Franchise fees are drying up.”

The bulk of their income now came from supplying ingredients to existing stalls. The trend was clear: their profits from Fire Peak would continue to shrink.

Jiang Chen remained calm. He had anticipated this, which was why he had pivoted to the Loose Cultivator market in Green City. The margins were lower there, but the volume was infinite.

“Let’s split it,” Jiang Chen said.

After deducting 20 Mid-grade stones for operating costs, they divided the remaining pot of 360 Mid-grade and 3,663 Low-grade stones.

Chen Bo took 20%: 72 Mid-grade, 732 Low-grade. Mo Yu took 10%: 29 Mid-grade, 293 Low-grade. Jin Fugui took 20%: 58 Mid-grade, 644 Low-grade.

Jiang Chen swept the rest into his own storage. 70%.

201 Mid-grade Spirit Stones. 2,052 Low-grade Spirit Stones.

It was still a fortune.