The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

To ensure absolute privacy, Jiang Chen produced a Soundproofing Talisman and flicked his wrist. The slip of yellow paper shot backward, adhering perfectly to the center of the wooden door.

A faint shimmer rippled across the room.

It was a one-way barrier. He could still hear the bustling noises from outside—the wind, the footsteps, the distant chatter—but not a single sound from within would escape.

Mo Yin had given up struggling. He was curled into a ball in the corner, trembling violently like a frightened animal.

Seeing this, Jiang Chen sighed and circulated his Green Lotus Art.

He drew upon the gentle, nurturing Wood Attribute spiritual power stored in his Qi Sea, releasing it in a soft wave that washed over the room. The emerald energy enveloped the trembling youth, seeping into his pores to soothe his frayed nerves.

Gradually, the terror in Mo Yin’s eyes faded. He seemed to sense that the man standing before him bore no ill intent. His trembling slowed, then stopped.

However, he remained huddled in the corner, eyeing Jiang Chen with the wariness of a beaten dog.

Jiang Chen softened his voice. “Relax. This isn’t the treacherous Central Region. This is the Cloud Sea Sect. It is safe here.”

Mo Yin blinked. Then, two words burst from his mouth.

“Imperial Father?”

Jiang Chen stumbled back a step, nearly choking on his own spit.

“I’m 21 this year!” Jiang Chen snapped, his face turning a shade of green. “Unless I started when I was three, I am not your father!”

Mo Yin tilted his head, looking confused, but the fear was gone.

“Can’t you be a little more normal?” Jiang Chen muttered, rubbing his temples.

Mo Yin looked aggrieved. He jutted out his lower lip in a pout. “Hungry. Hungry.”

“Hungry?”

Jiang Chen tapped the Jade Green Gourd at his waist, retrieving a handful of high-quality spirit snacks.

Truth be told, these were reserved for Lin Yu, just in case he ran into her. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

He held them out.

Mo Yin’s nose twitched. Smelling the rich fragrance of spirit herbs and honey, his eyes lit up. He snatched the snacks and began to shove them into his mouth, munching noisily like a starving hamster.

Watching the prince’s foolish, simple demeanor, Jiang Chen murmured to himself, “Senior Brother Chen… you really handed me a hot potato this time.”

With Mo Yin in this state, communication was impossible.

Teaching him how to plant spirit rice? That was a fantasy.

After devouring the snacks, Mo Yin relaxed completely. He didn’t sleep, though. He just lay back on the bed, his wide eyes fixed unblinkingly on Jiang Chen.

Jiang Chen stared back.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

You look at me. I look at you.

A classic staring contest.

Finally, Mo Yin couldn’t hold out. He blinked rapidly and rubbed his sore eyes.

Jiang Chen smirked triumphantly. “Trying to outlast me? You’re still too green.”

Immediately, Mo Yin’s face crumpled. His lip quivered, and tears began to well up.

“Hey, hey!” Jiang Chen felt a headache coming on. “Don’t cry. Stop. Look, I have more food.”

He quickly retrieved another batch of snacks and shoved them into the prince’s hands.

Mo Yin sniffled, took the food, and instantly switched from crying to giggling foolishly as he ate.

Realizing that food was the only effective currency, Jiang Chen decided to change tactics.

“I have lots of delicious food,” he said, his voice taking on a coaxing tone used for small children. “If you come with me outside to learn how to plant seedlings, I’ll give you more.”

“Eat! Food!” Mo Yin mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs, his hands grabbing at the air.

“Yes, food.”

Holding a bag of snacks in his right hand like a lure, Jiang Chen turned and walked toward the door.

He peeled off the Soundproofing Talisman and pushed the door open.

Like a mouse trailing a trail of cheese, Mo Yin stumbled out of the room, following Jiang Chen step for step.

Jiang Chen led him through the compound, heading toward the Grade One Spirit Farms on the outskirts.

As they walked, whispers erupted from the nearby disciples.

“Isn’t that the fool?”

“Look at Senior Brother Jiang… he’s actually taking the time to guide him.”

“He acts with such patience! Heavens, meeting a formal disciple like this is a blessing. If we don’t pass the assessment, we’d be letting down Senior Brother Jiang’s kindness!”

To the outsiders, the scene was touching. A high-ranking Foundation Establishment expert was personally caring for a mentally deficient disciple, showing no signs of disdain or bullying.

Many of the onlookers felt a surge of admiration.

In these times, the turnover rate for Outer Peak disciples was brutal. They were expendable, rarely respected by the formal disciples who viewed them as servants or trash. Most seniors were cold, indifferent, or arrogant.

But Jiang Chen? He had no airs at all. His presence was as refreshing and comfortable as a spring breeze.

After asking for directions, they finally arrived at Mo Yin’s assigned plot.

It wasn’t far—just a few minutes from the dormitories.

But as they arrived, Jiang Chen realized he had made a miscalculation.

A massive crowd of Outer Peak disciples had gathered. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were locked onto him, shining with eagerness and a thirst for knowledge. They were waiting for a masterclass.

Jiang Chen froze. He looked at the drooling prince, then at the expectant crowd.

He forced a stiff smile and held up a bundle of Spring Seedlings.

“Alright everyone,” he announced, his voice projecting clearly. “Watch closely. I will demonstrate the proper technique for planting Spring Seedlings!”

Immediately, the crowd moved in unison, mimicking his stance. Even those who had planted rice for years watched with rapt attention, afraid to miss a single detail of the “master’s” technique.

Lin Ya stood on a ridge overlooking the field, her face full of surprise.

“Senior Brother Jiang really is selfless,” she whispered to herself. “He’s even doing the manual labor meant for the examinee.”

Down in the mud, Jiang Chen was expertly inserting seedlings into the soft earth of Mo Yin’s field.

He glanced sideways. Mo Yin was squatting on the dry ridge, happily munching on snacks, watching the clouds.

Jiang Chen mentally gave a thumbs up, suppressing the urge to strangle the boy.

You’re really something. I, a Foundation Establishment expert, am personally farming for you while you have a picnic.

“Hehehe,” Mo Yin giggled, oblivious.

Lin Ya watched the scene with growing admiration. “Senior Brother Jiang is so kind. That fool hasn’t done a thing but squat there eating, yet Senior Brother doesn’t scold him.”

Originally, Jiang Chen just wanted to show Mo Yin the basics and let him struggle.

But with hundreds of people supervising him with worshipful eyes, he couldn’t slack off. He couldn’t just plant a few and leave. He had to finish the job, and he had to do it perfectly.

“So that’s how you channel the Qi into the roots! Thank you, Senior Brother Jiang!”

“What on earth was I doing the last two years? This is enlightenment!”

By evening, Jiang Chen finally straightened his back. The smile on his face was frozen stiff.

Logically, being an examiner should be easy. Just look at Wang Hu—he just strolled around with his hands behind his back, barking orders.

Why am I working harder than the examinees?

And the worst part was, he couldn’t even get angry. He had to maintain his benevolent image.

With the sun setting, he pulled out another bag of snacks to lure the useless prince back to the room.

Only after the door clicked shut did Jiang Chen finally exhale.

He collapsed onto the bed, feeling like a heavy stone had been lifted from his chest.

At that moment, Mo Yin broke a snack in half and thrust it toward Jiang Chen’s face.

“Eat. You eat.”

Jiang Chen looked at the soggy, saliva-covered treat and recoiled.

“I’m at the Foundation Establishment stage,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t need to eat mortal food.”

Mo Yin blinked, not understanding, and tried to shove the half-eaten snack into Jiang Chen’s robes.

Realizing the boy wouldn’t give up, Jiang Chen sighed and accepted it. He didn’t eat it, of course—he just held it to placate him.

Mo Yin, showing none of the dignity of an Imperial Prince, plopped down on the dirty floor. He sat there, rocking back and forth, happily gnawing on his remaining snacks.

Jiang Chen watched him, his brow furrowing.

“Even if I use my abilities to drag you into the formal sect… what then?” he muttered.

Senior Brother Chen would surely send people to look after the boy. But the Cloud Sea Sect wasn’t a nursery.

In the cultivation world, anyone who couldn’t pull their own weight was a burden.

The deadweight among deadweight.

Eventually, they would be abandoned. It was the cruel law of nature.

Mo Yin seemed deaf to the world, continuing to chew rhythmically.

Jiang Chen sighed and stood up. He straightened the messy bedding, spread fresh straw over the areas Mo Yin had kicked apart, and poured a cup of clean spring water.

“I need to go back and rest,” Jiang Chen said, placing the cup on the table. “Stay here tonight. Don’t run around.”

After giving his instructions, he opened the door and left, closing it firmly behind him.

Inside the room, silence returned.

Mo Yin sat on the floor, the “foolish” smile freezing on his face before vanishing completely.

The glazed, vacant look in his eyes sharpened into a terrifying clarity.

He stood up nimbly, dusting off his robes with a graceful, practiced motion.

A cold sneer curled his lips.

“Unwarranted kindness is never without motive.”