The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

The wooden window creaked open, letting a cool breeze sweep through the room and dissipate the lingering, humid heat of the night.

Jiang Chen lay back on the bed, his arms behind his head, looking at the woman beside him.

“Senior Sister,” he asked lazily, “the Formal Disciple Grand Competition starts today. Considering how late you kept me up last night… are you not planning to participate?”

Yu Caiqing shook her head while adjusting her robes. “If I participated, it wouldn’t be a competition. It would be bullying.”

Jiang Chen raised an eyebrow. “Are you really that confident?”

The corner of Yu Caiqing’s lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile. “Over these years, I have roamed the outside world searching for rare medicinal herbs. I have walked through fire and blood.”

Although the title of a Cloud Sea Sect formal disciple deterred most trouble, the world was vast and dangerous. Loose cultivators desperate for resources would block roads to rob and kill. Monsters would ambush from the shadows.

Most of the time, she had traveled alone.

Without true, tempered skill, she would have died long ago.

“In the past, I would have joined,” she admitted softly. “I wanted to prove myself and gain the attention of the Elders. But now…”

She paused, her gaze turning inward. “My Ice-Water Spirit Root is on the verge of mutating into a pure Ice Spirit Root. I have no need for their validation.”

Jiang Chen looked at her, suddenly understanding. “It seems your skills aren’t limited to just alchemy.”

Yu Caiqing caught the double meaning in his words. They exchanged a knowing smile, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

Daylight broke over the Cloud Sea Sect.

Since his friends—Jin Fugui, Mo Yu, and Long Ao—were all participating in the Grand Competition, Jiang Chen decided to skip his daily duties at the Spirit Farm.

This event only occurred once every ten years. He wasn’t about to miss the spectacle.

After coordinating a meeting time, Jiang Chen headed down to the first basement level to check on his secret project: the Ice Heart Jade Pot Wine.

He unsealed the cellar. A wave of bone-chilling cold rolled out.

After several days of fermentation, a small amount of liquid had settled at the bottom of the jade pot. It emitted a piercing, frosty aura. Even the Fire Spirit Peppers layered on top were coated in a delicate sheen of white frost.

It was drinkable now, but Jiang Chen resisted the urge to harvest it.

Precision was key. If he took it out before the prescribed time, the medicinal effects would be greatly diminished.

Confirming everything was stable, he resealed the cellar and left. Since Senior Sister Yu had no interest in the noise and violence of the arena, he set off alone.

When he arrived at the meeting point, he didn’t have to wait long. Jin Fugui, Mo Yu, and Long Ao arrived in quick succession.

Jin Fugui blinked, looking surprised. “Senior Brother Long?”

Mo Yu didn’t recognize him at first either. It was only when Jin Fugui said the name that Mo Yu looked closer, his eyes widening.

Long Ao’s appearance had changed drastically.

The left half of his face looked as if it had been melted by dragon fire. The skin was twisted, shiny, and ruinous.

“Senior Brother Long is coming with us to Fire Peak,” Jiang Chen explained simply, offering no further details on the injury.

Jin Fugui and Mo Yu nodded, sensing the gravity of the situation, and asked no questions.

The four of them stepped onto Jiang Chen’s Giant Leaf. With a hum of spiritual energy, the massive artifact lifted off, speeding toward Fire Peak.

It was a bit of a tight squeeze with four grown men, but the Giant Leaf was significantly faster than the standard issue Paper Cranes.

30 minutes into the flight, the sky became crowded.

Thousands of disciples were airborne, creating a traffic jam of magical artifacts.

The majority rode Paper Cranes, which looked like a flock of identical white birds migrating. A few wealthier disciples rode advanced artifacts similar to Jiang Chen’s Giant Leaf.

But the ones that drew every eye were the Flying Shuttles and Spirit Ships.

Streamlined, glowing with defensive formations, and radiating wealth, they cut through the clouds with arrogant ease.

“Man,” Jin Fugui sighed, envy dripping from his voice. “When I get rich, I’m definitely buying a Flying Shuttle.”

Mo Yu side-eyed him, glancing briefly at Long Ao before scoffing. “You’re not rich yet, so why are you talking nonsense?”

Jin Fugui faltered, then let out a dry chuckle. “Hey, being a person is the same as Cultivation. You have to have a goal, right?”

“I thought your goal was to produce more spirit beast manure?” Jiang Chen teased from the helm.

Jin Fugui flushed crimson and waved his hand dismissively. “Goals come in different sizes, okay? That’s a small, achievable goal. The shuttle is the long-term vision!”

The group touched down at Fire Peak, joining the sea of disciples. Almost immediately, they spotted several familiar faces.

Chen Bo.

Wang Bing.

And Han Xin.

These three were also participating in the competition.

When Wang Bing saw Jiang Chen’s group, she didn’t come over. She simply offered a polite nod and a distant smile before leaving with her own circle of friends.

Chen Bo, on the other hand, looked nervous. He had kept his participation a secret until now. Seeing so many people he knew made him anxious, but after a moment’s hesitation, he walked over.

Having acquaintances nearby gave him confidence.

Han Xin was the most enthusiastic. Upon spotting Jiang Chen, her eyes lit up, and she practically sprinted over.

“Little Jiang!” she shouted. “What are you doing here? Are you participating too?”

Jiang Chen winced at the nickname. “Don’t call me that in public. It’s embarrassing.”

Han Xin crossed her arms, her lips curling into a sneer. “Oh? And you have the nerve to call me ‘Old Tie’?”

“That’s different,” Jiang Chen explained quickly. “Adding ‘Old’ is a sign of respect and familiarity among friends.”

“Exactly,” Jin Fugui chimed in, nodding sagely. “We only use that title for our inner circle.”

Of course, “Old Bai” didn’t count. Bai Xiaotian was called that simply because he was genuinely old.

Han Xin pouted, unimpressed. She extended her right hand, palm up.

“Fine, call me whatever you want. Where is my Spirit Wine?”

Jiang Chen retrieved the ten catties of Top-quality Spirit Wine he had prepared. “Here. Don’t say I never give you anything.”

Han Xin grinned, her entire demeanor brightening. She uncorked the container and immediately started chugging, gulping the potent liquor down as if it were water.

Jiang Chen was used to this, but Jin Fugui, Mo Yu, Long Ao, and Chen Bo stared in shock.

Long Ao knew that Pei Mo was a drunkard who loved wine as much as his life, but he hadn’t expected this female cultivator to be his equal in alcoholism.

“Drink less,” Jiang Chen warned. “If you get smashed now, how are you going to fight later?”

Han Xin lowered the wineskin, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her expression was playful.

“You’re clearly an amateur. You’ve definitely never fought a Formation Master before.”

Jiang Chen spread his hands. “I’m just an honest, humble Spirit Farmer. Where would I find the time to fight people?”

Han Xin patted the formation compass hanging at her waist, her voice oozing confidence. “Listen well. As long as my formation takes shape, even a genius like Chen Tian with his three mutually generating Spirit Roots wouldn’t be able to touch me.”

Jiang Chen nodded, feigning vague understanding.

Internally, however, he was intrigued. It seems combat for Earth Spirit Root cultivators isn’t as simple as hurling rocks. I really want to see how a Formation Master fights.

As the crowd swelled, the group drifted toward the arena grounds.

The setup was similar to the outer sect assessments—nine main arenas.

But the scale was completely different. The platforms were massive, constructed from reinforced spirit stone to withstand the destructive power of Foundation Establishment techniques.

Due to the sheer number of participants, the competition was scheduled to last half a month.

Match times were determined by lottery.

Jiang Chen looked up. Above each arena floated a massive, unopened scroll.

The parchment shimmered with spiritual light, densely inscribed with mysterious, glowing runes.

Jiang Chen squinted, studying them. To his surprise, he didn’t recognize the vast majority of the script.

Those aren’t standard formations, he realized. Those are high-level, profound runes.