The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Jiang Chen returned to Fire Peak, flanked by his usual group.

They headed straight for Arena No. 3.

Truthfully, Jiang Chen had lost interest in the official disciple competition.

Firstly, spectating had become tedious.

Secondly, he had never been fond of mindless fighting and killing.

However, he had no choice but to attend today. The person stepping onto the arena was an acquaintance.

Jin Fugui!

Upon hearing the news, the group buzzed with anticipation.

Neither Jiang Chen nor Mo Yu had seen Jin Fugui fight seriously since their encounter with the Fish Demon at Black Dragon Pool. Back then, the fatty had displayed a unique ability to ignite metal and launch it as a projectile.

After all this time, his strength had surely grown.

“Don’t embarrass us out there!”

“Relax! My preparations this time are impeccable!”

Jiang Chen and the others offered their support from the sidelines.

Jin Fugui climbed onto the stage, his face plastered with a smug, self-satisfied grin.

His opponent, Wang Qian, was also a Fire Spirit Root cultivator.

On the surface, their elemental affinities didn’t seem to offer a decisive advantage. In reality, however, Jin Fugui’s Metal Spirit Root was naturally restrained by Wang Qian’s Fire. Fire melts metal; the elemental suppression would prevent Jin Fugui from unleashing his full power.

Worse, there was a gap in their Cultivation realms.

Jin Fugui was currently at Qi Condensation Perfection, just a single step away from Foundation Establishment. He had calculated that after the competition, he would redeem a Foundation Pill and break through.

Why not take it now?

Because he was terrified of failing, obviously!

“Arena No. 3. Left side: Jin Fugui. Right side: Wang Qian!”

The matchup details were displayed for all to see.

Qi Condensation Perfection versus Foundation Establishment Early Stage.

It appeared to be a difference of a single small realm, but in the world of cultivation, the gap was as vast as the distance between Heaven and Earth.

First, the density of spiritual power in the Foundation Establishment stage was at least ten times that of Qi Condensation.

Second, and more importantly, was the Awakening of Spiritual Sense.

Fighting with Spiritual Sense versus fighting without it were two completely different concepts.

Spiritual Sense acted as an extension of one’s consciousness, allowing a cultivator to perceive their surroundings with 360-degree clarity. In terms of reaction speed and precision, a Foundation Establishment cultivator reigned supreme over a Qi Condensation disciple.

Strangely, however, Jin Fugui showed not a hint of nervousness.

His chubby face wore a confident, almost arrogant smirk.

Wang Qian looked at him calmly. “Fatty, just admit defeat. I am at the Foundation Establishment stage. What could you possibly use to win?”

Jin Fugui curled his lip. “Cut the crap. I don’t give up that easily.”

Wang Qian’s face darkened. “Fine. Then I will show you just how wide the gap between us really is.”

Whoosh.

Instantly, Wang Qian’s eyebrows turned a bluish-red hue, condensing into flickering, willow-leaf-shaped flames.

A scorching heatwave exploded outward, sweeping across the entirety of Arena No. 3.

Seeing this, Jin Fugui reached his hand into his Storage Bag. He threw his head back and laughed maniacally.

“After this battle, my great name will surely be renowned throughout the Immortal Sect!”

With a grunt of exertion, he hurled a dark object forward.

It flew through the air, spinning wetly.

It looked… fresh.

Sticky.

It was obvious it hadn’t been “out” of its source for very long.

Wang Qian frowned, puzzled by the strange projectile. But as it drew closer, his face turned a sickly shade of green.

He had imagined many unorthodox fighting styles. He had prepared for hidden weapons, talismans, perhaps even forbidden techniques.

But he never expected this.

He immediately activated his movement technique, his body blurring as he dodged.

While he successfully avoided the direct impact of the Spirit Beast feces, the intense heat radiating from his own body worked against him. The high temperature instantly baked the moist projectile.

The feces went from wet to dry in seconds.

And in that instant…

Boom.

A stench of apocalyptic proportions exploded across the arena.

The hotter the air, the more volatile the smell. The heat accelerated the diffusion of the odor molecules, creating a localized domain of absolute nausea.

At first, Wang Qian tried to hold his breath.

But the stench was pervasive. It seeped into his pores; it assaulted his eyes. Before long, his defenses crumbled.

He scrambled to the only corner of the stage not yet contaminated by the fumes, fell to his hands and knees, and retched violently.

“Blergh—!”

He vomited until he was empty, spewing out even the undigested roast meat from his last meal.

Forget fighting. The question now was whether he could even stand up.

Jin Fugui stood amidst the chaos, seemingly immune, and called out with feigned concern, “Hey, are you okay?”

The referee, a Metal Spirit Root disciple, pinched his nose so hard his knuckles turned white. He announced the result immediately.

“Arena No. 3! Jin Fugui wins! +1 Point. Current Score: 2.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the referee abandoned his post, sprinting off the stage to gasp for fresh air.

As for Wang Qian, he didn’t even walk. He crawled down the stairs, inch by inch, tears streaming down his face.

Soon, only Jin Fugui remained on the stage, standing proudly in the eye of the storm.

“Jin Fugui, is it? I will remember that name!”

“My eyes! My nose!”

The thousands of spectators surrounding the arena turned pale.

Many looked at the defeated Wang Qian with profound sympathy. To lose was one thing; to lose like that was a trauma that would haunt his heart demons for a lifetime.

Meanwhile, Jiang Chen, Mo Yu, and Chen Bo—who had been cheering enthusiastically just moments ago—were now frantically covering their faces with their sleeves.

They wished the ground would open up and swallow them whole. They were too embarrassed to show their faces.

A spectator next to them asked, “Hey, you guys were cheering for him, right? Are you his friends?”

Jiang Chen shook his head so fast it blurred. “No, no! I don’t know that shitty fatty!”

Jin Fugui, oblivious to the frantic insults and discussions below, didn’t care about public opinion.

His beady little eyes stared fixedly at the high platform where the five Golden Core Perfected Masters sat.

He observed their reactions.

Three of them were practicing the art of “eyes observing the nose, nose observing the mouth, mouth observing the heart”—essentially pretending they saw nothing to avoid dirtying their minds.

Only two seemed to be paying attention.

One was the ten-foot-tall stone statue, the projection of Master Xuan Yuan.

The other was the drunkard, Jiang Bo. His wine cup had slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor, his mouth hanging agape in shock.

This fighting style had certainly caught their attention.

But for the majority, a single glance felt like sullying their eyes.

After a long silence, the drunkard Jiang Bo finally snapped back to reality. He let out a dry, incredulous laugh.

“Interesting… Truly interesting! In my two hundred years of cultivation, this is the first time I’ve witnessed such a… unique fighting style!”

The red-clothed fairy, Su Jinli, chimed in with a teasing tone. “One stinks of shit, the other stinks of alcohol. I’d say you two share the same stench. Why don’t you take him as your disciple?”

The cyan phantom, Qing Xiao, quickly agreed. “Right, right, right… Please, take him. Just don’t let him out to harm others!”

Hearing this, Jiang Bo stroked his beard and roared with laughter. “Hahaha!”

However, aside from the laughter, he made no move to offer a token of acceptance.

It seemed that while Jin Fugui’s behavior had successfully attracted the attention of the Immortal Elders, it hadn’t exactly moved their hearts.

The referee, shouting from a safe distance, reminded him: “Shit! Take your shit with you!”

Jin Fugui squatted down to retrieve his ammunition. “Lucky it dried out. Otherwise, it’d stick to my hands!”

Wang Qian, who had just managed to stop dry-heaving, heard this and immediately started vomiting again.

Jiang Chen and the other two exchanged a desperate glance. Without a word, they spun around and speed-walked away.

They didn’t dare stay a second longer.

They seriously suspected that if they lingered, the angry mob might beat them up by association.

Seeing his friends retreating, Jin Fugui waved frantically. “Old Jiang! Old Mo! Senior Brother Chen! Wait for me!”

The louder he shouted, the faster the trio walked.

In the blink of an eye, they reached the edge of Fire Peak’s plaza.

Only then did they dare to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Why didn’t you guys wait for me?” Jin Fugui arrived moments later, panting.

Mo Yu glared at him, exasperated. “Why did you use feces to fight?!”

Jin Fugui puffed out his chest, looking righteous. “Didn’t you tell me to attract their attention?”

Mo Yu gaped, stuttering. “I… I… but I didn’t tell you to use shit!”

Jin Fugui shrugged, taking it as a matter of fact. “Just tell me, did it attract their attention or not?”

Jiang Chen couldn’t help but interject.

No matter how one looked at it, Jin Fugui hadn’t gone up there to fight.

He had gone up there to cause chaos.

They had assumed that after all this time, Jin Fugui had been brewing something big. Who would have thought the guy literally just dropped a big load on the competition!