The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Chapter 250: Late Foundation Establishment Stage

A Top Grade Foundation Spirit Pill.

A jar of Top Grade Golden Wine.

The Green Lotus Art, pushed to absolute Perfection.

Combined with the ambient wood Spirit Qi radiating from his five acres of thriving Spirit Farm, the conditions were flawless.

Jiang Chen sat cross-legged, transforming into a human vortex. He violently devoured every stray wisp of wood Spirit Qi in the surrounding atmosphere.

Within his dantian, the stagnant “puddle” of wood spiritual power began to churn, expanding in both density and volume. Thanks to months of meticulous accumulation, it was already substantial—easily dwarfing the adjacent, much smaller puddle of fire spiritual power. But now, fueled by this heaven-defying cocktail of resources, a true qualitative shift was occurring.

At first, the expansion slowed, as if the energy had hit a rigid physical threshold. Then, it stalled completely.

Yet, bizarrely, his body continued to process and convert external wood Spirit Qi at an accelerating, terrifying rate. It surpassed anything he had ever experienced. The stagnant “puddle” of liquid wood energy suddenly shuddered. Like a balloon attached to a high-pressure pump, it violently inflated, transforming from a flat pool into a dense, spherical “clump.”

It was several times larger and infinitely more concentrated than before.

Squeak.

A strange, high-pitched sound echoed from his dantian. Jiang Chen’s entire body violently convulsed. A secondary, monstrous suction force erupted from his core, expanding his intake range and violently dragging in the ambient Spirit Qi. He stripped the entire five-acre farm bare of its wood energy in seconds, sucking it entirely dry.

Only when there was absolutely nothing left to consume did the vortex slowly spin down.

Jiang Chen snapped his eyes open, a brilliant emerald light flashing in his pupils. “Late Foundation Establishment,” he murmured, exhaling a long breath of stale air.

A normal cultivator would have needed four, five, perhaps even ten years to cross this threshold. Backed by his system and an absurd surplus of resources, Jiang Chen had crushed it in just two.

To put it in perspective, Chen Tian—the lauded genius born with three mutually promoting Spirit Roots—was currently sitting at Foundation Establishment Perfection. Jiang Chen, a mere farmer, was now only a single minor realm behind the sect’s golden boy.

Granted, Chen Tian would still obliterate him in a straight fight. The genius had spent years slaughtering monsters on the bloody front lines of the Central Region; Jiang Chen had spent his years pulling weeds. But raw power was raw power.

Eager to test his new limits, Jiang Chen immediately unfurled his spiritual sense.

The rule of thumb was simple: Early Foundation Establishment covered roughly thirty feet. Mid-stage pushed it to sixty. Therefore, Late stage should naturally reach… ninety feet.

His perception swept outward in a three-hundred-foot radius, capturing the world with terrifying, microscopic clarity. It was infinitely sharper than his mid-stage senses.

He could “see” Da Huang furiously gnawing at a flea on his flank.

He tracked the pearl chickens darting after tiny insects in the dirt.

He felt the imposing, silent presence of the Fortress standing beneath the massive poplar tree.

He watched the two-meter-tall Four Seasons Fruit Tree rustle in the gentle wind.

He mapped the roots of the weeds stubbornly clinging to the stone cracks, the vibrant pulse of the crops in the Spirit Farm, and the blind wriggling of earthworms deep beneath the soil.

Every flower, every blade of grass, every insect was mapped in his mind. The only things that escaped his absolute domain were the fire crows circling high above the hundred-meter mark.

With a thought, he summoned his Companion Green Lotus. It materialized in his palm, and he immediately noticed the difference. It had doubled in size. Once the size of a single hand, it was now as large as two adult palms pressed together, radiating a mesmerizing, divine jade-green light.

He casually tossed the glowing flower toward his first acre of second-grade Spirit Farm. It landed silently, and the Green Lotus Domain instantly bloomed outward, blanketing the crops.

Jiang Chen monitored his dantian, calculating the drain. Previously, sustaining the domain for one or two hours would bleed his wood spiritual power dry. Now, with his massively expanded reserves, he could comfortably maintain the field for at least five hours. And the longer the domain held, the faster the plants grew.

Next, he rolled up his right sleeve, exposing the three emerald Wood Spirit Returning to Nest Rings.

He hadn’t properly field-tested their offensive capabilities yet. With a mere thought, the three rings flared to life. Consuming a negligible fraction of his wood spiritual power, ten razor-sharp wooden spikes instantly materialized in the air around him. They were roughly the length of a man’s arm, their brown bark tapering to a sinister, dark green point—the paralytic toxin.

Jiang Chen aimed at a barren patch of dirt and pointed a single finger.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

The ten spikes launched like ballista bolts, tearing across the courtyard and burying themselves deep into the earth, punching ten identical, two-meter-deep holes into the hard-packed dirt.

He didn’t stop. He channeled his energy, summoning another volley. Then another.

Ten shots. A hundred shots.

Within moments, the ground fifty yards away was annihilated, violently perforated into a terrifying, cratered mess.

Jiang Chen checked his dantian again, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Summoning the spikes, sustaining the Spirit Weapon, and keeping the Green Lotus Domain active… and I’ve barely made a dent in my reserves.”

He was multi-tasking three highly demanding techniques simultaneously, and his newly expanded energy pool wasn’t even straining. The days of rationing his spiritual power in combat were over.

Logically, hitting the Late stage meant he could finally “reveal” to the sect that he had broken through to Mid Foundation Establishment. That revelation would entitle him to claim yet another acre of second-grade Spirit Farm from the core area.

But Jiang Chen quickly squashed the impulse.

While advancing from Early to Mid stage wasn’t suspiciously fast, his recent land acquisitions were. In just one year, he had added three acres of prime real estate to his portfolio—one from Wang Ze, one from Lin An, and one from the idiot prince, Mo Yin.

The nail that sticks out gets hammered. Flaunting another breakthrough so soon would inevitably draw greedy, unwanted attention from the upper management. It violated his core philosophy: stay hidden, stay steady, get rich.

“I’ll wait,” he decided, crossing his arms. “I’ll announce the ‘breakthrough’ at the end of the year, or maybe early next spring. No need to rush.” He was an immortal; he had nothing but time.

“However,” Jiang Chen murmured, his stomach giving a timely rumble, “hitting Late Foundation Establishment is a major milestone. And that demands a feast.”

He turned on his heel and marched into the stone kitchen. Soon, the rhythmic thwack-thwack-thwack of a chopping knife and the hiss of sizzling oil echoed across the yard.

A rich, mouthwatering aroma of spices and roasting meat drifted out the window. It didn’t take long for the audience to gather. Da Huang, the pearl chickens, and even a few bold fire crows clustered around the kitchen door, peering inside with wide, greedy eyes.

Da Huang, entirely lacking in shame, sat and let a thick rope of drool pool onto the dirt.