The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Chapter 293: The Cause and Effect

Zhu Fuxian leaned back, offering a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Junior Brother, haven’t you ever stopped to wonder about one particular oddity?”

Jiang Chen looked slightly bewildered. “If Senior Brother speaks in riddles, how am I supposed to know what to wonder about?”

Zhu Fuxian raised a finger, pointing out the open window toward the sprawling Spirit Farms below. “The soil in this region is rich. Technically, we could till and expand these second-grade, black-soil Spirit Farms endlessly across the valley. Yet, the Immortal Sect strictly caps the acreage we are allowed to cultivate. Why?”

Jiang Chen frowned, his pragmatic mind turning the problem over. “When I first arrived, I assumed it was simple resource management to prevent over-farming. But after studying the Forbidden Records of Spirit Plants, I realized it had to be tied to natural disasters.”

Zhu Fuxian nodded slightly, a look of grim approval on his face. “Exactly. That is the root of the restriction.”

The greater the number of active Spirit Farms constantly drawing upon and manipulating the ambient earth and wood Qi, the more violently the local environment reacted.

If a valley was over-farmed, the frequency of elemental disasters skyrocketed. A devastating Qi storm that naturally occurred once a century could easily accelerate, striking twice every fifty years. If left unchecked, the atmospheric pressure would continuously compound until the region became entirely uninhabitable.

That was why the Sect rigorously enforced agricultural limits, tailoring the exact number of permitted acres to the specific ley lines of each region.

Jiang Chen crossed his arms, still puzzled. “I understand the theory. But what does that have to do with my cursed plot?”

Zhu Fuxian’s expression turned utterly solemn. “Decades ago, your specific sector was the epicenter of a catastrophic Raging Spirit Storm. The ambient Spirit Qi didn’t just become dense; it became violently chaotic, warping and mutating everything it touched. And that rocky hill you live next to? That was the absolute ground zero.”

The older man took a slow sip of tea, his eyes distant. “I still remember it. The Sect had to send in heavy cultivators to suppress the epicenter. A lot of good people died locking that chaotic Qi down.”

Jiang Chen’s eyes widened as the pieces finally clicked into place. “Senior Brother… are you saying that because I recently expanded my acreage and brought those dormant fields back to life, the atmospheric pressure in that sector shifted? I inadvertently broke the seal?”

Zhu Fuxian gave a grim nod. “Think about it logically. For years, that plot sat largely fallow, and nothing happened. The moment you pushed the acreage to its absolute limit, the seal cracked, and the repressed anomalies resurfaced.”

“It seems you’re right,” Jiang Chen admitted, a cold sweat pricking his spine.

“Therefore,” Zhu Fuxian said earnestly, “my advice is simple. If you stubbornly refuse to relocate, do not clear any more land. Cap your Spirit Farm at exactly five acres. Do not push the ley lines any further.”

“Understood,” Jiang Chen agreed instantly. “Senior Brother makes perfect sense.”

Zhu Fuxian stroked his chin, returning to the original problem. “As for your visceral nightmares and the blackened corpse… you aren’t developing an Inner Demon. It’s highly likely that the residual, chaotic Spirit Qi leaking from the cracked seal is simply inducing severe, localized hallucinations, affecting your Divine Sense while you sleep.”

Jiang Chen remained silent for a moment. Finally, he reached into his robes and produced the sealed Storage Bag. “Following the guidance of those ‘hallucinations,’ I actually dug this out of the black soil directly beneath the rocky hill.”

He handed the bag over. Zhu Fuxian opened it, peering inside. His eyes widened in profound shock. “This… this is a fragment of a Life from Death Tree!”

Jiang Chen was equally stunned. “It really is?”

Zhu Fuxian gently pinched the charred lump, holding it up to the light. “The Life from Death Tree appears utterly dead and carbonized on the surface, but its core contains an overwhelmingly dense concentration of pure life essence.”

He looked at Jiang Chen with a mix of awe and pity. “Elite Spirit Farmers and Cultivators blessed with Wood Spirit Roots often carry a fragment like this into highly dangerous zones. If they are killed, the dense vitality within the wood grants them a slim chance to enact a localized rebirth. It essentially acts as a second life.”

Zhu Fuxian tossed the charcoal back into the bag. “You aren’t experiencing an Inner Demon, Junior Brother. You’re being haunted by the psychic residue of a dead man. The corpse you saw in your dreams was likely the original owner.”

So that’s the cause and effect, Jiang Chen thought. Yet, his hyper-rational mind still felt a nagging inconsistency. Something isn’t adding up.

“It’s a tragic irony,” Zhu Fuxian sighed, a hint of genuine regret in his voice. “The fact that you found this buried deep beneath the hill proves the owner was one of the Cultivators sent to suppress the Raging Spirit Storm. He died in the line of duty. Unfortunately, the violently chaotic Qi of the storm likely corrupted the resurrection process, leaving him to rot in the earth.”

Jiang Chen blinked, keeping his greatest secret firmly locked away. He didn’t exactly fail to resurrect, Jiang Chen thought cynically. He just mutated. And now, the vessel he was trying to use—the Ice Embryo—is sitting in my personal dimensional space. The only question left is… what the hell is it going to hatch into?

Zhu Fuxian tied the Storage Bag shut and pushed it back across the table. “Junior Brother, for your own safety and sanity, I strongly suggest you apply for a relocation.”

Jiang Chen pocketed the charcoal and offered a calm, reassuring smile. “I will seriously consider it, Senior Brother. But I can’t move until this current crop of Spirit Plants fully matures and is harvested.”

Accepting this, Zhu Fuxian picked up his teacup, taking a leisurely sip. “You know, given your flawless track record, if you keep performing this well as a Spirit Cultivator, you’ll soon have the opportunity to ascend the mountain.”

“The mountain,” in Sect terminology, referred to the towering Immortal Peaks where the true elites, core disciples, and Immortal Elders resided. Entering the inner peaks meant access to overwhelmingly dense Spirit Qi, exclusive Spirit Springs, and premium cultivation resources.

Generally, only those formally anointed as core disciples were granted access. However, exceptions existed. A core disciple could occasionally sponsor a promising servant or apprentice to ascend. Alternatively, exceptional talents like Jiang Chen—who had achieved the rank of Spirit Cultivator at a remarkably young age—could earn their place purely through massive logistical contributions. If he ascended, his status would be second only to the core disciples themselves.

Jiang Chen gave a dry, cynical chuckle. “The mountain offers power, sure. But the Spirit Farm offers freedom.”

It was the absolute truth. He genuinely enjoyed his current life. The farming kept him grounded, the routine prevented boredom, and occasionally, he could relax, drink good wine, and share a meal with the few friends he tolerated.

If he ascended the Immortal Peaks, he would be living directly under the constant, sweeping Divine Sense of the Immortal Elders. He would be monitored every second of every day. To a man harboring a heaven-defying system and a private dimensional space, that kind of surveillance was a death sentence. He much preferred staying down in the dirt, entirely overlooked and blissfully free.

Changing the subject, Jiang Chen pulled two heavy gourds from his spatial ring and placed them on the bamboo table. “I almost forgot. I didn’t just come to burden you with my problems. I brought fresh Spirit Wine. And one of these is a brand-new vintage.”

Zhu Fuxian’s eyes practically glued themselves to the smaller gourd. He could feel the frost radiating from the clay. “Such a piercing, pure chill… Junior Brother, don’t tell me you successfully brewed Ice Heart Wine?”

Jiang Chen flashed a thumbs-up. “Senior Brother’s palate is truly peerless.”

Shortly after noon, Jiang Chen bid farewell to a thoroughly inebriated Zhu Fuxian and flew back to his plot.

The conversation had been incredibly productive. The heavy, lingering dread that had plagued him for days was gone. He now knew he wasn’t developing a self-destructive Inner Demon; the nightmares were simply psychic bleed-over from the corrupted Life from Death fragment.

The most logical solution was simply to wait. He would let the mutated Ice Embryo sitting in his personal space finish gestating. Once he saw what hatched, he would finally understand the full scope of the dead cultivator’s failed resurrection. As the mortal proverb went: To untie the bell, one must seek the one who tied it.

As for relocating? He would quietly consult Elder Mu to see if any premium plots were available. If not, Jiang Chen would simply follow Zhu Fuxian’s advice and completely halt any further expansion of his external Spirit Farm.

Going forward, he would shift his entire agricultural focus inward. The five acres of external land were ultimately trivial compared to the hundred acres of perfectly safe, hyper-fertile soil hidden within his dimensional space. He knew exactly where his true wealth lay.

Over the following days, Jiang Chen’s nightmares steadily faded, eventually ceasing altogether. His mind returned to its usual, hyper-rational calm.

And then, the day of the summer harvest finally arrived.

He currently managed five acres.

Plot One: Top Grade Spirit Rice.

Plot Two: Mutated Spirit Rice.

Plot Five: Everyday melons, fruits, and vegetables.

Plots Three and Four were dedicated to the Yang-extreme medicinal herbs, which required a few extra days to reach peak maturity. Jiang Chen wasn’t worried about them; his focus was on the primary crop.

Sickle in hand, he stood on the raised dirt ridge overlooking the first acre.

Gazing out over the sea of heavy, perfectly golden stalks of Top Grade Spirit Rice gently swaying in the summer breeze, a profound sense of satisfaction swelled in his chest.

He swept his Divine Sense over the field. The system interface instantly projected the crop data into his mind.

Crop: Top Grade Spirit Rice

Status: Fully Mature

Condition: Flawless (Zero Loss)

Quality: Spirit Qi Sufficient

Grade: Top Grade

The physical limit of a second-grade Spirit Farm had always been fixed: a maximum yield of four thousand pounds per acre. That universal law of Cultivation agriculture remained absolute.

With a light, genuinely happy smile on his face, Jiang Chen kicked off his boots. Barefoot, he stepped down from the ridge and into the soft mud, wading to the far left edge of the field.

Raising his sickle, he began the harvest.