The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Chapter 113: Anxious Shen Peng and the Spirit Wine Pitch

“The Shen Clan, you say?”

“They’ve been doing very well for themselves lately.”

“That’s right. I heard their patriarch, Shen Rong, just broke through to the late Foundation Establishment realm!”

As he walked toward the Shen Clan estate, Jiang Chen casually gathered intel from the city’s ambient chatter.

Green City was dominated by five ascendant, albeit small, cultivation families: the Chen Clan, the Sen Clan, the Tie Clan, the Shen Clan, and the Lei Clan.

The Shen Clan owed its rise to its patriarch, Shen Rong, who in his youth had served under Green City’s administrator—the Golden Core cultivator known to all as Perfected Master Wang. That connection had opened doors. Later, as several more clan members Awakened Spirit Roots, their fortunes had steadily grown.

Their progress in the last six months, however, had been nothing short of meteoric. First, Shen Rong, already past fifty, had achieved his breakthrough. Then, his son Shen Peng, a mere twenty-five years old, had advanced to the late Qi Condensation realm. With other promising youths like Shen Yu and Shen Xiang also making strides, the Shen Clan was thriving.

And today marked another milestone. Shen Peng was set to marry Lei Yunna, the third daughter of the Lei Clan’s current patriarch. She was a formidable figure in her own right, having Awakened a Fire Spirit Root and possessing a considerable talent for alchemy. Their union was a true alliance of powers.

Jiang Chen’s mind churned. If he recalled correctly, there was only one shop in the entire Loose Cultivator market capable of producing an ‘Excellent’ grade Vitality Pill. He was almost certain the first character on its plaque was ‘Lei.’ It seemed the Lei Clan had built their empire on decoctions and pill-refining.

As for the Shen Clan, their reputation was decent enough. They weren’t without their share of incidents that had angered the local loose cultivators, but they were a cut above the other families.

The address Shen Peng had given him was, indeed, the Shen Clan estate, and the wedding was clearly happening today.

“Well then,” Jiang Chen decided, his hesitation vanishing. “Let’s go have a look.”

***

“Why isn’t there any news yet?” Dressed in his groom’s finery, Shen Peng paced the room like a caged animal.

One of his groomsmen chuckled. “The bride isn’t even here yet. Relax.”

Shen Peng shot him a look and shook his head. “I’m not waiting for Yunna.”

“Huh?”

The groomsmen stared, mouths agape. A groom, on his wedding day, waiting for someone other than his bride? If word of that got out, it would be a catastrophe. The Lei Clan would likely declare war on the spot.

Realizing his blunder, Shen Peng quickly clarified, “I’m waiting for a very important friend. He’s already in Green City, but he hasn’t shown up.”

“Maybe something held him up?” another groomsmen suggested.

A shadow of worry crossed Shen Peng’s face. He pulled out a Communication Talisman, his thumb hovering over it, but after several tense moments, he put it away without infusing it with spiritual energy. He didn’t dare rush the man, let alone offend a disciple of an Immortal Sect.

Without the thousand pounds of Top-quality Spirit Rice he’d purchased over the last six months—gorging himself on it three times a day—his breakthrough would have taken another year, at least. More importantly, if his future children Awakened Spirit Roots, Jiang Chen could be their ticket into a real Immortal Sect. Their futures would be infinitely brighter than anything this backwater market could offer.

“He’s here! He’s here!” a maidservant cried, rushing into the room.

Shen Peng’s face lit up. “Is Fellow Daoist Cai here?”

The maid looked baffled for a second before replying, “No, the Master has returned.”

“Oh.” Shen Peng’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.

The maid continued, “The Master asked me to tell you to stop worrying. Get your wedding clothes in order, prepare the betrothal gifts, and lead the procession to the Lei Clan to welcome the bride!”

Shen Peng nodded numbly. The clothes were already on. The gifts were already prepared. All that was left was to lead the procession.

The wedding’s customs were surprisingly similar to those of the mortal world, with one key difference: nearly every guest was a cultivator. The procession, therefore, was a spectacle of spiritual power. Spirit beasts cleared a path on the ground while elegant Paper Cranes soared in formation overhead. The entire entourage numbered nearly three hundred, a grand, imposing column that occupied an entire street.

The larger the family, the greater the emphasis on pomp and circumstance. Loose cultivators were far less formal. For them, a shared glance could lead to a shared bed the same night; they valued connection and companionship above all. The great clans, however, valued profit. Even if a bride and groom despised each other, they would be bound together for the family’s benefit, even if only in a marriage of convenience.

The round trip to fetch the bride took a full two hours. By the time Shen Peng and Lei Yunna began the ceremony to bow to heaven and earth, there was still no sign of Jiang Chen.

Shen Peng was completely distracted. He had personally invited the man, who had confirmed his arrival in the city, yet he was a no-show. A cold knot of anxiety tightened in his stomach. Had something happened? If an Immortal Sect disciple met with disaster on his watch, the entire Shen Clan would pay the price.

“First bow to heaven and earth!” the master of ceremonies boomed.

Shen Peng turned mechanically, his gaze drifting toward the crowd outside. Just then, he saw it: a familiar face. The same clothes, the same mustache, exactly as he remembered from their first meeting. It was the very man who had been tormenting his thoughts.

He was already here. It had all been a false alarm.

Standing amongst the guests, Jiang Chen caught his eye and offered a slight smile and a nod.

“First bow to heaven and earth!” the master of ceremonies repeated, his voice sharp with impatience as he noticed the groom’s daze. The bride herself reached out and gave his sleeve a sharp tug.

“Ah, right, right!” A wave of relief washed over Shen Peng. A wide, genuine grin finally broke across his face as he began to bow.

The rest of the ceremony took another hour. The bride, Lei Yunna, was escorted to the bridal chamber to await the night’s festivities, while the groom began the arduous task of toasting every table of guests.

Led by the master of ceremonies, he soon arrived at Jiang Chen’s table.

Holding his cup, Shen Peng couldn’t help but let a hint of complaint slip into his voice. “Fellow Daoist Cai, you arrived! Why didn’t you send word?”

Jiang Chen raised an eyebrow. “I spoke with your father. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Uh…” Shen Peng searched his memory. “He did say something about not worrying.”

He had assumed his father was talking about the wedding arrangements. He never imagined it was a coded message that their esteemed guest had arrived safely. What a mess he’d made of things. He’d spent the entire day on edge, his mind racing with catastrophic scenarios, terrified his wedding day would become his family’s memorial day.

“Alright, go on. You have guests to attend to,” Jiang Chen said, waving a hand dismissively after downing the wine.

“Of course,” Shen Peng nodded. “Please, if you need anything at all, just inform a servant.” With that, he and the master of ceremonies moved on to the next table.

Not long after, Shen Rong found Jiang Chen. The two left the banquet hall and made their way to a secluded garden behind the estate. It was perfectly quiet, a place where they would not be disturbed.

Shen Rong, knowing his guest’s preference for directness, cut straight to the chase. He produced five Mid-grade Spirit Stones and offered them.

However, Jiang Chen didn’t produce a bag of Spirit Rice. Instead, he brought out a jug of Spirit Wine.

Or, to be more precise, *Excellent-grade* Spirit Wine. It was brewed from Excellent-grade Spirit Rice, a tier below the Top-grade product, and was a new line developed specifically for the loose cultivator market.

“Fellow Daoist Cai, what is this?” Shen Rong asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Have a taste,” Jiang Chen offered with a knowing smile, pushing the jug forward.

Shen Rong hesitated for a moment before taking it. He uncorked the stopper.

Instantly, a rich, mellow aroma—a perfect fusion of grain and spirit—wafted out. He hadn’t even taken a sip, but the scent alone was intoxicating. Shen Rong swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.