Twelve thousand six hundred Mid-grade Spirit Stones.

Or, if converted, over 1.2 million Low-grade Spirit Stones.

That was the potential revenue if every single one of these mutated gourds was refined into a storage artifact and sold at market price.

This was why cultivators went mad for mutated spirit plants. It wasn’t just about utility—it was about wealth. Finding a single high-tier mutation was like hitting the lottery. Overnight riches were not a dream; they were a horticultural reality.

“But…” Jiang Chen curbed his excitement. “I have to play the long game. Slow and steady.”

Dumping twenty-plus spatial artifacts on the market would crash prices and attract dangerous attention. He had two viable options: sell the raw gourds directly for a quick, safer profit, or find a trustworthy blacksmith to refine them and split the gains.

Either way, he couldn’t rush.

As the sun climbed higher, Jiang Chen summoned his Companion Green Lotus. He needed to accelerate the ripening process immediately.

He had to harvest these treasures before Wu Guangman and the Earth Spirit Root team arrived. While it was possible the Earth disciples wouldn’t recognize the specific value of a mutated Green Gourd, trusting in the ignorance of others was a fool’s gamble.

Better safe than sorry.

He poured his Wood Spirit Power into the vine. The energy in his Dantian drained rapidly, but the results were instantaneous. By the time the distant thud of footsteps echoed from the mountain path, every gourd had fully matured.

[Mutated Green Gourd]

Remarkably, all the mutations had sprouted from a single vine. According to the Spirit Farm Hundred Tales, a vine like this could yield multiple harvests as long as the main stem wasn’t destroyed and the plant’s Spirit Qi wasn’t exhausted.

Jiang Chen raised his sickle. He didn’t slash at the main vine. Instead, he carefully targeted the tendrils connecting each gourd, leaving about an inch of stem attached.

Snap.

The first gourd dropped into his palm. It was cool to the touch, heavy with concentrated Wood Spirit Qi—far denser than the surrounding ordinary plants.

“Impressive,” he muttered. “Mutations really are generous.”

Of course, in terms of pure value, nothing beat the [Phoenix Feather] he had harvested previously, which directly added a year to one’s lifespan. But these gourds were a close second in terms of commercial potential.

Once the last gourd was harvested, the vine reacted instantly. The leaves shriveled, and the thick tendrils shrank by half, the plant exhausted by the unnatural bounty it had just produced.

It looked pathetic, but it wasn’t dead. With careful nurturing—spring water, Spirit Beast manure, and the rich nutrients of the black soil—it would recover.

With the prize secured, Jiang Chen quickly cast [Spirit Finger] on the remaining crops.

Unfortunately, his luck seemed to have been entirely spent on the gourds. The vegetables remained stubbornly ordinary.

He shrugged. He wasn’t greedy. Watching his crops grow healthy and strong was satisfaction enough.

By the time he finished, it was the Hour of Si—9 a.m.

Wu Guangman and his team crested the hill, jogging all the way from the Earth Vein. Their speed across the rugged terrain was impressive, rivaling land-based Spirit Beasts. If they used the [Earth Escape Technique], they would be even faster, moving through the soil like fish through water.

“We’ll finish the last bit today!” Wu Guangman announced cheerfully.

The Earth disciples were all smiles. Working for a Wood Spirit Root farmer was standard, but working for a Foundation Establishment senior who paid on time? That was a pleasure.

“I’ll trouble you all,” Jiang Chen said with a polite smile.

In truth, there was only a tiny patch of land left to infuse. If they had pushed just a little harder yesterday, they could have finished it easily.

But now, they stretched the work. Instead of attacking the task together, they split into two teams, taking turns infusing the soil while the others rested.

A job that should have taken less than an hour dragged on until noon.

Jiang Chen didn’t complain. These disciples earned hard money, and he wasn’t paying out of his own pocket anyway. As long as the Spirit Farm was up to standard, let them milk the clock.

When the work was finally done, Wu Guangman approached, holding out a talisman with both hands.

“Senior Brother Jiang, this is my Communication Talisman. If you ever need earthwork done, contact me. We’ll be here in a flash.”

“Of course,” Jiang Chen accepted it smoothly.

He had Tie Zhu, but redundancy was the key to survival. What if Tie Zhu was busy or injured? It never hurt to have a backup contractor.

“We’ll be going then.” Wu Guangman waved to his crew.

“Safe travels.”

Jiang Chen watched them leave before turning to survey his expanded domain.

The difference between the two plots was stark.

The first mu was a veteran field. It had been worked by previous farmers and then intensively cultivated by Jiang Chen. The soil was pitch black, rich with the smell of rotting leaf mold, manure, and years of slash-and-burn fertilization.

The new mu, however, was raw. The soil was yellowish-black, a “starter” mix that had never seen a crop, water, or fertilizer. It smelled only of faint, clean earth.

“Two mu,” Jiang Chen mused. “I can finally stop cramming everything together.”

His first field was overcrowded, hosting Spirit Rice, vegetables, and even Spirit Clover growing wildly by the irrigation ditch. It was an unsustainable drain on the soil’s nutrients, maintained only by his obsessive fertilization and the occasional Spirit Rain.

Now, he could spread out.

More importantly, he could finally move his secret stash.

The mutated plants hiding inside the stone mountain were suffering. The lack of natural sunlight and rain, combined with the cramped space, had stunted their yield.

Now, he could transplant them into the open air. With a simple [Concealing Aura Formation] and some creative camouflage, he could grow them right under everyone’s noses.

The yield of his Top-quality Spirit Rice would likely stay around 4,000 jin per mu. But the production of Mutated Spirit Rice was about to skyrocket.

If he was diligent, he could be eating high-grade mutated rice for every meal.

Satisfied with the plan, Jiang Chen sat down and pulled a stack of Communication Talismans from his storage bag.

Chen Bo. Mo Yu. Jin Fugui. Wang Ze. Tie Xin. Tie Zhu. Lin Yu. Long Ao.

He laid them out.

Since he had decided to go public with his Foundation Establishment, there was no point in hiding it from his circle. It was time to share the “joy”—and solidify his new status.