The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Chapter 133: A Favor at Danxin Pavilion, An Unexpected Face

“Speaking of which, the reason I brought Junior Brother Jiang here this time…” Wang Ze began, but he never got to finish.

Chu Xiu cut him off with a dismissive wave. “I get it. Your Junior Brother Jiang needs a Foundation Pill to break through. He’ll have to wait until after the formal disciple competition, and I’ll need a hundred Mid-grade Spirit Stones upfront.”

First, he was trying to fleece an acquaintance, and now he wanted a prepayment.

In an instant, Jiang Chen’s opinion of the alchemist plummeted. Chu Xiu sized them up after he spoke, a smug certainty in his eyes that they would have no choice but to comply.

Wang Ze, however, simply shook his head. “Fellow Daoist Chu, you’ve misunderstood. My junior brother has already broken through to the Foundation Establishment realm. He has no need for a Foundation Pill.”

The words hung in the air. Chu Xiu froze, his smug expression cracking. After a long moment, he finally managed to stammer, “He’s… already at Foundation Establishment?”

Jiang Chen offered a faint smile and let a sliver of his aura flare to life. A refreshing, vibrant energy, unique to a Wood Spirit Root, washed through the cramped room.

Once he confirmed Jiang Chen’s cultivation level, Chu Xiu’s face soured. “You kept calling him ‘Junior Brother.’ I assumed he was still in Qi Condensation.”

“I brought him here to meet you, of course,” Wang Ze explained smoothly, “but also to discuss a potential partnership.”

“A partnership?” Chu Xiu’s eyebrow shot up.

Wang Ze gave a slight nod. “As you know, once a Spirit Farmer reaches Foundation Establishment, they are granted an additional mu of second-grade Spirit Farm.”

Understanding finally dawned on Chu Xiu, and he frowned. “You already provide me with more than enough herbs. I don’t need a second partner.”

“I have no intention of stealing Senior Brother’s business,” Jiang Chen said tactfully.

Not wanting to lose face, especially after coming all this way, Wang Ze pressed on. “Fellow Daoist Chu, you know so many alchemists. Could you perhaps make a few introductions for my junior brother?”

Chu Xiu rolled his eyes. “You have ten mu of spirit farms, bursting with herbs. Don’t tell me I’m the only alchemist you work with.”

Wang Ze spread his hands in a gesture of sincere appeal. “Most of my partners are just Fire Spirit Root apprentices. I work with a few Junior Alchemists, but none of them can compare to your skill.”

Watching the exchange, Jiang Chen felt a surge of gratitude. Most Spirit Farmers, upon reaching Foundation Establishment, didn’t know what to plant on their new plot of land. To play it safe, they almost always chose Spirit Rice—a guaranteed, if modest, profit. But to truly strike it rich, one had to cultivate rare and valuable spirit plants. Forging a partnership with an alchemist from the Alchemy Hall was the perfect solution. It provided access to the world of pills and rare herbs, all while securing a stable income. It was a strategy that killed multiple birds with one stone.

Chu Xiu hadn’t expected his business partner to call in a favor for a junior. This wasn’t a small request; it would put him in Wang Ze’s debt. But considering Wang Ze was a steady supplier and a member of the renowned Wang Clan, Chu Xiu thought it over and decided against refusing.

Wang Ze’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, Fellow Daoist Chu!”

Jiang Chen quickly added his own thanks. “Thank you, Master Chu!”

“I can make the introductions,” Chu Xiu warned, “but whether they agree to work with you is their decision.”

Both Jiang Chen and Wang Ze nodded in understanding. It was worth a shot. If it worked, it would solve a major problem.

As it happened, Chu Xiu had just finished a long alchemy session and needed a few days of rest. He disappeared into an adjacent room to bathe, emerging a short while later in a fresh set of light red robes. He then led Jiang Chen and Wang Ze out into the warren of the Alchemy Hall.

They walked down a relatively wide street, heading deeper into the district. The buildings on either side were a fusion of living quarters and alchemy workshops, thick smoke curling from their chimneys. Most of the residents here were merely Fire Spirit Root apprentices; true alchemists were few and far between. The profession demanded not only talent but also immense patience and time. Here, age was a mark of experience, and the older an alchemist, the more sought-after they were.

Before long, a three-story building rose up before them. A wooden sign hung over the entrance, carved with the name: Danxin Pavilion.

A steady stream of Fire Spirit Root apprentices and Junior Alchemists flowed in and out of its doors. The lively murmur of conversation spilled out onto the street.

Chu Xiu gestured toward the building. “This is where we gather to exchange insights and talk shop.”

Wang Ze already knew of the place, so he wasn’t surprised. Jiang Chen, however, took it all in with keen interest. Despite the high concentration of fire-aspected cultivators, the building didn’t radiate scorching heat. Instead, a pleasant coolness emanated from it, a welcome relief from the ambient warmth of the Alchemy Hall.

The trio quickly stepped inside.

The first floor of the Danxin Pavilion was a vast, open hall filled with tables and chairs, much like the inns and taverns in the Loose Cultivator market. Apprentices and alchemists sat in small groups, sipping wine and nibbling on appetizers as they chatted amiably. The atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed and welcoming.

“Fellow Daoist Chu, finished with your refinement?”

“How was the harvest this time?”

“Think you could send a few clients my way?”

Clearly, Chu Xiu was a well-known figure here. The moment he entered, people began calling out greetings.

Wang Ze leaned in and whispered to Jiang Chen, “Fellow Daoist Chu once successfully refined a Foundation Pill. It was only a single, low-quality pill, but it earned him considerable fame.”

Jiang Chen processed this, thinking, *So, refining a Foundation Pill is the true dividing line in this profession.*

Chu Xiu had succeeded where countless others had failed. Even if it was just once, with a single, flawed pill, it made him a legend among his peers. It was the source of his status and his arrogance. Out in the wider world of cultivation, strength was everything. But here, in a community of alchemists, the one with the highest success rate and the best quality pills was king.

Yet, in the face of all this friendly enthusiasm, Chu Xiu remained utterly cold. He didn’t so much as glance at the people greeting him, acting as if he hadn’t heard a thing. He led Jiang Chen and Wang Ze straight to the wooden staircase and ascended to the second floor.

Compared to the boisterous hall below, the second floor was far quieter and more refined. Most of the seats were empty, with patrons clustered near the windows and railings, enjoying the view.

“The alchemists I know usually take their tea up here,” Chu Xiu said, sensing their curiosity.

“Of course, of course,” Wang Ze replied quickly.

Jiang Chen remained silent, simply following along.

Soon, they approached a table by a large window where three people were seated—two men and a woman, all of them alchemists.

“Old Chang,” Chu Xiu greeted one of them.

The oldest of the three, an elder with a weathered face, smiled warmly. “Little Chu! Finished with your work, I see.”

Chu Xiu nodded, then gestured to the two men behind him. “These two are Spirit Farmers. The one on the left is Wang Ze, and on the right is Jiang Chen.”

“Jiang Chen?”

The only woman at the table, who had been gazing out the window, whipped her head around, her eyes wide with surprise.

When Jiang Chen saw her face, he was just as stunned. “Lin Yan!”

It was Lin Yu’s older sister. What were the odds? After all this running around, he’d stumbled upon an acquaintance.

Chu Xiu looked between them, completely taken aback. “You two know each other?”

A playful, wicked grin spread across Lin Yan’s face. “Know him? Please. I’ve been dying to get my hands on that body of his!”