By day, Jiang Chen tended to the first acre of his Grade-2 Spirit Farm. By night, he shifted his focus to the second acre.

Under this near-manic cultivation schedule, the flora within the two Spirit Farms flourished at a terrifying rate. The crops seemed to transform daily, shedding their old appearances for new, vibrant growth with every sunrise.

The Moonlight Grass, in particular, defied all logic. Typically, this crop required a full month to mature. Yet, in just seven short days, the stalks had already shot up to four inches in height.

Since they could be harvested at seven inches, Jiang Chen’s previous calculations held true: the Moonlight Grass would be ready for harvest within ten to fifteen days.

The following morning, Jiang Chen was busy channeling his Green Lotus Domain to nourish the Spirit Rice in the first field.

Suddenly, his spiritual sense pricked. Someone was approaching. Two people, to be exact.

Without hesitation, he withdrew the Companion Green Lotus, recalling the phenomenon instantly. By the time the visitors came into view, the field looked normal—or as normal as a high-yield Spirit Farm could look.

It was Jin Fugui and Mo Yu.

Jiang Chen wiped his hands and stepped forward to meet them. “What brings you two here?”

Jin Fugui grinned, his eyes practically sparkling. “It’s the end of the month, Old Jiang. Time to divide the spoils.”

Jiang Chen blinked, then nodded. He had been so engrossed in farming that he’d forgotten the date. They had agreed to split the profits from the Fire Peak venture monthly, and today was indeed the last day of October.

He ushered them into the wooden hut and firmly closed the door behind them.

The three men gathered around the dining table. Jin Fugui produced a small storage pouch and slammed it onto the table with a heavy thud.

“I bought this pouch specifically for our business,” Jin Fugui explained, puffing out his chest. “It’s strictly for holding the Spirit Stones earned from Fire Peak.”

Jiang Chen glanced at Mo Yu. The fisherman remained impassive; clearly, he had already been briefed. Jiang Chen didn’t mind being the last to know. As a figurehead manager, his role was simply to provide the premium fruits, vegetables, and Spirit Wine. He had stopped worrying about the exact profit margins weeks ago, his attention entirely consumed by his private Spirit Farm and the Loose Cultivator market.

“All right,” Jin Fugui said, rubbing his hands together. “Feast your eyes.”

He upended the pouch.

A cascade of spiritual light poured forth. Stones clattered onto the table, piling up so quickly that they spilled over the edges and bounced onto the floor. Jin Fugui didn’t stop. The flow continued—a waterfall of wealth.

Soon, the table was buried. The floor was disappearing.

Eventually, the living room of the small wooden hut was carpeted in Spirit Stones. The vast majority were small, glimmering Low-grade Spirit Stones, their sheer quantity overwhelming. Scattered among them, however, were the larger, denser Mid-grade Spirit Stones.

Silence descended on the hut, broken only by the heavy breathing of three men.

Jiang Chen and Mo Yu scanned the room, their eyes slightly dazzled by the sheer concentration of spiritual energy.

Jin Fugui looked at his partners, smug satisfaction written all over his face. “The number of franchisees dropped this month, sure. But the number of direct customers buying ingredients and resources? That exploded.”

He bent down and picked up twenty Mid-grade Spirit Stones, setting them aside. “These twenty cover our total operating costs for October.”

Mo Yu’s eyes widened. “Cost was only twenty Mid-grades?”

“We run a lean ship,” Jin Fugui chuckled. He didn’t keep them in suspense. “Excluding today’s earnings, our net profit for October sits at 440 Mid-grade Spirit Stones and 5,683 Low-grade Spirit Stones.”

Mo Yu sucked in a sharp breath. “Hiss!”

He had mentally calculated that the recruitment fees might net them around three hundred stones. He hadn’t expected the actual sales to dwarf that number so thoroughly. Even though fewer disciples were paying to join the franchise, the consumer base for their Spirit Wine, roasted meat, and premium produce had stabilized and grown. Word of mouth had turned Jin Fugui into a go-to supplier.

“Old Jiang,” Jin Fugui said, “you’ve got the brains for this. You run the numbers.”

“Right,” Mo Yu added, recovering from his shock. “Don’t forget Senior Brother Chen Bo still holds a twenty percent stake.”

Jiang Chen nodded, his mind already whirring. Chen Bo’s protection and initial investment earned him a fifth of the gross profit. However, the currencies had to be calculated separately; one couldn’t simply mix Mid-grade and Low-grade stones in the accounting.

“First, we set aside Chen Bo’s share,” Jiang Chen said methodically. “Twenty percent of the total.”

He did the mental math instantly. “Chen Bo gets 88 Mid-grade Spirit Stones and 1,137 Low-grade Spirit Stones.”

“That leaves the rest for us,” Jiang Chen continued. “I take seventy percent of the remainder. Jin Fugui takes twenty. Mo Yu takes ten.”

“My share,” Jiang Chen calculated, “comes to 246 Mid-grade and 3,182 Low-grade Spirit Stones.”

“Fugui, you get 70 Mid-grade and 909 Low-grade.”

“And Mo Yu, you take 35 Mid-grade and 455 Low-grade.”

Mo Yu pumped a fist. “With this haul, I can finally buy that high-tier fishing rod!”

Jin Fugui rolled his eyes. “Look at you, so unambitious. With this kind of capital, you should be reinvesting! Buy more spirit beasts to raise!”

“This really took us by surprise,” Mo Yu muttered, ignoring the critique, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

Despite the excitement, none of them moved to grab the stones yet. The distribution had to be physically handled by Jiang Chen. That was the rule, and in a world of cultivators, boundaries were essential.

Seeing their impatient glances, Jiang Chen wasted no time. He began sorting the piles.

An incense stick’s worth of time later, the room was organized.

Jiang Chen, Jin Fugui, and Mo Yu swept their respective shares into their personal storage bags. What remained on the floor was a neat pile: 88 Mid-grade and 1,137 Low-grade Spirit Stones—Chen Bo’s dividends.

Jin Fugui looked at the remaining pile. “Old Jiang, you have the best relationship with Senior Brother Chen. Want to handle the delivery?”

“I can do it if you’re busy,” Mo Yu offered. “I’m heading that way.”

Of the three, Mo Yu was the idlest. He spent his life fishing or walking to fishing spots. He rarely cultivated or crafted talismans, yet his strength mysteriously continued to creep upward.

Jiang Chen waved his hand. “No, I have time. I’ll go myself.”

It wasn’t a lack of trust. Jin Fugui and Mo Yu had proven their character. It was about etiquette. Personally delivering such a large sum showed respect to Chen Bo, solidifying a connection that was vital for their protection.

The two nodded, understanding the logic.

As they turned to leave, Mo Yu paused at the door. “Old Jiang, need me to cast a Minor Rain Spell before I go?”

Jiang Chen’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. For the first time, he shook his head. “Not today. The field’s moisture levels are fine.”

He couldn’t risk Mo Yu sensing the abnormalities in the Variant Rice or the accelerated growth of the Moonlight Grass.

Mo Yu didn’t press the issue. He and Jin Fugui stepped out into the fresh air, their voices drifting back as they walked away. They were already plotting a trip to the Black Dragon Pool to fish for Dragon Carp. With their pockets full of cash and the danger in that area gone, they were in high spirits.

Watching their retreating backs, Jiang Chen exhaled. He turned back, swept Chen Bo’s share into a separate storage pouch, and retrieved his Communication Talisman.

Just as he was about to send a message to ask if Senior Brother Chen was available, a second talisman in his robe buzzed with a soft vibration.

It was a message from the artifact refiner.

“Little Brother, your storage artifact, the [Jade Green Gourd], has been successfully forged. Come and get it!”

Jiang Chen’s eyebrows shot up. He quickly sent a reply asking when would be a good time.

The response was immediate and dripping with a playful, casual tone: “What kind of question is that? You can come anytime. Would Big Sister ever refuse you?”