Each blade was seven inches long, curving like a perfect silver crescent. Set against the crisp, cold backdrop of winter, the field shimmered with ethereal beauty.

There were only five hundred plants in this harvest, half the usual amount, as Yu Caiqing’s demand had decreased. However, the rapid growth cycle of these rare plants—maturing twice a month—more than made up for the lower volume.

Jiang Chen wasted no time. He moved through the field with practiced efficiency, his sickle flashing in the dim light.

Once the silver harvest was secured, he turned his attention to the [Golden Crow Vines].

Despite the biting winter chill, the vines radiated a gentle, pulsing warmth. Each mature vine sprawled over three meters, their thick, gnarled branches looking like dragon claws grasping at the sky.

Harvesting these required a delicate touch. Cutting the vine itself was wasteful; the true treasure lay underground.

Jiang Chen switched his sickle for a small hoe and crouched down. He carefully excavated the roots, revealing round, glowing nodules. These nodules were concentrated reservoirs of solar fire energy, the key ingredient for Yu Caiqing’s alchemy.

Removing the nodule would cause the vine above to wither, but the root system would survive. As long as the soil remained nutrient-rich, new nodules would form for the next cycle.

And Jiang Chen’s soil was nothing short of miraculous. Between Jin Fugui’s century-old beast manure, Mo Yu’s [Minor Rain Spell], and his own daily [Green Lotus Domain], the black earth was practically bursting with life force.

He scanned the harvest with his Spiritual Sense.

[Top-quality Golden Crow Nodule] [Top-quality Moonlight Grass]

Everything was Top-quality. His farming skills had reached a point of absolute consistency.

Thirty minutes later, the work was done.

This harvest added 4,200 days to his Lifespan. It wasn’t a massive windfall, but it helped replenish the years he’d burned maxing out his techniques. The real jackpot would come from his other field, where the Spirit Rice, vegetables, and [Spirit Clover] were still growing.

There was only one regret: none of the plants had mutated, despite his repeated use of the [Spirit Finger]. If even one had succeeded, his profits would have skyrocketed tenfold.

Jiang Chen decided not to replant the [Moonlight Grass] immediately. He would wait for Yu Caiqing’s next order. If she didn’t need more, he planned to transplant the [Variant Mother Rice] into the empty plot. Winter was the perfect time to cultivate a new batch of variant offspring.

Time flew. By noon, Jiang Chen was in the kitchen preparing lunch when a familiar commotion arose outside.

Jin Fugui and Mo Yu had arrived together.

It was no coincidence. Beast Mountain and the Rain Pavilion were miles apart; they had clearly coordinated this ambush.

Jin Fugui looked around the yard, shaking his head. “Old Jiang, it used to be just you and the dog. Now look at this place.”

Da Huang, the Pearl Chickens, the five Fire Crows circling overhead, and the looming two-meter-tall wooden puppet, Fortress.

“It’s livelier than my fish tank,” Mo Yu agreed solemnly.

“Has your fish tank ever actually held fish?” Jiang Chen shot back.

Mo Yu opened his mouth, then closed it, defeated.

“Isn’t lively good?” Jiang Chen asked, stirring the pot.

Jin Fugui and Mo Yu exchanged a conspiratorial glance, then broke into matching grins. “It looks lively, sure. But we feel like something is missing.”

Jiang Chen eyed the fat cultivator’s expression. “Spit it out. What’s missing?”

Jin Fugui reached into his storage bag and pulled out a familiar, slightly crumpled paper figure. He leered mischievously. “Remember this? People offered good money for it, but I couldn’t bear to sell. I saved it specifically for you for two years!”

Jiang Chen stared at the paper doll. It took him a long moment to find his voice.

“Get out.”

Jin Fugui cackled and stowed the doll away. “Just kidding, just kidding. But seriously, Old Jiang… dogs, chickens, crows, puppets… none of them can keep you warm at night. You need a living, breathing Dao Companion!”

Mo Yu nodded sagely. “Exactly! Both of us are actively looking. But you? You just farm all day. I bet you didn’t even go to the Spirit Farm Meet-and-Greet the other night.”

“Meet-and-greet?” Jiang Chen blinked.

The two friends groaned in unison.

“The other night,” Jin Fugui explained with exaggerated patience, “the core management office hosted a mixer at the palace. It was basically a matchmaking event for lonely Spirit Farmers. Similar to the Flower Sea festival.”

“Everyone knew about it,” Mo Yu added, incredulous. “How could you not?”

Jiang Chen froze. Suddenly, the image of Senior Brothers Chen and Wang looking like zombies at 6:30 AM made perfect sense. They had been out all night chasing romance.

As for Jiang Chen? He had been sitting on his bed, mind-melded with five crows, watching himself from ten different angles.

He must have received a notification, but he had completely ignored it.

Jin Fugui sighed, placing a heavy hand on Jiang Chen’s shoulder. “Old Jiang… sometimes I really worry about your orientation.”

Jiang Chen rolled his eyes. “You’re the one with problems.”

“If you don’t have a problem,” Jin Fugui countered, “why did you swap out Lin Yu for Old Mo?”

“Hey!” Mo Yu’s face flushed crimson. “Dead fatty, leave me out of this!”

Whether Jiang Chen had issues was debatable, but Mo Yu knew his own orientation was just fine. His problem was simply… supply and demand.

Jiang Chen opened his mouth to defend himself, but looking into Jin Fugui’s eyes—shining with the ‘wisdom’ of a man who owned a paper doll collection—he realized explanations were futile.

He took a deep breath and finally squeezed out a sentence.

“I am… too eager to improve.”