Although the carriage parked outside was of a style commonly found in the mortal world, its quality was anything but mundane.

The horses were not ordinary beasts; they were Cloud-Patterned Beasts, snow-white and radiating spiritual energy. The carriage itself was crafted from Cold Vein Sandalwood, with intricate green talismanic patterns flowing across its surface like water. Perfectly round, lustrous Night Pearls floated in green jade cups on either side of the shafts, emitting a soft, luxurious halo.

From top to bottom, inside and out, everything about this vehicle screamed that its owner possessed either a profound background or astonishing wealth.

But… would a person with such resources need to go on a blind date in a Spirit Farm?

Feeling puzzled, Jiang Chen commanded his Giant Leaf to descend. He hopped off and called out toward the house, “Senior Brother Wang!”

Not long after, the door creaked open, and Wang Ze hurried out, his face flushed with excitement. “Aiya, my Junior Brother Jiang, you’ve finally arrived!”

As Wang Ze approached, Jiang Chen pointed a thumb at the opulent carriage. “Senior Brother, don’t tell me this belongs to my blind date?”

Wang Ze nodded vigorously, practically vibrating with energy. “Junior Brother, you’re about to strike it rich this time. Truly rich!”

“Really?” Jiang Chen felt a flicker of anticipation. Perhaps this wouldn’t be a waste of time after all.

Wang Ze grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the door. “Since you’re already here, let’s go in and talk. Don’t keep them waiting.”

Half-pushed, half-dragged, Jiang Chen approached the threshold. His heart began to thump a little harder against his ribs.

As soon as they crossed into the main hall, a rich, luxurious scent of peonies assaulted Jiang Chen’s nose. His gaze swept toward the main chair, where a mature woman was lazily reclining.

She was… experienced.

Her eyebrows resembled two faded mountain ranges—passable at a glance, but blurry upon closer inspection. Her eye sockets were slightly sunken, her pupils like glass beads wrapped in a thin mist of age. Thick makeup barely concealed the brown age spots dusting the bridge of her nose.

Her figure was voluptuous, bordering on plump, wrapped in a moon-white ruqun skirt woven with gold threads. Her skin had a watery sheen from expensive maintenance, but it couldn’t hide the slack jawline or the faint rings of wrinkles circling her neck.

Her hair was divided into two strands, coiled into towering ring-shaped buns on either side of her head, secured by a blindingly bright golden phoenix hairpin.

Hearing them enter, she tilted her head. Her gaze held three parts curiosity, seven parts amorous allure, and ninety parts the vicissitudes of life.

There was a saying: A woman three years older is like embracing a gold brick.

Looking at the woman before him, Jiang Chen swallowed dryly. This wasn’t a gold brick; this was a whole gold mountain.

He leaned over to Wang Ze and whispered, “Senior Brother, why is our mother here?”

Wang Ze’s face twisted in awkwardness. “That isn’t my mother. That is your blind date’s mother.”

At that moment, hearing the commotion, people emerged from the inner room.

Two women walked out. The one leading was Wang Ze’s Dao Companion, Wu Xi’er. Following her was a woman who appeared to be in her thirties or forties.

She was wrapped in a tooth-white, cloud-patterned wide-sleeved robe that seemed to swallow her thin, frail frame. Her cheekbones were high and prominent, and the corners of her mouth turned downward in a habitual scowl. Her gaze was sharp, critical, and exuded a feeling of acrimony.

As soon as she emerged, she scrutinized Jiang Chen from head to toe, her eyes like calipers measuring goods. When she spotted something unsatisfactory—perhaps his simple robes—she didn’t bother hiding her disdain.

Wu Xi’er broke the silence, smiling lightly. “Junior Brother Jiang, long time no see.”

Jiang Chen snapped out of his daze and nodded. “Senior Sister Wu, long time no see.”

Wang Ze shot a meaningful glance at his wife. Wu Xi’er understood immediately and stepped forward to make introductions.

“These two distinguished guests are from the Moon Empire in the Eastern Region,” she said, gesturing to the seated woman. “The elder is Madam Liu Futang, and this is her third daughter, Zhao Yingli.”

One’s identity could often be discerned from their demeanor. Liu Futang exuded the luxurious, languid aura of a wealthy noblewoman who had certainly been a great beauty in her youth.

Wang Ze followed up, gesturing to Jiang Chen. “And this is my Junior Brother, Jiang Chen. He joined the core area of the Spirit Farm less than three years ago and is already at the Foundation Establishment stage. He possesses considerable talent in cultivation and planting.”

Introductions were made. Silence followed.

Instead of the atmosphere warming up, it instantly froze.

Zhao Yingli’s critical gaze didn’t soften just because Jiang Chen was a Foundation Establishment cultivator. To be honest, if not for that status, she wouldn’t have deigned to meet a farmer at all.

As for Jiang Chen, upon learning his date wasn’t the wealthy “Gold Mountain” on the chair, he felt a wave of relief—tinged with a tiny, inexplicable shred of regret.

His impression of the daughter, Zhao Yingli, was poor. Whether she was beautiful or not was irrelevant; her eyes were too sharp, too calculating. She didn’t look at him like a potential partner, but like a customer inspecting cattle at a market. That undisguised sneer of disdain made Jiang Chen’s stomach turn.

Madam Liu Futang broke the awkward silence. Her voice was soft and melodious, practiced in the art of social grace. “Since we’ve met, let’s discuss requirements.”

Wang Ze chimed in, trying to keep things moving. “Right, Junior Brother Jiang, what are your requirements?”

Jiang Chen kept his face expressionless. He had zero interest. “I don’t have any requirements.”

Liu Futang glanced at her silent daughter. Seeing Zhao Yingli refusing to speak, the mother sighed internally and continued. “Our requirements aren’t high. As long as you provide spirit plants and medicinal herbs for my daughter, you will receive a stipend of one hundred Mid-grade Spirit Stones every month.”

Jiang Chen frowned. The phrasing was odd. “A stipend? What do you mean?”

Zhao Yingli finally spoke. Her voice was piercing and sharp, grating on the ears. “What else could it mean? We are looking for a live-in son-in-law.”

Jiang Chen turned to look at Wang Ze, who was suddenly sweating. “Senior Brother, you didn’t mention this before I came.”

Before Wang Ze could stammer an excuse, Wu Xi’er laughed dryly. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t clear. Sister Zhao is indeed looking for a Wood Spirit Root cultivator to marry into their family.”

Liu Futang nodded gracefully. “My daughter has awakened a Fire Spirit Root. She is a somewhat well-known alchemist in the Earth Fire Zone. If you marry into our family, not only will you receive pills, but you will also obtain a stable supply of Spirit Stones and the full support of the Zhao Clan in the mundane world.”

Jiang Chen wasn’t stupid. “Live-in son-in-law? To put it bluntly, you want a servant to work like cattle and horses for your clan, but with a marriage certificate attached.”

Zhao Yingli’s face darkened. “How dare you! Look at your own status before you speak to us in such a tone.”

Jiang Chen laughed in sheer disbelief. “Perhaps you have status in the mortal world, but don’t forget where you are. This is the Cloud Sea Sect. We are cultivators.”

Liu Futang’s eyes flickered, but she maintained her composure. Zhao Yingli, however, bristled like an angry cat.

“Even without my mundane status,” she snapped, “don’t forget that I am a Primary Alchemist!”

Jiang Chen blinked. Then, he couldn’t hold it back. He laughed out loud.

“A Primary Alchemist? With that tone, I thought you were at least a Senior Alchemist. After all that posturing… you’re just low-level trash?”

Zhao Yingli turned purple. “You… you, you…”

Jiang Chen ignored her and cupped his hands toward Wang Ze and Wu Xi’er. “Thank you, Senior Brother and Senior Sister, for your ‘concern.’ But clearly, I have no fate with this low-level alchemist. I’ll take my leave.”

He turned and walked out, giving them no chance to argue.

Behind him, Zhao Yingli’s voice rose in a shriek of humiliated rage. “You! You’re just a filthy Spirit Farmer! How dare you offend a Primary Alchemist?!”

Jiang Chen waved his hand without looking back, his voice cool and carrying easily through the hall.

“In my book, a Primary Alchemist doesn’t even have the qualifications to cooperate with me, let alone marry me.”