By all rights, the poplar tree should have been bare.

To survive the harsh winter climate, the tree had shed its leaves months ago, standing as a skeletal silhouette against the gray sky since late autumn.

Yet now, impossibly, emerald green buds were breaking through the rough bark.

Jiang Chen activated his [Green Lotus Art], extending his spiritual sense deep into the trunk. He channeled the Wood Spirit Power from his dantian, feeling the pulse of life within the wood.

His eyes widened. The interior of the tree was flooding with Wood Spirit Qi.

The concentration was staggering. Even Top-quality Spirit Rice, grown in the depths of winter, couldn’t achieve this level of density.

Before today, this poplar had been entirely ordinary. It had suffered through storms and neglect, its trunk scarred and battered.

Now, not only had it grown significantly taller, but the old scars had vanished, replaced by smooth, healthy bark.

Jiang Chen possessed two mutated Spirit Roots: Thunder-Fire and Green Wood. His affinity with nature allowed him to detect the slightest shift in the vegetation around him instantly.

Since he hadn’t sensed this change happening, it meant the growth was natural—or at least, non-hostile.

But a tree sprouting spring buds in the dead of winter? That was a flagrant violation of natural law.

Jiang Chen scanned the surroundings. There were no external arrays, no leaking artifacts.

His gaze slowly drifted to the Fortress.

The two-meter-tall puppet stood silently near the tree. Had it noticed the change first?

No, Jiang Chen realized with a start. It’s possible the tree only changed after the puppet arrived.

He frowned, realizing how little he actually knew about Puppetry.

His knowledge came from scattered texts—theoretical, dry, and incomplete. He knew that “Puppetry” was a relatively new profession, emerging only a millennium ago.

Masters of the craft used their specific Spirit Roots to create constructs with matching attributes. Legend had it that the creations of high-level Puppeteers were indistinguishable from true cultivators. They could cultivate, battle, and explore Secret Realms, serving as perfect, loyal avatars.

If the poplar tree’s evolution was connected to the Fortress, it suggested the puppet possessed an innate talent or passive aura he hadn’t known about.

“A hidden buff?” Jiang Chen mused.

Unfortunately, he was clueless about the mechanics. He would need to ask Long Ao or hunt down some specialized manuals later. It seemed there was a deep connection between Puppetry and the Wood Spirit Root that he had yet to explore.

After observing for a while and confirming the energy was beneficial rather than harmful, Jiang Chen turned and headed back inside.

He didn’t rest. Instead, he pulled a Communication Talisman from his storage.

If he was going to transplant the Variant Mother Rice, he needed better security. That meant a new Formation.

He only knew one Formation Master. The man was a drunkard, often incoherent, and looked about as reliable as a wet paper towel. But when it came to his craft, his talent was undeniable.

Jiang Chen infused his Qi into the talisman. “Tie Xin, I need your help with a Formation.”

Tie Xin’s voice crackled back, sounding surprised. “Again? If memory serves, it’s barely been a year since I set up that [Concealing Breath Formation] for you.”

“My farm has expanded,” Jiang Chen said, keeping his tone serious. “The old formation can’t cover the new acreage. I need a second layer of security, something robust.”

Tie Xin paused, the sound of liquid sloshing in the background. “Fair enough. Do you want another Concealing Breath setup, or are you looking to upgrade?”

“I need privacy,” Jiang Chen said. “Something that stops prying eyes completely.”

“Privacy, eh?” Tie Xin took a loud gulp of wine. “I have options, but the good stuff isn’t cheap. You sure your wallet can handle it?”

“List them.”

“Alright. Low-tier options: [Bamboo Shadow], [Shifting Positions], or the [Rising Mist Array]. They’re cheap, functional, but basic.” Tie Xin cleared his throat. “High-tier options: [Mirror Flower Array] and [Water Moon Array]. If you combine those two, you get the [Mirror Flower Water Moon Array]. It’s a pseudo-Earth-grade setup.”

Jiang Chen hesitated. “Which one do you recommend?”

“If it were me?” Tie Xin snorted. “I’d never trust the low-tier trash. If you have the coin, get the [Mirror Flower Water Moon]. Don’t skimp on defense, Jiang Chen. Cheap arrays are like paper walls; anyone with half a brain can peek through or tear them down. The higher the grade, the higher the cultivation needed to breach it.”

“What does it do?” Jiang Chen asked. “And what’s the damage?”

If the price was within reason, he wanted the best. Solving the problem once and for all was cheaper than fixing a disaster later.

“The [Mirror Flower Water Moon Array] is dynamic,” Tie Xin explained, his voice taking on a slightly poetic lilt. “By day, it absorbs sunlight to create the ‘Flower in the Mirror.’ By night, it drinks moonlight to weave the ‘Moon in the Water.’ It creates a seamless illusion. Outsiders see a believable reality, but it’s nothing but a reflection. Sound in the air, color in the image… endless variations.”

Jiang Chen did the math. The standalone arrays only worked half the time. The combination offered 24/7 protection.

“The price?” Jiang Chen asked cautiously.

“For anyone else, four hundred Mid-grade Spirit Stones,” Tie Xin said. “For you? Three hundred and fifty.”

Jiang Chen went silent.

He had the money. He could sell a single scrap from his Jade Green Gourd and buy the array ten times over.

But a humble Spirit Farmer dropping three hundred and fifty Mid-grade stones in one lump sum? That was a beacon for trouble. It screamed, “I have a secret.”

He needed to maintain the facade of a struggling, slightly successful farmer.

Tie Xin mistook the silence for poverty. “It is a steep price, I know. Look, if cash is tight, we can work out a payment plan. Or… you could barter with that Spirit Wine of yours.”

Jiang Chen’s eyes lit up. This was perfect.

“I can scrape together one hundred and fifty Mid-grade Spirit Stones right now,” Jiang Chen said, feigning reluctance. “If you’d accept Spirit Wine for the balance, you’d be saving my life.”

“Done!” Tie Xin sounded more excited about the wine than the stones. He audibly licked his lips. “So, for the remaining two hundred stones… how much of that Top-quality Spirit Wine are you offering?”

Jiang Chen made a show of calculating, pausing for effect before delivering the number.

“One thousand jin.”