The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Since the monthly yield of Top-quality Spirit Wine was limited—fluctuating between one hundred and two hundred jin—Jiang Chen couldn’t pay the full thousand jin upfront.

He negotiated a payment plan with Tie Xin: a minimum installment of fifty jin per month, with the goal of clearing the debt within two years.

This arrangement suited Jiang Chen perfectly. It allowed him to preserve his stockpile of Mid-grade Spirit Stones, hiding the true extent of his wealth, while simultaneously dampening any curiosity Tie Xin might have about his resources. It was killing two birds with one stone.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

Approximately an hour later, a harsh caw echoed from the sky.

The Fire Crow.

Jiang Chen immediately closed his eyes, tapping into the bird’s shared vision.

On the horizon, a swaying black dot was approaching rapidly. It started small but expanded quickly, revealing itself to be Tie Xin’s signature ink-black flying shuttle.

She was flying fast—likely spurred on by the promise of premium alcohol.

Through the crow’s eyes, Jiang Chen watched the shuttle tilt dangerously. It began a steep, uncontrolled descent, careening toward his property like a falling meteor.

Jiang Chen opened his own eyes just in time to hear a resounding THUD from the front yard. The ground beneath his feet trembled.

He didn’t even flinch. He was used to this.

When they had first met, Tie Xin had maintained a veneer of professionalism, keeping her drinking in check. But as their business relationship deepened into familiarity, she had dropped the act completely.

Jiang Chen stepped outside to inspect the damage.

The crash landing was actually quite precise, stopping a safe dozen meters away from the Spirit Farm and the wooden house.

Tie Xin crawled out of the wreckage, dusting herself off. “Why does this thing feel so sluggish lately? Maybe it’s time to upgrade my ride.”

Jiang Chen curled his lip. “You could buy ten thousand shuttles, and you’d wreck every single one of them. It’s not the ride; it’s the pilot.”

Honestly, it was a miracle the ink-black shuttle was still in one piece.

Tie Xin rolled her eyes. “Watch your mouth, kid. I’m your creditor now.”

“…” Jiang Chen wisely chose silence.

Tie Xin scanned the surroundings, ready to get to work, but her gaze froze.

She stared at the fields. She knew the rules: a Spirit Farmer only unlocked a second mu of Second-Grade land upon reaching Foundation Establishment.

But in front of her were three distinct plots.

That meant Jiang Chen had expanded again in a remarkably short time.

Sensing her shock, Jiang Chen quickly offered a cover story. “That third plot… a generous Senior Brother gifted it to me.”

Tie Xin let out a breath she’d been holding. “Damn, you scared me. For a second, I thought you’d already hit mid-Foundation Establishment.”

Jiang Chen blinked, his expression carefully neutral. Well, actually…

Tie Xin hopped off her shuttle, her eyes roving over the three fields. “So, where are we putting this array?”

Jiang Chen analyzed his layout.

The first field was his stable food source, planted with Spirit Rice. Essential, but basic. The third field was brand new—raw earth, unplowed and unfertilized. The second field, however, was surrounded by the precious Golden Crow Vines.

“The second field,” Jiang Chen said. “If we put it anywhere else, I’d have to transplant all those vines. Too much hassle.”

He retrieved a pouch containing one hundred and fifty Mid-grade Spirit Stones and held it out.

Tie Xin waved it away dismissively. “Save the stones for later. I’m here for the wine.”

Jiang Chen smiled awkwardly, swapping the pouch of stones for a heavy jar of Top-quality Spirit Wine.

Exactly fifty jin.

Tie Xin’s eyes lit up like lanterns. She snatched the jar, popping the seal and inhaling deeply. “Ah! Finally!”

“Maybe…” Jiang Chen suggested cautiously, “you should install the formation before you get hammered?”

Tie Xin took a massive swig, let out a satisfied belch, and wagged a finger at him. “You don’t understand, kid. The better the wine, the faster I work.”

Jiang Chen shut his mouth. He didn’t want to annoy the artisan holding the keys to his security.

Installing a high-grade formation was theoretically simple, consisting of five steps: Surveying the Feng Shui, Terraforming, Material Placement, Setting the Eye, and Activation.

In practice, it was an art form.

Tie Xin held her wine skin in her left hand and a geomantic compass in her right. She wandered around the perimeter of the second field, drinking and muttering calculations in equal measure.

Jiang Chen followed her, fascinated.

Professions like Blacksmithing, Alchemy, and Talisman crafting could be learned by rote memorization and pattern recognition. But Formation Mastery required intuition. Every landscape was unique, requiring bespoke adjustments on the fly.

Time ticked by.

Tie Xin circled the field repeatedly, adjusting her angle, squinting at the compass, and taking readings.

Suddenly, she stopped. Her gaze locked onto the Poplar Tree standing near the house.

“Interesting,” she murmured, looking the tree up and down. “This tree sits in the West. The West corresponds to the Metal element.”

She took another sip of wine, her eyes narrowing. “Metal overcomes Wood. By all laws of Feng Shui, a tree in this position should be suppressed—withered, stunted, constantly fighting to survive. Yet this thing is thriving. It’s practically gorging on Spirit Qi, as if it’s been reborn.”

Jiang Chen’s heart skipped a beat. “What else do you see?”

Tie Xin shook her head. “Nothing specific. But this tree has altered the local Feng Shui flow. I need to adjust the layout to compensate.”

Jiang Chen felt a pang of disappointment mixed with relief. The tree had changed, confirming his suspicions about the Fortress puppet’s influence, but even a master like Tie Xin couldn’t pinpoint the cause.

“Dig a trench here,” Tie Xin commanded, pointing to a spot. “Divert the water flow this way!”

“We need Spirit Stones here. Low-grade is fine!”

For the next four hours, the two of them worked without a break. They didn’t eat; they barely spoke outside of instructions.

Finally, the work was done.

The Formation Eye was buried near the new irrigation trench, surrounded by a cluster of Low-grade Spirit Stones. At its heart sat a single, pulsing Mid-grade Spirit Stone.

The [Mirror Flower Water Moon Array] was powerful—capable of harnessing sunlight by day and moonlight by night—but it was a hungry beast. Its passive consumption of Spirit Stones was high.

An ordinary Spirit Farmer, struggling with a single field, would go bankrupt trying to keep it running. But for Jiang Chen, with three fields and multiple income streams, the maintenance cost was negligible.

“Activate!” Tie Xin shouted.

The array hummed to life.

Instantly, the atmosphere around the second field shifted.

First, the sense of direction warped. Walking toward the field felt like walking sideways. Second, the visual reality blurred.

Jiang Chen, as the array’s owner, held the master key and was unaffected. He closed his eyes and switched to the Fire Crow’s vision to see what an intruder would see.

He gasped.

In reality, the Golden Crow Vines only lined the perimeter of the field.

But through the eyes of the crow, the entire mu of land appeared to be a dense, writhing jungle of the thorny, predatory vines. It was a terrifying sight, enough to make any thief think twice before stepping foot inside.