Rise of the Wang Clan: Starting with a Portable Farm

Chapter 190: Five Years

Qingniu Fang, Wang Family Ridge.

Five years had passed since the great war.

In that time, Wang Hao’s prestige had soared to new heights. Riding this wave of momentum, he pushed forward with aggressive, sweeping reforms.

These weren’t blind changes. He was tangibly improving the clan’s welfare, leaving the old guard with no room to object. Who could argue against prosperity?

To Wang Hao, hoarding Spirit Stones was pointless. Wealth had to circulate. It had to be Invested.

He viewed the Wang Clan as his primary asset. As the family grew stronger, it would pay him dividends in safety and resources.

Take Spirit Veins, for example. For a lone cultivator to seize a mountain with a Tier 3 Spirit Vein was a pipe dream. But for a clan backed by dozens of Foundation Establishment experts? It was a simple matter of conquest.

The benefits of cultivating on a high-grade Spirit Vein were immense, and Wang Hao intended to secure them.

His first move was to overhaul the “Encouraged Childbirth Policy.”

Originally, the Rewards were modest: 20 Spirit Stones for Five Spiritual Roots, 30 for Four, 50 for Three, and 200 for Two. A Heavenly Spiritual Root promised 1,000, though none had appeared yet.

Wang Hao doubled these figures overnight.

The result was immediate: a frenzy of marriages and concubinage swept the ridge. Wedding horns blared almost daily. The 90-year-old granduncle alone took ten more mortal wives in rapid succession. With one foot in the grave and his Dao path severed, he decided to cash in on his biology to leave a legacy of Spirit Stones for his descendants.

Task Rewards saw a similar spike.

Take the Spirit Field guardianship task. Originally, it paid 3 Spirit Stones per mu annually. The logic was simple: one mu produced two harvests a year, yielding about 200 jin of Spirit Rice. After deducting seed costs, the net profit was only a dozen stones. Paying a guardian 3 stones was considered fair market value. After all, tending 10 mu required little effort and didn’t hinder Cultivation, netting a low-level disciple 30 stones a year.

But Wang Hao raised the pay to 6 Spirit Stones.

He effectively split the profit fifty-fifty with the guardians.

Between base pay, performance bonuses, and welfare, a Qi Refining disciple now earned over 100 Spirit Stones a year. The sharpest among them pulled in 200 or 300.

Flush with cash, they bought Magical Artifacts and Pills. Their personal strength soared, and by extension, so did the Wang Clan’s.

Borrowing management techniques from the Sects and his experience in Qingniu Fang, Wang Hao implemented a mandatory task system to temper the clan’s discipline. Completing tasks yielded Contribution Points, Spirit Stones, artifacts, and pills.

This aggressive spending naturally strained the family treasury. Wang Hao subsidized the deficit using the output from his personal Farm.

With Wang Yanzhao focused entirely on alchemy to earn the Contribution Points for Li Dexi’s Foundation Establishment Pill, family management fell to Wang Hao. This gave him the freedom to maneuver the clan’s finances as he saw fit.

This slowed his Farm’s development—he was stuck at 6 Golden Plots—but he considered it a worthy trade.

Selling crops to the System Shop yielded cold numbers. Funneling resources into the clan yielded loyalty and tangible Spirit Stones he could use in the wider world, like Wanxiang City.

However, luxury bred complacency. Some clansmen were content to rot in the fields, collecting stipends and waiting for death.

Wang Hao cracked down hard. He mandated that every cultivator complete two family tasks per year and one combat mission every two years.

Slackers received warnings and pay cuts. Three years of idleness meant total welfare severance. Obstinate refusal meant expulsion.

Exceptions were made for Secluded Cultivation or bottlenecks, but these required prior approval and proof of progress to prevent loophole abuse.

The only true “Get Out of Jail Free” card was the Childbirth Policy. Birthing a child with Spiritual Roots bought two years of freedom from mandatory tasks. The Fourteenth Granduncle had effectively retired on this clause alone. Wang Hao quickly patched the loophole to prevent hereditary laziness among the children, ensuring the exemption didn’t pass down.

For those who worked, the rewards were lucrative.

In the past, owning a single offensive Magical Artifact was a luxury. Now, the standard issue for a Wang clansman was one offensive and one defensive artifact. Some elites carried three or four. Using pills to aid cultivation had shifted from a rarity to a norm.

Wang Wenjiang was a standout of this new era.

A 24-year-old with Three Spiritual Roots, he rode the wave of reform to reach the eighth layer of Qi Refining. Foundation Establishment before 30 was a real possibility.

One afternoon, he arrived at Wang Hao’s cave dwelling, sending a transmission talisman and waiting respectfully outside.

When Wang Hao emerged, Wang Wenjiang hurried forward, grinning.

“Greetings, Fifth Brother! You haven’t aged a day—in fact, you look even more dashing!”

Wang Hao shook his head, smiling. The kid was glib, but his charisma allowed him to mix with anyone.

“You’re here for the Puppet Beast? Task done?”

To hone his skills and protect his clansmen, Wang Hao had introduced Puppet Beasts as high-tier Rewards. He grew Yin Purple Pine in his Farm to supply the materials. A single acre of the black soil yielded dozens of trees every two and a half years—more than enough for mass production.

While useless to Wang Hao, Tier 1 puppets were invaluable to Qi Refining disciples, superior even to Spirit Beasts. No feeding, no emotional attachment, low maintenance cost. Just insert Spirit Stones and they could scout, lure monsters, or tank damage. Even if they broke, they could be repaired.

Wang Hao didn’t dirty his hands with mass production anymore. The family now had a team of Novice puppeteers handling repairs and low-grade fabrication.

“Not yet, Fifth Brother,” Wang Wenjiang said, his smile fading slightly. “Actually… I’m here to ask a favor.”

He explained his situation.

Wang Wenjiang had set his sights on Foundation Establishment. But the Contribution Points required for a Pill were astronomical—decades of grinding tasks. He couldn’t wait. He intended to hunt Demon Beasts to bridge the gap.