Mid-flight, Jiang Chen paused, looking back at his companions. “How about we call Senior Brother Chen along, too?”

Chen Bo was a solitary creature. He had no family left, having severed ties with his clan years ago. His only remaining relative wasn’t even within the Cloud Sea Sect. Although he constantly claimed to enjoy the peace of his own world, Jiang Chen saw through the façade. Every time their eyes met, a profound, lingering loneliness stared back.

Jin Fugui nodded, his jowls wobbling slightly. “Sure. We can hand over his share of the Spirit Stones while we’re at it.”

Mo Yu shrugged, adjusting his robes. “I have no objections.”

With the consensus reached, Jiang Chen retrieved Chen Bo’s Communication Talisman.

Meanwhile, on the far side of the Spirit Farms.

Chen Bo lay on his bed, his eyes fixed blankly on the stone ceiling.

The house was vast, cold, and silent. It was so quiet he could hear the thrum of his own heartbeat. The chill and the solitude blended into a bitter cocktail of torment.

When he was a child, he had prayed for time to speed up. Now that he was grown, he was terrified of the nights that refused to end.

He shouldn’t have been cold—he was a cultivator, after all—yet a phantom chill seeped into his marrow. Gooseflesh rippled across his skin. The fine hairs on his arms stood on end. The cold was so intense it warped his perception; in the shadows of the rafters, he hallucinated his deceased parents smiling down at him.

Suddenly, a ragged, hysterical howl tore from his throat, shattering the silence.

“Why is it New Year’s again?!”

Just then, a faint vibration buzzed from his Storage Bag.

Chen Bo wanted to ignore it. He wanted to wallow in the misery. But the buzzing was persistent, an annoying tether to reality.

Resigned, he opened the bag and pulled out a Communication Talisman. It glowed with a soft, spiritual light.

There weren’t many people in the entire Cloud Sea Sect who had his contact rune. In fact, there was only one person whose talisman would look this worn from frequent use.

A sliver of anticipation pierced through his gloom. He injected a stream of Wood Qi into the jade slip.

Jiang Chen’s voice echoed out.

Three simple words.

Chen Bo’s depression evaporated, replaced by a wide, goofy grin. “Alright!”

Moments later, the Giant Leaf artifact groaned under the added weight, carrying four passengers instead of three.

With Jin Fugui on board, the leaf felt decidedly cramped.

Jiang Chen couldn’t help but jab an elbow into his friend’s side. “Old Jin, you really need to lose some weight.”

Jin Fugui waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. At home, I’m considered the skinny one.”

“That just means your family is massive,” Jiang Chen retorted. “Here, you’re easily the fattest among us.”

Mo Yu chimed in with a sneer. “If you were a fish, I wouldn’t even try to reel you in. I’d cut the line before you dragged me underwater to drown.”

Jin Fugui curled his lip. “Pfft. You’re just jealous.”

Jiang Chen exchanged a baffled look with Mo Yu. “Jealous of what?”

“Jealous of my rugged good looks, obviously!” Jin Fugui declared, puffing out his chest.

“Bullshit,” Mo Yu shot back immediately. “I am objectively the most handsome man in this group.”

Watching them bicker, Chen Bo let out a genuine laugh. “Heh heh heh!”

The four friends continued to horse around, their laughter trailing behind them as they descended into the Red Leaf Valley market.

The weather was brutal. Goose-feather snow drifted down in heavy sheets, blanketing the world in white. Despite the biting cold, the valley was alive. The trading posts of the five major forces were packed shoulder-to-shoulder, a bustling sea of heads bobbing amidst the steam of street food and the glow of lanterns.

With the wealthy Jin Fugui around, the group certainly wouldn’t lack for high-quality spirit meat. With Jiang Chen, the master farmer, they had plenty of spiritual rice and vegetables. They had no urgent needs, so they simply strolled down the main thoroughfare, soaking in the atmosphere.

They were in no rush to return to the silence of their own homes.

“Spring couplets! Inscribed with authentic talismanic scripts! Ward off evil for the New Year!”

“Water Spirit Root cultivator seeking shelter! Limited time offer for the holidays! Will perform all household duties!”

“The most popular mortal pastries! We have everything you could crave!”

It was chaotic. It was lively.

It was everything Chen Bo had been missing.

Jiang Chen observed his friends as they walked. Jin Fugui, Mo Yu, and Chen Bo didn’t spare a glance for the spring couplets, the ‘Fu’ fortune characters, or the festive red lanterns. Chen Bo, in particular, seemed to deliberately avert his eyes from the decorations.

It seemed they were only here for the noise, the crowd, and the fleeting warmth of companionship. Their purchases were strictly consumables—food to eat, wine to drink. Temporary comforts.

Among the four, only Jiang Chen bought door couplets, red lanterns, and paper decorations. He was the only one building a home.

As they wandered, they spotted a familiar face.

It was one of the four disciples who had been promoted to formal status at the same time as them.

He looked far more spirited than before. By his side walked a female Dao Companion. She was ordinary in appearance, but her belly was swollen with life—she was heavily pregnant.

Judging by her attire and aura, she wasn’t a coveted Water Spirit Root cultivator, but a Wood Spirit Root holder.

In the cultivation world, most Spirit Farmers who couldn’t secure a Water Spirit Root partner would settle for a Wood Spirit Root. Two Wood cultivators farming together created a synergy that ensured a stable, high-quality harvest. It was a pragmatic, comfortable life.

Jiang Chen scanned the crowd but saw no sign of Zhao Ziyao, who used to run with that group.

Seeing the pregnant couple, Jiang Chen’s thoughts drifted to another person.

It’s been two years already. I wonder what that kid is up to.

The group loitered until evening fell, the lanterns of the market lighting up the snow.

Realizing it was getting late, they finally decided to head back.

Mo Yu had to return to the Rain Pavilion, so he peeled off first. Jiang Chen, Chen Bo, and Jin Fugui boarded the Giant Leaf and flew until they reached the fork in the road leading to their respective plots.

Just before they parted ways, Jiang Chen turned to the merchant. “Old Jin, I heard rumors. Did Senior Brother Long actually fight Mo Sha?”

Jin Fugui’s expression grew complicated. He sighed. “Senior Brother Long won… but he also lost.”

“What does that mean?” Jiang Chen frowned.

“Long Ao won the duel,” Jin Fugui explained, his voice lowering. “But his contracted spirit beast, Storm Crane 7, took a devastating hit. It’s severely injured. Even if Long Ao recovers enough to enter the formal disciple competition after the New Year, he won’t have the strength to make it to the finals.”

Jiang Chen looked confused. “Even without the crane, Senior Brother Long is a dual Spirit Root genius. He should be formidable on his own.”

“You’re forgetting the pact,” Jin Fugui said, shaking his head. “One loss, all losses. A spirit beast and its master share their vitality. With Storm Crane 7 critically wounded, Senior Brother Long’s soul and body have taken a massive backlash. He’s hurt, Jiang Chen. Badly.”

Jiang Chen nodded slowly, understanding dawning on him.

It was a pyrrhic victory. Long Ao had used his thousand-year-old beast to crush Mo Sha, but the cost had been his future. He would miss the upcoming competition. His next chance to prove himself wouldn’t come for another ten years.

Jin Fugui summoned his spirit camel, waved goodbye, and galloped off into the snow.

Jiang Chen and Chen Bo continued forward for a short while longer before their paths diverged.

Jiang Chen cupped his hands, bowing formally. “Senior Brother, see you next year!”

Chen Bo, who rarely observed such pleasantries, awkwardly cupped his hands back. “See you next year.”

Jiang Chen hopped back onto his Giant Leaf, urging it forward through the howling wind and biting snow.

He was less than a hundred meters from the sanctuary of his Spirit Farm when his spiritual sense pinged.

Someone was there.

Yu Caiqing.

She stood alone before his gate, a solitary figure amidst the whiteout. Her aura was terrifyingly cold, her body radiating a chill that rivaled the winter storm. She stood motionless, like a sculpture carved from glacial ice.

Jiang Chen hurriedly descended, landing the Giant Leaf nearby. “Senior Sister Yu!”

Hearing his voice, Yu Caiqing turned. Her expression was unreadable. “Where have you been?”

Jiang Chen scratched his head, feeling like a truant schoolboy. “I went to the Red Leaf Valley market to stock up on New Year’s goods.”

He quickly unlocked the gate and ushered her inside. “Senior Sister, please, come in. It’s freezing out here.”

Yu Caiqing stepped into his stone house. The warmth of the formation enveloped them. She looked around, her eyes sweeping over his new furniture and renovations. A rare, satisfied smile tugged at her lips.

“I thought you were no different from the other brute Spirit Farmers,” she said, her voice softening. “But it turns out you have a bit of taste.”

Jiang Chen smiled, setting his purchased goods on the table. “Senior Sister, for you to visit me this late… is there something urgent?”

Yu Caiqing blinked, her icy demeanor melting into something more fluid, more dangerous. “Do you remember what I told you about the Ice-Water Spirit Root?”

“I do.”

“Although I bought the Ice Soul Orb from you, and it has indeed accelerated the mutation of my Spirit Root… I want it to be faster.”

Jiang Chen raised an eyebrow. “Faster?”

Yu Caiqing took a step closer. Her movements were graceful, swaying like a willow in the wind.

“In the Five Elements, Wood generates Fire,” she murmured, her voice a sultry whisper. “Once the Fire Spirit Root is strengthened, it acts as a catalyst, forcing the Ice-Water Spirit Root to mutate at breakneck speed.”

Jiang Chen looked into her eyes. They were shimmering, wet and warm, a stark contrast to the blizzard outside. A captivating fragrance drifted from her robes—the scent of orchids blooming in winter.

His throat went dry. His heart hammered against his ribs.

It took him a long moment to process her meaning, to connect the dots between Wood, Fire, and the woman standing intimately close to him.

He finally managed to force two words past his parched lips.

“Dual Cultivation?”