The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Listening to the chaotic string of titles tumbling from Lin An’s mouth—Master, Shopkeeper, Senior Brother—Jiang Chen couldn’t help but feel the kid had been thoroughly broken by that Primary Alchemist in the Earthfire Zone.

He cut him off with a strange expression. “Just call me Senior Brother.”

Jiang Chen reached into his storage and flicked a glowing stone through the air. “Get yourself cleaned up. Handle your logistics quickly.”

Lin An caught the object. When he realized it was a Mid-grade Spirit Stone, his breath hitched. His chest heaved as he stared at the gem, his hands trembling.

“I slaved away in the Earthfire Zone for two years,” Lin An choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t earn a single Low-grade stone. I never imagined… to receive a Mid-grade stone the moment I came back…”

Jiang Chen patted him on the shoulder, his touch firm and grounding. “Stick with me. As long as I have meat to eat, you won’t go hungry.”

Tears welled up in Lin An’s eyes again. He nodded vigorously, unable to speak.

His journey had been wretched. Despite awakening a Wood Spirit Root, his talent for agriculture was mediocre at best. He had barely scraped through the promotion exams by relying on friends with Earth and Water roots. Then came the debt, the arrest by the Punishment Hall, and two years of torture as a human battery for a sadistic alchemist.

Upon his release, he had sought help from old acquaintances. They had either slammed their doors in his face or pretended he didn’t exist.

In the end, only Jiang Chen—the man he had once helped—extended a hand to pull him out of the abyss.

After calming down and finishing a cup of Orchid Mist Tea, Lin An stood up to leave. He had escaped his living hell, but his life was still a mess.

Now that he had signed the Blood Oath Contract, he needed to be within calling range. He couldn’t return to his old shack. He had to move his residence, swap his Spirit Farm deed, and update his registration with the sect. It was a mountain of paperwork.

Jiang Chen packed away the tea set and stepped out of the stone house. He summoned the Giant Leaf, and the artifact swept him into the sky.

There was only one person left to visit: Senior Brother Zhu.

Once this social call was done, he could finally lock his doors and enjoy his wealth in peace.

Thirty minutes later, Jiang Chen approached Zhu Fuxian’s Spirit Farm.

As he descended, he noticed Zhu Fuxian standing at the gate. He wasn’t alone; a figure draped in a heavy black cloak stood beside him, face obscured by shadows.

Jiang Chen landed and cupped his hands. “Happy New Year, Senior Brother Zhu!”

Zhu Fuxian offered a warm smile. “Happy New Year, Junior Brother Jiang!”

The cloaked figure turned slightly. A voice, rasping and indistinct, emerged from the hood. “Since you have a guest, I will take my leave. Do not forget our arrangement.”

Zhu Fuxian nodded. “I will handle it.”

In the next second, the cloaked figure dissolved into a swirl of black mist. The dark vapor shot toward the horizon with terrifying speed, vanishing into the gray winter sky in the blink of an eye.

Jiang Chen watched the departure with narrowed eyes. Curious, but he knew better than to pry.

“Come in, Junior Brother,” Zhu Fuxian beckoned.

“If I’m interrupting, I can come back another time,” Jiang Chen said politely as he followed him toward the bamboo house.

Zhu Fuxian waved a dismissive hand. “Not at all. That was a resident alchemist from the Pill Tower. We’ve collaborated for over a decade. He just dropped off some seeds for a new batch of herbs; I need to get them settled in the storage array first.”

Inside, Zhu Fuxian brewed a pot of bamboo leaf tea and excused himself into the side room.

Jiang Chen sat by the window, sipping the tea and waiting patiently.

Outside, the north wind howled, sweeping jade-like snowflakes across the fields. Frost flowers clung to the bamboo leaves, shivering and falling in the gusts. The world was silent, stark, and devastatingly beautiful.

About half an hour later, Zhu Fuxian hurried out, looking apologetic. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Jiang Chen took a slow sip of tea, gesturing to the window. “I could stare at Senior Brother’s snowscape forever. It never gets old.”

Zhu Fuxian beamed, his chest puffing out slightly. “The only reason I built my house on this specific plot was for the winter view. It’s mesmerizing.”

Jiang Chen gave a thumbs-up. “Senior Brother has impeccable taste.”

Zhu Fuxian sat down across from him. He cleared away the tea set and replaced it with a ceramic wine warmer and a small stove. “On a snowy day like this, tea is too thin. Warmed wine is the only way to do it justice.”

Hearing the word ‘wine,’ Jiang Chen snapped to attention. He tapped his Jade Green Gourd, and a heavy jar materialized on the table.

“I almost forgot. My New Year’s gift to you. Ten jin of my private stock.”

Zhu Fuxian’s eyes widened. “Is this… the Spirit Rice Wine you brewed?”

“It is.”

Zhu Fuxian immediately snatched the jar, cradling it like a treasure. “Well then! We certainly won’t be drinking my swill today.”

He had to admit defeat. In the art of brewing, he wasn’t fit to tie Jiang Chen’s shoelaces. Jiang Chen’s wine was superior in every metric—purity, mouthfeel, and aftertaste. Since tasting it once before, Zhu Fuxian had tried to replicate it countless times, but his attempts always fell short. He had been craving this specific taste for months.

Socializing with others usually required constant, draining conversation. But with Zhu Fuxian, the dynamic was different.

They spoke sparingly.

Most of the time, they simply watched the blue flame lick the bottom of the wine warmer, listening to the wind and the snow. It was a comfortable silence—the definition of leisure.

Jiang Chen took a sip of the heated wine. His eyes lit up.

Compared to drinking it cold, the warmed wine was a revelation. It lost its sharp edge, becoming rounder, smoother. It coated his tongue like hot honey, the spiritual energy blooming warmly in his stomach rather than exploding.

It was a completely different experience.

Suddenly, Zhu Fuxian broke the silence. “Junior Brother Jiang, I just remembered something.”

“Hmm?” Jiang Chen turned, raising an eyebrow.

“That alchemist friend of mine… he’s organizing a ‘Medicine Garden Exchange Gathering’ soon. The attendees are all Alchemists or Foundation Establishment Spirit Farmers. You should come with me.”

Jiang Chen paused. He probed gently, “This friend… his name wouldn’t happen to be Nether Spring, would it?”

Zhu Fuxian froze, then laughed. “You know him?”

Jiang Chen sighed internally. It truly is a small world.

He already had an entry talisman for the Nether Spring Medicine Garden, gifted to him by Wang Ze. But Zhu Fuxian clearly wanted to do him a favor by inviting him.

Bringing out his own ticket now would only steal Zhu Fuxian’s thunder and make the man feel awkward. Jiang Chen wasn’t socially inept enough to ruin the mood.

He cupped his hands, feigning gratitude. “Then I will have to trouble Senior Brother Zhu to make the introductions.”

Zhu Fuxian looked delighted. He eagerly promised to introduce Jiang Chen to Nether Spring personally.

The two continued to drink, chat, and watch the snow.

Time slipped away unnoticed.

By late afternoon, the light outside began to fade. Jiang Chen, feeling a pleasant buzz, stood up to take his leave. “Senior Brother, let’s call it a day.”

Zhu Fuxian was already half-slumped against the table, his eyes hazy. “Alright… next time… we drink until we drop.”

Jiang Chen quickly exited the bamboo house. He summoned his Giant Leaf and shot into the sky, heading home.

Inside the house, Zhu Fuxian continued to sip his warm wine, staring blankly at the snow. Eventually, the alcohol won. He slid off his chair and sprawled onto the floor, snoring loudly, completely carefree and without a worry in the world.