The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Chapter 245: Water Curtain Technique

Mo Yu stood in the center of the ring, his expression as cold as a frozen lake. His lips moved in a rapid, rhythmic Mantra:

“Qi flows as breath, a curtain to guard the form. Ripples distort, shielding against the unseen swarm.”

The Water Spirit Qi within his meridians surged outward, condensing into a shimmering, translucent film in front of him. With a thrust of his palms, the curtain shattered into a dense, spreading fog. The mist rolled across the arena like a living tide, instantly swallowing the vibrant red glow of the opposing fire Qi.

In seconds, Li Mengyang was blind. The thick, damp fog didn’t just obscure his vision; it dampened his Spirit Sense, reducing his radar-like perception to a fuzzy, unreliable static. He could only guess at Mo Yu’s general direction.

“That’s the Water Curtain Technique!” a spectator gasped. “That’s one of the hardest high-tier techniques to master. Even the formal disciples of the Rain Pavilion struggle with it!”

“Mo Yu has always been a nobody,” another muttered. “Since when did he have this kind of skill?”

The crowd, particularly the Water Spirit Root disciples from the Rain Pavilion, watched in stunned silence. Techniques that required incantations were notoriously difficult, often serving as the gateway to true power. The Water Curtain Technique was deceptive; it sounded simple, but it was a foundational technique that could evolve into multiple forms. The “Mist Barrier” was just one application—a sensory deprivation tactic designed to cripple an opponent before the first strike landed.

Jiang Chen, Jin Fugui, and Chen Bo exchanged glances. They knew “Old Mo” better than anyone, yet even they were floored.

“I thought he spent all his time fishing,” Jin Fugui whispered. “When did he find time to become a monster?”

“He’s using his trump card early,” Jiang Chen noted, his eyes narrowing. “That means the pressure Li Mengyang is exerting is immense.”

Inside the mist, Mo Yu moved. He extended his right index finger and flicked it casually toward the center of the ring.

The ambient water vapor coalesced into silent, deadly arrows. Because they were formed from the mist itself, they made no sound as they cut through the air.

Li Mengyang, his senses dulled by the fog, didn’t react until the water was inches from his Face.

Pfft.

The first arrow struck him square in the chest. The impact sent a shudder through his frame, sliding him backward several meters across the stone tiles.

Panic flared in Li Mengyang’s eyes, but his combat instincts kicked in. A violent burst of orange light exploded from his skin, forming a combustion shield. The subsequent volley of water arrows slammed into the fire, hissing as they instantly evaporated into harmless steam.

Mo Yu fired again, but the arrows merely sizzled against the intense heat of the shield.

“I thought this would be an easy win,” Li Mengyang called out, his voice echoing from within the flames. A strange smile played on his lips. “You’ve given me a genuine surprise.”

Mo Yu didn’t respond. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the shimmering heat haze for a flaw in the defense.

“Silent type, hmm?” Li Mengyang’s voice dropped an octave. “It’s a pity. I have reasons why I cannot lose this match. So… I apologize in advance.”

The temperature in the arena spiked.

The air didn’t just get hot; it began to distort. The heat waves rolled off Li Mengyang in torrents, warping the view of the specially reinforced stone floor until it looked like melting wax.

Mo Yu reacted instantly. He pressed his index and middle fingers together into a sword-hand and roared, “Condense!”

The mist that saturated the arena—every droplet of suspended water—suddenly snapped toward Li Mengyang. A bone-deep chill exploded outward, clashing violently with the heat.

For a heartbeat, the right side of the arena froze. Li Mengyang, his fire shield, and the air around him were encased in a jagged prison of ice.

But the victory was short-lived.

CRACK.

The ice didn’t just melt; it shattered under a surge of crimson power. A long, sinuous vine, wreathed in living fire, slithered out from Li Mengyang’s sleeve. It was about two meters long and as thick as an infant’s arm, moving with the predatory intelligence of a viper.

“The Blazing Flame Vine,” Jiang Chen murmured, recognizing it instantly.

It was a Spirit Weapon worth at least 800 Mid-grade Spirit Stones. For a Foundation Establishment disciple, it was a weapon of mass destruction.

Mo Yu’s pupils contracted. “No wonder you were so confident.”

Li Mengyang panted heavily, the vine coiling protectively around him. “Your Water Curtain is versatile. Deadly. You’ve been setting up that freeze trap from the start. If I didn’t have this vine, I would have lost.”

Mo Yu stared at the burning vine for a moment, weighing his options. He had no Spirit Weapon. He relied entirely on his techniques, and his strongest kill-move had just been brute-forced by a superior wallet.

Continuing the fight would just be a waste of energy and time.

“I concede,” Mo Yu said flatly, dropping his stance.

“Winner, Li Mengyang! One point awarded!” the referee announced.

Mo Yu walked off the stage, his Face returning to its usual expression of bored indifference.

Jiang Chen and the others rushed to meet him. “Old Mo, are you alright?”

Mo Yu shrugged. “I thought I had it in the Storage Bag. Didn’t expect him to pull out a small fortune to beat me.”

“Can’t be helped,” Jiang Chen said, patting his shoulder. “An 800-stone Spirit Weapon is a hard wall to climb.”

“Great,” Jin Fugui sighed, throwing his hands up. “Now it’s just Senior Brother Chu and Senior Brother Chen left representing our circle.”

Jiang Chen turned to Chen Bo. “Senior Brother, when is your next match?”

“I made it to the semi-finals,” Chen Bo replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “So I have a break until next month.”

“Next month…” Jiang Chen nodded slowly. That’s enough time.

He wanted to craft a Spirit Weapon for Chen Bo. The Green Wood Needle Chen currently used was a decent novice tool, but in the semi-finals, everyone would be packing heat like Li Mengyang. If Chen Bo wanted to survive, let alone win, he needed an Advance. A weapon wasn’t just a tool; it was an extension of a cultivator’s cultivation.

The group chatted as they walked toward the edge of the Fire Peak district. Mo Yu peeled off first, muttering something about the fish biting better in the afternoon.

At the next fork, Jin Fugui departed for Beast Mountain, leaving Jiang Chen and Chen Bo sharing the Giant Leaf flying tool.

“Senior Brother,” Jiang Chen asked casually as the wind whipped past them, “do you prefer offensive or defensive Spirit Weapons?”

Chen Bo looked at him, surprised. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

Chen Bo thought for a moment. “I already have the Green Wood Needle for offense. If I had a choice, my second piece would definitely be defensive. I need balance.”

“The Green Wood Needle is only entry-level,” Jiang Chen mused aloud. “Its stopping power is limited against high-tier defenses.”

Chen Bo let out a self-deprecating laugh. “For someone like me, just having a Spirit Weapon is a luxury! I can’t afford to be picky.”

He sighed, looking out at the passing clouds. “Of course, I’d love something better. But Spirit Weapons are ruinously expensive. Unless you provide your own materials, the price floor is hundreds of Mid-grade Spirit Stones. If my cousin Chen Tian were here, maybe I could ask him for a favor, but he won’t be back in time.”

“True enough,” Jiang Chen agreed, nodding.

Internally, however, he had already begun to draft the blueprints.