The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Chapter 249: Planting the Four Seasons Fruit Tree

Jiang Chen narrowed his eyes, voicing a lingering doubt. “Senior Brother, in all my time here, I’ve only ever seen Elder Mu and Li Chun. Where is the rest of the management?”

Chen Bo leaned on his hoe, breaking down the bureaucratic ladder. “Take the Rain Pavilion as an example. At the absolute pinnacle sits the Nascent Soul Pavilion Master, reverently called the Water Lord. Beneath him is the Talisman Chief, followed by the Manager, then the Rain Master, and finally the lowly Water Spirit Root disciples scratching at the dirt.”

“The Spirit Farm mirrors this structure. The Director of Cultivation stands at the top. Below him is the Grain Master, then the Manager, the Spirit Nurturing Envoy, and finally, us Wood Spirit Root disciples.”

This meant Elder Mu, despite his advanced age and imposing presence, merely occupied the middle rung of the core area’s management. Above him loomed the Grain Master and the Director of Cultivation. Jiang Chen had worked in the core sector for nearly five years; yet, whenever he visited the central palace, only Elder Mu and a handful of faceless clerks were present. Li Chun’s recent appearance was a rare anomaly.

“They have their own fields to tend,” Chen Bo stated, pointing out the obvious.

Jiang Chen opened his mouth, entirely unable to refute the logic.

“Elder Mu is more than capable of managing the day-to-day operations alone,” Chen Bo continued. “As for the Grain Master and Director of Cultivation, they reside high up in the Immortal Peaks. They rarely descend to mingle with us.”

“Makes sense,” Jiang Chen nodded. “So, what exactly is Li Chun’s role?”

Chen Bo smirked. “Process of elimination. If you exclude Elder Mu as the Manager, what does that leave?”

“He’s the Spirit Nurturing Envoy.”

“Exactly. A Spirit Nurturing Envoy oversees almost every plant across the entire Spirit Farm. It’s an easy gig. They only face real pressure during the final days of each season, where they report to the core office and occasionally patrol the outer borders.”

Jiang Chen waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t hold the title, so this means nothing to me. Besides, I’m not interested in climbing the ladder.”

“Some promotions,” Chen Bo warned, his tone darkening with implication, “cannot be refused just because you lack interest.”

Jiang Chen’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Like that idiot prince?”

Nothing in the sect was truly a coincidence. When a seemingly incompetent fool secured a permanent position on his first try, it wasn’t blind luck. Everyone was shrewd; they simply played the fool when it suited them.

The Zhao Clan and The Wang Clan possessed deep roots and vast networks within the core. If they wanted the Spirit Nurturing Envoy seat, they logically held a massive advantage over an independent farmer. Yet, Chen Bo seemed entirely confident in Jiang Chen’s chances. The political waters ran deep.

Whatever, Jiang Chen thought, shaking off the headache. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. He only wanted to hoard wealth and cultivate in peace. If they forced a promotion on him, he would adapt and extract the maximum benefit.

After parting ways, Jiang Chen summoned his Giant Leaf and soared toward the Spirit Farm’s outer perimeter. Summer brought a wave of familiarity; most of the current Outer Peak disciples had survived the grueling spring quarter and stayed on.

“Senior Brother Jiang!”

“He’s back! Senior Brother Jiang is here!”

“Please, look at my spirit rice, Senior Brother!”

The moment his boots hit the dirt, hundreds of eager Outer Peak disciples swarmed him.

Jiang Chen let a warm, flawlessly benevolent smile spread across his face. “Calm down, everyone. Speak up if you have an issue, I will help you all, one by one.” He projected the perfect image of an accessible, humble senior, silently calculating the favorability he was racking up.

A short distance away, Lin Ya leaned heavily against a wooden railing. She gritted her teeth, glaring at the adoring crowd. They were both formal disciples from the core area. Yet, he was worshipped like a deity, while she was entirely ignored.

Jealousy gnawed at her, distilling into a single, bitter thought: Why am I not the one standing by his side?

Days bled into a comfortable routine: cooking, tending chores, refining pills, mastering the Green Wood Fire Attraction Art, patrolling the borders, and sleeping.

One afternoon, while inspecting his Guardian Poplar, a memory surfaced. He had purchased a peculiar sapling at the Loose Cultivator market weeks ago.

With a flick of his wrist, he withdrew the prize from his Jade Green Gourd.

The Four Seasons Fruit Tree sapling was roughly the length of a man’s arm. Its bark naturally spiraled in four vibrant colors, perfectly capturing the essence of the year: spring’s azure green, summer’s fiery red, autumn’s golden yellow, and winter’s snowy white.

Its foliage was equally magical, shifting its physical properties with the climate. Spring brought translucent, tender buds. Summer deepened them to an emerald canopy. Autumn turned them to spun gold, and winter froze them into delicate silver ice crystals. It yielded a different fruit each season, each possessing unique alchemical properties. It was an incredibly rare prize, albeit a highly demanding one.

Jiang Chen scanned his property. Planting this gluttonous tree within the main Spirit Farm was suicide; it ruthlessly devoured all nutrients within a five-meter radius, choking out any competing flora. He needed an isolated spot.

His gaze landed on the fresh blast crater left behind by his shield test. The explosion had conveniently vaporized all surrounding weeds and rocks. It was the perfect planter.

Strolling over, he peered into the pit. Da Huang had evidently claimed the newly formed depression as a latrine, leaving behind several steaming piles.

Jiang Chen shrugged. Free fertilizer.

He planted the sapling directly into the crater, packing it tight with premium black soil transferred from his fifth acre. After a generous dousing of spirit spring water, he summoned his Companion Green Lotus.

Most farmers bled themselves dry pouring time and energy into cultivating a single rare plant. Jiang Chen, flush with resources and system backing, simply brute-forced it.

He flooded the roots with pure wood spiritual power. The results were instantaneous.

The sapling shuddered, eagerly devouring the energy. Driven by the intense summer heat, the fiery red veins in its bark flared like molten lava. Thick, deep green leaves erupted from the branches, thrumming with raw vitality.

In a matter of minutes, the arm-length sapling surged upward, expanding into a towering tree taller than Jiang Chen himself.

At this explosive rate, it would flower and bear fruit within days. The summer harvest would yield the Fire Flame Fruit—a potent, extreme-yang catalyst capable of refining high-tier pills and permanently boosting the consumer’s fire spiritual power.