The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Chapter 274: The Stone Cave

The squad had no intention of slaughtering the entire wolf pack. The moment the Wolf King fell, they snapped out of their shock and sprinted toward the safety of the hunter’s gathering place.

Jiang Chen swept his spiritual sense over the carcass. With a flicker of thought, the massive body of the Wolf King vanished, stored safely inside his Jade Green Gourd. Then, transforming into a streak of firelight, he accelerated, easily keeping pace with Red Tiger and the others.

Awoooo—

Behind them, the forest erupted in mournful, blood-curdling howls. The surviving Greenback Wolves watched the retreating cultivators with eyes burning with helpless, feral rage.

Ten li was a trivial distance for cultivators.

Minutes later, the dense canopy broke, revealing a vast clearing. Looming ahead was a stone cavern of titanic proportions, its maw gaping like the mouth of a leviathan.

“There!” Red Tiger shouted, pointing ahead. “The Fortress!”

This stone cavern had a dark history. It was originally the lair of the Nine-headed Blood Python. While not an apex calamity beast, the python had possessed a terrifying mastery over miasma and poison. It had claimed the lives of countless Loose Cultivators and wiped out at least three full veteran hunting squads.

Years ago, under the leadership of Green City’s Golden Core Perfected Master, Master Sen, a coalition of hunting teams had besieged the lair. It took a brutal battle to finally slay the thousand-year-old beast before it could ascend to true demonhood.

After the dust settled, cultivators discovered that the cavern possessed a unique geomancy that repelled the deadly Shadow Miasma of the Dark Forest. Over time, it naturally evolved into a sanctuary and trading hub for those brave enough to hunt in these woods.

Just before entering, Jiang Chen and Ling Mo glanced back.

The Dark Forest had fallen into a deathly silence. Then, from the deepest shadows, pinpricks of ghostly green light ignited. The Shadow Miasma began to rise, rolling forward like a tide of formless dread.

It moved with a sinister, semi-sentient purpose—sometimes surging like a tsunami, other times extending slender, smoky tentacles that twisted and grasped, seeking to drag anything they touched into a verdant abyss.

Jiang Chen, witnessing this for the first time, felt a chill crawl down his spine. Red Tiger hadn’t exaggerated; the night here was a different realm of horror entirely.

They scrambled into the safety of the stone cave.

The entrance was paved with the bleached bones of both beasts and humans—a grim reminder of the python that had once ruled here.

Three guards stood at the threshold, all male Loose Cultivators with stoic faces and sharp, probing eyes. They stopped Red Tiger’s group, demanding a full registration of identity before granting entry.

It was a necessary bureaucracy to prevent Evil Cultivators from infiltrating the sanctuary. Since the Shadow Miasma couldn’t breach the cave’s threshold, the mood inside was relatively calm, and Red Tiger’s team complied without complaint.

Inside, the cavern was surprisingly bright. Luminous Stones were embedded in the walls at regular intervals, casting a steady, white glow that banished the gloom.

After walking a hundred meters through a tunnel, the space opened up into a colossal underground plaza.

Dozens of tents stitched from tough beast hides were arranged in orderly rows. The cavern was a fully functioning underground city.

To the east stood a large bulletin board, plastered with bounty notices and team recruitment requests.

To the west lay a bustling trading zone enclosed by wooden fences. Loose Cultivators sat behind stalls, hawking Demon Beast inner cores, harvested materials, handcrafted Talismans, and forged weapons.

To the south was the consumption district, filled with the aroma of roasted meat and expensive wine. Jiang Chen’s eyes narrowed slightly—he spotted jugs of his own premium Spirit Wine being sold. Here, in the depths of the danger zone, the price had skyrocketed to 50 Low-grade Spirit Stones per jin. A scarce luxury indeed.

To the north lay a deep, dark pool. Beside it stood a moss-covered stone stele carved with two blood-red characters: Poison Abyss.

This was the lingering source of the Nine-headed Blood Python’s power. Even years after its death, the pool remained a reservoir of fatal toxicity. It was currently sealed behind layers of shimmering Talisman wards.

Jiang Chen swept the area with his spiritual sense. There were over a hundred cultivators present—mostly hardened hunters, mixed with a few thrill-seeking tourists heading for Huang Yuanhua’s estate.

While the night outside was a death trap, the cave was alive with noise and light. Groups gathered in circles, drinking, boasting, and gambling away their earnings.

Red Tiger let out a long breath, the tension leaving his shoulders. “As long as you follow the rules, you’re safe here,” he told the group. “Find a place to rest, or check out the market. If you have the coin, the food stalls aren’t bad.”

His team dispersed immediately. Some collapsed into empty spots to meditate; others headed straight for the wine stalls.

Jiang Chen remained standing, his eyes hidden behind his mask, observing everything. Ling Mo and the other tourists, eager to see the exotic goods of the Dark Forest, made a beeline for the trading zone.

Red Tiger approached Jiang Chen, flanked by his deputy, Zhang Laizi, and the female member, Zhou Cui.

“Fellow Daoist Zhu,” Red Tiger said, his voice thick with genuine respect. “Thank you. You saved my team back there.”

Zhou Cui stepped forward, her eyes shimmering with blatant interest. She bit her lip, looking up at him. “Fellow Daoist Zhu, I really can’t thank you enough. Here is my Communication Talisman. Perhaps we could… deepen our acquaintance privately?”

Her calculation was transparent. She had initially dismissed “Zhu Rong” as a fanatical cosplayer. But after seeing him vaporize a five-hundred-year-old Wolf King with a single finger, she realized he was a hidden powerhouse—likely far stronger than her own captain. Securing a Dao Companion of his caliber would mean an end to risking her life in the mud and blood for scraps.

Jiang Chen ignored the talisman.

Beside her, Zhang Laizi was far more pragmatic. He pulled a red crystal from his Storage Bag. “I noticed you keep Fire Crows. This Fire Spirit Crystal should be good for them.”

The crystal was small, barely the size of a fingernail, but it pulsed with concentrated heat—the essence of condensed fire Spirit Qi. Its market value was at least 60 Low-grade Spirit Stones.

Jiang Chen took the crystal. “I thank you on behalf of Crow One.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Zhou Cui holding her talisman in the air, her expression crumbling into disappointment.

Jiang Chen found a quiet corner near the wall and leaned back, appearing to rest. In reality, he was using the shared vision of his crows to scan the room.

His gaze stopped at the northern edge of the plaza.

“Standing that close to the poison source… he’s courting death,” Jiang Chen mused.

Through the eyes of Crow One, he zoomed in on the figure standing dangerously close to the sealed Poison Abyss.

It was a man named Li Chuan.

He was a mountain of a human—a moving iron fortress nearly nine feet tall. His shoulders were as wide as a doorframe, and the veins on his arms bulged like coiled dragons.

Yet, his face defied his brutish physique. Beneath sharp, sword-like eyebrows lay a pair of charming “peach blossom” eyes with upturned corners—features that belonged on a scholar or a playboy, not a tank.

But right now, those eyes held no charm. They were pools of endless, suffocating hatred.

He stared into the sealed abyss, muttering incessantly to himself, his voice a broken loop of despair.

“Try again… have to try again…”