The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Chapter 283: One Hundred Acres of Spirit Farm

If the semi-finals didn’t settle it, the finals would. If not the finals, then they’d find a way after the competition ended.

This feud wasn’t going to end peacefully.

Both Mo Sha and Long Ao radiated hostility, the air between them thick with the scent of gunpowder.

Before leaving the arena, Mo Sha turned back, a cruel smirk twisting his scarred face. “Don’t forget, Long Ao. That scar on your face? I put it there.”

Long Ao’s aura exploded, cold and lethal.

The surrounding disciples scrambled backward in fear. Jiang Chen, playing his part, dramatically retreated several meters to avoid the splash zone.

A Golden Core Perfected Master overseeing the matches cast a sharp, warning glare at the pair. Fighting here meant instant suppression, and they knew it.

Mo Sha chuckled, basking in his victory, and swaggered away.

Long Ao narrowed his eyes, tracking Mo Sha’s retreating back with a gaze like frozen daggers.

“Strange,” a disciple whispered. “We’re all from the same sect. Why does Mo Sha have to be so vicious?”

“Maybe that’s just his Dao.”

“Every cultivator walks their own path. Perhaps this ruthlessness is simply the difference between him and us.”

The crowd buzzed with speculation. Some felt the infighting was unnecessary; others saw it as the brutal reality of the cultivation world.

Seeing the show was over, Jiang Chen spoke up. “Senior Brother Long, I’ll be heading out.”

Long Ao turned, his expression unreadable. Then, he took a step forward.

“Do you still have that wine?” he asked, his voice low and serious.

Jiang Chen blinked, feigning confusion. “The Ice Heart Jade Pot Wine?”

Long Ao nodded. “Yes.”

Jiang Chen smiled slightly. “Depends on how much you need, Senior Brother. If you need a little, I have a little. If you need a lot… I have a lot.”

Long Ao’s eyes lit up. “I’ve thought about it. I need at least one hundred jin.”

Jiang Chen’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “One hundred? What are you planning to do with that much?”

Long Ao patted Jiang Chen’s shoulder, offering no explanation. “Just brew it. I’ll pay the Spirit Stones.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

Shui Wuhen stood frozen for a moment, glancing nervously between Jiang Chen and Long Ao’s retreating figure, before scrambling to catch up with his companion.

Watching them leave, Jiang Chen’s thoughts turned dark.

Water and Wood are mutually generating. But if he uses the wine to force his Water Spirit Root into an Ice Spirit Root… Ice and Wood clash. It becomes a mutually restraining cycle. Senior Brother Long, you’re walking a dangerous path.

Ling Chuan’s performance in the arena had been dazzling. The power of a Mutated Spirit Root was undeniable—it was no wonder they were granted instant formal disciple status. But artificial mutation came at a steep cost.

Cultivators with conflicting Spirit Roots, like Pei Mo and Jin Fugui, were living proof of the struggle. Their cultivation paths were arduous, often forcing them into unorthodox or even “evil” methods just to survive.

Still, everyone had the right to choose their own poison.

Jiang Chen liked Long Ao well enough, but he couldn’t live the man’s life for him. He could only wish him luck.

Leaving Fire Peak, Jiang Chen summoned his Giant Leaf artifact and flew back to his own Spirit Farm.

Home hadn’t changed much in the three days he’d been gone. The spirit plants were thriving, painting the fields in vibrant greens. Of course, the weeds had also thrived, choking the spaces between the crops.

“Woof!”

Da Huang, his yellow dog, bounded over with a fawning grin, tail wagging so hard his whole body shook. He rubbed against Jiang Chen’s leg, whining for attention.

The Pearl Chickens remained perched on high ground, looking down at the world with their usual aristocratic disdain.

Jiang Chen released the five Fire Crows from his gourd. “Go stretch your wings.”

He looked around the overgrown farm. “I need to get that Fortress puppet operational. Manual labor is getting tedious.”

Having a dedicated farming puppet would liberate him from daily chores like weeding and feeding the animals. He decided to prioritize studying puppetry as soon as he finished setting up his portable space.

For the next two hours, he fell into the rhythm of farm life—clearing weeds, cooking a meal, and checking the perimeter.

Just as he finally relaxed and prepared to inspect his new dimension, the Jade Green Gourd at his waist vibrated.

He pulled out a communication talisman. It was Jin Fugui.

“Old Jiang! I found some candidates. When are you free?”

“Candidates?”

“For Da Huang! Didn’t you want to breed him? I found several Senior Brothers and Sisters with female dogs. When can you come to Beast Mountain?”

Jiang Chen thought for a moment. “I’m free tomorrow morning.”

Today was for rest and exploration.

“Great,” Jin Fugui replied. “Come by tomorrow morning. Message me when you arrive.”

Jiang Chen cut the connection and looked down at Da Huang, who was currently sprawled out like a pressed duck on the porch.

“Looks like your lucky day is coming, buddy,” Jiang Chen chuckled.

He was genuinely curious. He had raised Da Huang for three years, feeding him Spirit Rice and scraps. The dog had grown from a palm-sized puppy into a calf-sized beast. What kind of offspring would he produce?

Shaking off the thought, Jiang Chen focused his mind.

Portable Space, open.

With a flicker, he vanished from the spot.

Da Huang blinked, staring at the empty space where his master had just been. He scrambled up, sniffing frantically at the air, then ran into the house to search. Finding nothing, he sat down and let out a confused, anxious whine.

Ying ying…

Jiang Chen materialized inside his portable space.

Previously, he had only sensed this place with his spiritual consciousness. Now, seeing it with his own eyes, he was stunned.

Warm light cascaded from the domed ceiling—not the harsh glare of noon, but the gentle, reddish-gold glow of a winter afternoon sun.

Rich Wood Spirit Qi drifted through the air like wisps of pale green mist, moving in slow, hypnotic currents until they hit the invisible barrier at the edge of the realm.

And beneath his feet lay an ocean of black soil.

It stretched as far as the eye could see—one hundred mu of pristine, Second-Grade Spirit Farm.

Compared to the soil outside, this earth was finer, denser, and shimmered with a moist, fertile luster.

Jiang Chen rubbed his hands together excitedly. “One hundred acres… If I plant this entire area, the resource yield will be astronomical. And the Lifespan harvested… incredible.”

But what to plant?

Mutated Spirit Rice? Definitely.

Medicinal herbs? Need to choose carefully.

Trees? The Time-Space Year Wheel Tree and the Spatial Earth Essence Fruit Tree must be transplanted here immediately.

There was no question about it.

First, the Earth Qi here was far more abundant than outside.

Second, the black soil was richer in nutrients.

Third, and most importantly: absolute secrecy.

Standing in his private kingdom, Jiang Chen felt a profound sense of satisfaction. He didn’t want to leave.

For a moment, Jiang Chen stood in the portable space, feeling somewhat reluctant to leave!