The Eternal Farmer: I Trade My Harvest for Immortality

Chapter 292: Omen of the Inner Demon

It had to be said, the horrific discovery beneath his Spirit Farm left Jiang Chen profoundly disturbed.

For the first time since arriving in the Azure Realm, a deep, gnawing wariness regarding his immediate surroundings took root in his mind.

After a long moment of hyper-rational calculation, he tossed the mysterious, life-rich chunk of charcoal into a spare Storage Bag, securely tying the knot and sealing it shut. This way, if the object possessed some insidious, unseen connection to the outside world, the isolated dimensional space of the bag would completely sever the link.

Taking a slow, steadying breath, Jiang Chen sank his consciousness back into the earth Qi, casting his seismic perception outward like a fine net. He scoured the bedrock inch by agonizing inch. Fortunately, his sweep came up empty.

For now, it appeared that the single, charred corpse was the only anomaly buried beneath the rocky hill.

Satisfied, Jiang Chen didn’t linger. He leaped out of the ten-meter crater and immediately channeled his Earth Qi. The displaced black soil surged back into place, forcefully packing itself down until the excavation site was completely erased, leaving the ground looking exactly as it had before.

Once the cover-up was complete, he turned on his heel and walked away. He didn’t want to spend another second near that spot.

Stepping out of the cavern and into the night air, Jiang Chen cast a final glance back at the rocky hill. His eyes held a mixture of deep apprehension and cold, pragmatic resolve.

He made his decision right then and there. He would absolutely never utilize this rocky hill. He wouldn’t till the black soil within, and he certainly wouldn’t plant any spirit crops here. He would let the cavern rot in total abandonment, just as it had for years.

It was the only logical choice.

Externally, he already managed five acres of second-grade Spirit Farms, and that number was soon to increase to six. Internally, his personal, dimensional space contained a staggering one hundred acres of pristine, second-grade soil. Combined, it was more than enough premium land to sustain his cultivation and wealth for a lifetime. He didn’t need to risk his life over one cursed patch of dirt.

Yet, logic couldn’t banish the visceral horror.

The rocky hill, the blackened mummy, the squelching tentacles—they clung to his psyche like a greasy shadow. As much as he tried to compartmentalize and ignore the memory, it persistently gnawed at the edges of his mind.

Later that night, Jiang Chen violently jolted awake, his heart hammering against his ribs. The residual image of the blackened corpse flashed behind his eyelids. The fetal posture, the metallic sheen, the writhing black tendrils—every grotesque detail was seared into his brain with terrifying clarity.

“If I don’t resolve this psychological lingering,” he muttered, wiping cold sweat from his brow, “it’s going to fester into an Inner Demon. That would be disastrous.”

It was the hour of Yin—roughly three in the morning.

Jiang Chen, who usually slept like the dead until dawn, was hopelessly awake, tossing and turning. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind inevitably drifted back to the cursed hill, and he found his hand subconsciously reaching for the Storage Bag holding the charcoal lump.

This remote, supposedly peaceful Spirit Farm absolutely harbored a dark, undisclosed history.

When he first secured the isolated plot, he thought he had struck gold—a quiet place where he could farm and cultivate his secrets in total peace. Looking back, that assumption was incredibly naive. Almost laughable.

Jiang Chen narrowed his eyes in the dark. Tomorrow. At first light, I’m visiting Senior Brother Zhu.

If anyone knew the true, buried history of this land, it was Zhu Fuxian. According to the eccentric bamboo farmer, the previous owner of Jiang Chen’s plot had been a close, personal friend. The two used to drink together constantly, sharing agricultural theories and local gossip.

Realizing sleep was a lost cause, Jiang Chen willed himself away.

With a subtle shift in reality, he vanished from his bedroom, instantly reappearing within the absolute safety of his personal dimensional space, hovering gently above the rich, black soil.

His private sanctuary currently housed several extraordinary assets:

The Cradle Ice Embryo (The mutated Frost Cabbage).

The Space-Time Annual Ring Tree.

The Space Earth Essence Fruit Tree.

The Erosion Earth Brown Awn Mutant Rice.

The crown jewels of his collection were undoubtedly the two trees.

The Space-Time Annual Ring Tree was a miracle of nature. It bore four distinct types of fruit—Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter—each possessing unique, potent effects. Furthermore, on the first and fifteenth of every lunar month, as well as on major solar terms, the tree passively exhaled a massive aura of seasonal energy, permanently doubling the growth speed and overall yield of every spirit plant in its vicinity.

The Space Earth Essence Fruit Tree was even more absurd. The fruits it produced could be refined to create entirely new, stable dimensional spaces. More shockingly, consuming the raw fruit granted the cultivator a chance to Awaken the legendary, space-bending supernatural ability: Shrinking the Earth to an Inch.

Just these two mutated, ultra-rare plants were utterly priceless. They simply did not exist on the open market. To put it bluntly, no amount of Spirit Stones could buy them. Anyone lucky enough to stumble upon such heaven-defying treasures would hide them away in absolute secrecy.

No cultivator was foolish enough to ignore the ancient truth: Possessing a jade ring is a crime for an innocent man. Wealth invites slaughter.

Despite the vast, hundred-acre space feeling somewhat empty with only a handful of plants, gazing upon his hidden empire filled Jiang Chen with a profound, grounding sense of satisfaction.

He drifted over to the Cradle Ice Embryo.

Separated from the malignant influence of the blackened corpse, the terrifying Yin aura the mutated cabbage emitted had weakened significantly. Fortunately, the ambient Earth Qi within his personal space was incredibly pure, and the soil was bursting with rich, uncontaminated nutrients.

Since being transplanted, the embryo hadn’t degraded. In fact, it had grown larger, looking more and more like a massive, translucent ice egg, as if preparing to hatch something entirely new.

Jiang Chen gave a slow, approving nod. “I won’t pry it open this time. It doesn’t matter what’s inside. This space is my absolute domain; whatever hatches, I can crush it instantly with the raw dimensional power of this realm.”

Seeking true peace, he walked over to the towering Space-Time Annual Ring Tree. Not caring about the dirt, he slumped down against its massive trunk, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

Only here, surrounded by his absolute secrets, could he finally find rest.

Dawn broke, washing the Azure Realm in golden light.

After completing his morning chores, Jiang Chen prepared to visit Senior Brother Zhu. Knowing the man’s profound love for alcohol, Jiang Chen specifically packed ten pounds of his Top-quality Spirit Wine. Deciding that might not be enough of a bribe for the information he needed, he added a precious, one-pound flask of Top Grade Ice Heart Jade Pot Wine.

Stepping into the courtyard, he summoned his Giant Leaf and shot into the sky.

Below, Da Huang barked enthusiastically, attempting to chase his master’s shadow. But mortal legs could never outpace a flying artifact. While Jiang Chen enjoyed an unobstructed, straight-line flight path through the sky, the poor hound was quickly stymied by thickets, boulders, and ravines. Realizing the futility of the chase, Da Huang eventually huffed and trotted back to his food bowl.

Up in the air, Jiang Chen seamlessly cycled his cultivation. Wood generates Fire. Fire generates Earth. The tri-elemental synergy flooded the Giant Leaf with explosive power.

The artifact surged forward as if it had swallowed a premium speed pill, tearing through the sky and cutting his travel time in half.

He soon touched down at the periphery of Zhu Fuxian’s bamboo forest. The serene landscape hadn’t changed a bit since his last visit. The same neat Spirit Farms, the same towering, ten-meter-tall emerald bamboos in the distance. The entire area hummed with lush, vibrant vitality.

“Senior Brother Zhu!” Jiang Chen called out over the wicker gate.

A moment later, a blur of green light flashed, and Zhu Fuxian materialized before him, moving with his usual, effortless grace.

Jiang Chen immediately clasped his hands and bowed deeply. “Senior Brother.”

Zhu Fuxian didn’t return the greeting immediately. Instead, his sharp eyes swept up and down Jiang Chen’s form. He frowned slightly. “Junior Brother… something is off about you.”

Without waiting for an explanation, Zhu Fuxian unlatched the wicker gate. “Come inside. Let’s talk properly.”

Though slightly startled by the immediate read, Jiang Chen maintained his calm, pragmatic outward demeanor and stepped onto the property.

A short walk brought them to the breezy, open-air second floor of the bamboo house. The elevated view of the swaying forest was breathtaking, designed specifically to calm the mind and soothe the spirit.

Surprisingly, Zhu Fuxian didn’t immediately reach for his wine gourds. Instead, he carefully brewed and poured a cup of fragrant, pale-green bamboo leaf tea.

“Drink,” Zhu Fuxian urged gently. “Now tell me, Junior Brother. It hasn’t been that long since I last saw you, yet your spiritual aura is deeply unsettled. You look exhausted.”

Jiang Chen picked up the teacup and took a slow sip. The warm liquid carried a profound, stabilizing energy that instantly washed away his residual anxiety, calming his frayed nerves.

Setting the cup down, he met the older man’s eyes. “Senior Brother’s perception is flawless. The truth is, recently… whenever I try to sleep, I am plagued by visceral nightmares of a charred, blackened corpse. I jolt awake in a cold sweat every time.”

Jiang Chen leaned forward, masking his true knowledge with a carefully constructed, tentative theory. “I came to ask… is it possible that the feng shui of my assigned house is cursed?”

Zhu Fuxian’s expression turned deeply serious, his eyes gleaming with a knowing, heavy shadow. “Rather than blaming the feng shui of the house, Junior Brother… it would be more accurate to blame the land itself.”