Steward Wang?

Han Yu’s heart sank the moment he heard the name fall from Wei Kunyi’s lips.

Was she merely using Steward Wang’s name to intimidate him, or was the Steward genuinely involved?

If it was the former, he could handle it. But if it was the latter… wouldn’t that mean Han Yu was doomed to be targeted regardless of whether he borrowed the spirit rice or submitted to their exploitation?

Han Yu pondered this silently, watching Wei Kunyi’s next move.

She stood before the Old Daoist’s door and raised her hand to knock. “Junior Brother Li? Junior Brother Li?”

“What is it?” A voice replied from within.

“It is regarding the harvest of the Green Grain Spirit Rice…”

“I have already retired. We will talk tomorrow,” the Old Daoist answered coldly.

“Junior Brother Li, I am only thinking of your best interests…”

The Old Daoist’s voice turned icy. “No need. Please leave.”

“Junior Brother Li?” Wei Kunyi called out twice more. Finally, she stomped her foot in frustration and turned to leave.

However, she did not head toward Steward Wang’s residence, nor back to her own. Instead, she walked toward the stone hut belonging to Lu Yun—that eccentric oddball addicted to self-pleasure.

Han Yu waited quietly.

Moments later, a startled shriek echoed from the distance: “How can you be so disgusting!”

Wei Kunyi fled back to her own dwelling in disarray.

Han Yu had felt heavy-hearted a moment ago, worrying about offending Steward Wang, but hearing Wei Kunyi’s scream at Lu Yun’s place made him chuckle involuntarily.

That eccentric Senior Brother Lu was truly a bizarre existence. He was completely out of sync with the other Laborer Disciples who farmed and cultivated with such diligence. It was as if the sect and the spirit fields were mere external distractions, and his own self-indulgence was the only thing that mattered.

Wei Kunyi, usually so thorough and capable of exchanging pleasantries with anyone, had finally met her match. Faced with a freak like Lu Yun, even she couldn’t maintain her composed, smiling facade.

Early the next morning, the spiritual fog within Han Yu and the Old Daoist’s fields had gradually dispersed.

The ears of the Green Grain Spirit Rice hung low, heavy and ripe, emitting a faint, shimmering luminescence.

Han Yu and the Old Daoist began harvesting the ears. As for the stalks, they would be slowly cut and uprooted only after the spirit rice was safely collected.

The Outer Disciple surnamed Hua arrived to supervise the harvest for the three of them—Han Yu, the Old Daoist, and Lu Yun.

He was extremely cold toward the Old Daoist, offering not a single word, only watching with a frosty gaze.

Toward Han Yu, however, his attitude was markedly different. Since Han Yu was a Laborer Disciple who had already achieved the first level of Qi Refining, Hua spoke amiably, encouraging him to cultivate hard and strive to enter the Outer Sect within ten years.

As for Lu Yun, Outer Disciple Hua went over to check on him once. Immediately, the sounds of scolding and beating erupted, provoking waves of laughter from the nearby Laborer Disciples.

They toiled from morning until afternoon.

The Green Grain Spirit Rice ears from all five acres of spirit fields were finally harvested. With a gentle rub, the spirit rice tumbled easily from the husks; unlike mortal rice, it required little effort to thresh.

Han Yu was busy hulling his spirit rice at the entrance of his stone hut when Steward Wang appeared.

Steward Wang walked slowly from his residence, his massive belly protruding, with Wei Kunyi trailing behind him. His obesity forced his eyes into permanent squints, making it impossible to read his expression.

“Ahem. Junior Brother Hua, thank you for your trouble.”

“Senior Brother Wang,” Outer Disciple Hua responded with a nod.

“Go and rest. I will handle the recording for this harvest,” Steward Wang said.

Outer Disciple Hua looked surprised. “This harvest only involves three Laborer Disciples. If Senior Brother doesn’t mind such a trivial task…”

“It’s fine. I’ll handle it.”

Steward Wang repeated himself. Outer Disciple Hua seemed to realize something; he glanced thoughtfully at Han Yu and the Old Daoist before taking his leave.

Once Hua was gone, Steward Wang let out a cold laugh. He walked straight to the pile of spirit rice harvested by the Old Daoist.

He cast a contemptuous glance at the figure in the bamboo hat, who looked more like an old peasant than a cultivator.

“Old Coot, I hear you have quite a few complaints about me?”

The Old Daoist remained silent. He stepped aside, creating space for the inspection.

Steward Wang stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring at him quietly. Suddenly, he sneered. “No need to look. Twenty-nine catties per acre. Insufficient. You are short of thirty. You shall be punished.”

The Old Daoist abruptly raised his head, staring at Steward Wang.

Steward Wang smirked. “What? You disagree?”

“With your age, and with your aptitude—barely able to touch the threshold of Qi Refining—are you worthy of questioning me?”

The Old Daoist gave Steward Wang a cold look, turned around, and entered his hut. He emerged holding a small, square wooden measure. having visited the Green Grain Market many times to trade with mortals, he had acquired his own tools.

“Steward Wang, I want to weigh it myself. This peck holds exactly twenty catties—”

Steward Wang sneered again. “Your own measure doesn’t count!”

As the words left his mouth, his hand formed a seal. A streak of azure light shot forth, accompanied by the howling of wind.

Crack!

The force sliced clean through the wooden measure in the Old Daoist’s hands.

Half of the box fell to the ground with a clatter; the other half remained in the Old Daoist’s grip.

Steward Wang smiled triumphantly. “Well? Do you still want to weigh it yourself?”

The Old Daoist stared deeply at Steward Wang and Wei Kunyi. He pursed his lips tightly, then lowered his head, his voice raspy and hoarse. “I will not weigh it myself. But I ask Steward Wang to withhold punishment. Can you simply record the yield as thirty catties per acre?”

Seeing him submit, Steward Wang’s smile widened. His eyes, already narrow slits, vanished completely into the folds of his fat face.

“Thirty catties per acre? But didn’t you only produce twenty-nine? How can I possibly falsify the records?”

The Old Daoist kept his head bowed, his back bent as if crushed by fate. “I can… borrow from Senior Sister Wei’s spirit rice to make up the difference…”

“Ahem, well, that is none of my business!” Steward Wang turned his back, swept up the Old Daoist’s spirit rice, and began walking toward Han Yu. “Whatever you need to discuss, handle it amongst yourselves.”

Wei Kunyi walked toward the Old Daoist, her face beaming. “Junior Brother Li, if you had just been this reasonable earlier, wouldn’t everything be fine? I’ll lend you five catties of spirit rice. Next season, you return ten. Understood?”

The Old Daoist raised his eyes. They were shot through with red veins, looking somewhat terrifying.

“Senior Sister Wei, a few days ago, my field gathered spiritual energy and I allowed you to use it for cultivation. Could you not show a little mercy on account of that?”

Wei Kunyi’s face instantly hardened, her eyes filled with arrogance. “You weren’t willing to cultivate anyway. Do you think you did me some great favor?”

“You can barely step onto the path of cultivation in this lifetime. What qualifications do you have to bargain with me?”

The Old Daoist listened, lowering his head once more. The chill in his bloodshot eyes deepened.

“Senior Sister Wei’s lesson is correct. However, this Junior Brother also wishes to strive and better himself. I wonder… could you lend me a bit more spirit rice?”

“Now that’s the spirit!” Wei Kunyi twisted her waist, her smile blooming like a flower, exuding a heavy air of coquettishness. “Junior Brother Li, I can lend you a maximum of fifteen catties. Next season, you return twenty-five. How about it?”

“And if I cannot repay it next season?”

“Then it becomes Snowballing Interest, and we recalculate! We are fellow disciples, after all. I won’t let Junior Brother Li suffer a loss, and surely Junior Brother Li won’t let me lose my capital, right?”

Wei Kunyi’s voice carried a distinct note of smugness. With Steward Wang present, she had absolutely no fear that a lowly Laborer Disciple would dare default on a debt.

The Old Daoist kept his head down. His throat bobbed slightly, as if he were swallowing something bitter.

“Yes, Senior Sister Wei.”

With the deal struck, Wei Kunyi promised to send the spirit rice over shortly. She then turned and sashayed toward where Steward Wang and Han Yu were standing.

By this time, Steward Wang and Han Yu had already exchanged a few words.