Great Heat—the hottest day of summer—arrived like an opened floodgate, unleashing torrents of scorching sunlight upon everything below.

Flowers wilted under the intensity, while wild grasses drooped listlessly. Even the leaves on the trees hung limp, finding no respite from dawn until dusk. This heatwave affected all vegetation, including the Spirit Rice fields where stalks stood parched beneath the relentless rays. The patches containing Spirit Clover, along with the rows of watermelons and cabbages, were all baking dry throughout the daylight hours.

The only exception was the mutant strain growing sheltered beneath the Stone Mountain. It remained unchanged, perhaps due to the superior resilience inherent within it, or simply the lack of direct exposure.

Fortunately, arrangements had been made beforehand. Lin Yu was scheduled to come and cast the Minor Rain Spell over the fields today. Just as a precaution against forgetfulness, a reminder sent via communication talisman that morning had confirmed she was indeed en route to the Spirit Farm area presently.

“Once Great Heat passes, the second quarter enters the countdown phase, meaning the harvest is imminent within days,” mused Jiang Chen, wearing a straw hat while observing his crops from the edge of the ridge.

He was watching more attentively than usual. Despite his previous casualness, the transition of seasons demanded extra vigilance.

Soon enough, a distant speck resolved into a Paper Crane bearing a rider. It was unmistakably Lin Yu, given the remote location.

“Fellow Daoist Lin,” greeted Jiang Chen, smiling warmly.

She looked surprised. “Fellow Daoist Jiang, you’re waiting outside specifically for me despite the heat?”

Shrugging, he explained, “I’m not just waiting for you. It’s actually my first time experiencing Great Heat personally, so I can’t afford to be complacent. I must monitor the plants constantly to prevent mishaps.”

Nodding understandingly, she dismounted the Paper Crane and stated bluntly, “Then let’s not waste time. I’ll finish here quickly; I need to return promptly afterward.”

Immediately, she cast the Minor Rain Spell.

However, the efficiency was noticeably lower compared to prior occasions. The droplets at the edges evaporated almost the instant they touched the ground under the intense sunlight. After several adjustments, she finally managed to coalesce a faintly darkened cloud mass.

Soon, the sound of pattering rainfall filled the vicinity. The temperature dropped, bringing a welcome coolness that permeated the air, instantly relieving the parched sensation—akin to gulping cold water after a prolonged thirst.

Prompted by her earlier urgency, Jiang Chen approached casually to inquire, “In such a hurry to return home? Are there matters requiring attention?”

Lin Yu answered, “With over a year remaining until the Formal Disciple Competition, disciples from various departments—including Rain Pavilion, Forging Peak, Alchemy Hall, Spirit Farm, Earth Vein, Beast Mountain, Wind Cliff, Thunder Woods, and so on—are currently returning from missions en masse. Therefore, my father ordered me to produce more spirit talismans to sell for good prices later.”

“But it’s still over a year away, right?” Jiang Chen exclaimed, puzzled. Since he wasn’t participating in the competition, he couldn’t quite comprehend the urgency.

Lin Yu chuckled lightly. “These long-absent formal disciples have surely accumulated substantial Spirit Stones and scarce items within their storage pouches. Since they are preparing to compete, they definitely need to enhance their strength, particularly those transitioning from the late Qi Condensation stage to the early Foundation Establishment stage. They require heavy resources.”

Jiang Chen wasn’t stupid; he immediately grasped the implication.

He reminded himself of his own situation: currently holding over two thousand jin of Tier-2 Spirit Rice, plus an upcoming harvest yielding a minimum of another two thousand jin. If indeed, as Lin Yu described, those returnees needed resources, they would certainly need such goods.

Although individuals couldn’t compare to massive entities like the Harvest Alliance, nor compete for market share properly, he might still sip some broth, if not feast on the meat. Besides, he possessed a trump card: the Spirit Wine, which was universally praised by anyone who had tasted it before.

After a while, the Minor Rain Spell concluded.

Lin Yu boarded her Paper Crane, announcing, “According to our agreement, this is the third rainfall. Any subsequent needs will require a new arrangement.”

Smiling, she added, “I’ll be heading back now.”

Controlling the Paper Crane, she departed toward the Rain Pavilion.

Watching her fading silhouette, Jiang Chen pondered, As the number of returning formal disciples increases, the Red Leaf Valley market will likely open earlier accordingly. Instead of just selling Spirit Rice, selling Tier-2 Spirit Wine alone could earn considerable Spirit Stones, or even allow me to exchange for various scarce items.

Finishing his contemplation, he redirected his attention to the fields. Indeed, after the spiritual rain, the plants had plumped up again. The only regret was that none had mutated whatsoever; the sole difference was an increased yield compared to usual.

The following days were spent brewing Tier-2 Spirit Wine while awaiting the harvest.

As for Jin Fugui and Mo Yu’s venture to Black Pool, he pushed that matter to the back of his mind. After all, it was unrelated to him personally; regardless of the outcome, it would be borne solely by Jin Fugui himself.

Time flew, finally reaching harvest day.

Gazing upon the plump grains filling the Spirit Rice stalks, an inexplicable satisfaction surged within him, akin to an old father beholding his long-awaited son.

He immediately circulated the Evergreen Art, perceiving the gains. Seemingly, a mere five hundred jin increase actually represented the limit for “top-grade Spirit Rice” production. Further expansion required either incorporating mutant strains or expanding his farmland by another mu or two.

Unfortunately, Jiang Chen hadn’t reached the Foundation Establishment stage. Moreover, even if he were qualified, he wouldn’t disclose it, preferring to keep a low profile for several years to match the majority’s average level.

In fact, ordinary Spirit Farmers seldom faced such dilemmas. Even those achieving Foundation Establishment typically yielded only two or three thousand jin per mu. Individuals like Jiang Chen, nearing the limit within their first year, were virtually nonexistent.

It was perhaps a bittersweet paradox indeed.

Next, picking up his daily spiritual tool, the sickle, he commenced harvesting diligently.

Eventually, he completed the task. The total yield was 6,240 jin.

However, considering the share owed to Jin Fugui—150 jin—plus the portion reserved for brewing Spirit Wine, the actual usable Spirit Rice amounted to 4,390 jin.

Nevertheless, he didn’t rush to check the attribute panel. Instead, he proceeded to harvest the Spirit Clover, watermelons, and cabbages together.

Evening arrived. As the sun set and the light dimmed, the scorching heat finally ceased completely.

Finishing gathering all plants within the Spirit Farm, Jiang Chen finally turned his attention to the long-awaited attribute panel.