Three months passed in the blink of an eye, and it was once again harvest season.
Inside the bamboo lodge, cloth sacks filled with spirit grain were piled high. The faint fragrance of Yellow Sprout Rice lingered in the air.
Chairs and tables had long since been tossed into a corner of the courtyard, leaving only a bed and a meditation cushion in the room.
From ten mu of farmland, Ji An harvested around 3,500 jin of spirit rice. After setting aside 1,000 jin for rent and his own consumption, the rest was sold.
In the courtyard, two spirit fruit trees now stood three feet tall, while forty-two stalks of Firecloud Ginseng, planted around them, had already grown to the height of his calves, filling the entire yard.
The Firecloud Ginseng's leaves were palm-shaped with five leaflets, dark green with faint crimson veins. Under the sunlight, those veins glowed like fiery embers.
When the ginseng reached twenty years of age, it would bear a cluster of pea-sized green seeds. Once the seeds ripened to a deep red, the ginseng would be fully mature, ready to be refined into pills.
At this moment, Ji An lay on his chair, rocking gently in leisure.
Threads of golden light coiled around his left index finger, twisting and tightening with his intent like strands of golden silk, yet still carrying a razor's edge of sharpness.
This was a method he had devised to better temper his divine sense: letting the golden qi drawn from the Sharp Gold Art wind around his finger in a supple yet deadly current.
The five elements, metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, each hold both yin and yang aspects.
He pondered whether the metal qi produced by the Sharp Gold Art leaned toward yin, yang, or perhaps embodied both at once.
Such questions were far beyond what Qi Refining disciples needed to concern themselves with. Their only task was to absorb qi and raise their cultivation. Only after the Foundation Establishment did one truly need to study such a theory.
But Ji An felt there was no harm in learning early. Each time he practiced spells, he pondered these matters, testing and verifying his guesses little by little.
Footsteps approached, stopping just beyond the courtyard gate, followed by a clear voice:
"Daoist Ji, are you home? It is I, Li Changqing!"
The buyer for the spirit rice had arrived.
Ji An casually gathered the golden qi into a beam, sending it plunging into the ground.
The instant the golden light shot forth, his eyes felt as though stabbed by invisible blades, tears springing unbidden and streaking down his cheeks in two clear lines.
His skin burned as though scraped raw.
A thought struck him, and he sank his awareness into his dantian.
[Spells: Sharp Gold Art (Great Accomplishment 99% → Perfection 1%)]
As expected, the Sharp Gold Art had finally reached perfection after his relentless effort.
Ji An chuckled softly, whispering:
"All that time and energy was worth it. Even without the stone turtle, I can do it on my own!"
Outside, Li Changqing stood waiting, puzzled. Could it be that Ji An wasn't home?
But not every time they had traded, Ji An was always at home on this day.
Circling halfway around the courtyard, Li Changqing frowned at how tightly the place was sealed. The low picket gate had been replaced with a tall wooden door, eight feet high, blocking all view of the yard.
Glancing at the landmarks nearby, he confirmed he hadn't come to the wrong place. He returned to the gate and called out again:
"Daoist Ji, are you home?"
"I am. Wait a moment, I'll open the door."
Ji An had no time to study what changes had occurred in the Sharp Metal Art. He hurried to the kitchen, splashed clean water onto his face, and scrubbed.
He had once tried storing rainwater from the Minor Rain Technique in a vat to use for cooking. But he soon discovered that the spiritual energy in the rain dispersed quickly by the next day, and almost nothing remained.
Even when he used freshly conjured rain to steam Yellow Sprout Rice, the rice held no more spiritual energy than usual, and worse, it didn't taste as good as rice steamed with mountain spring water. Ji An figured this was because the spiritual rain lacked certain minerals the human body needed.
After washing his face, he grabbed the dry towel hanging by the door, gave a quick wipe, and strode toward the gate. He pulled open the wooden latch.
"My heavens, Daoist Ji, you actually cultivated your courtyard into a first-grade spirit field?!"
Under the sunlight, the medicinal herbs shimmered with fiery veins, and two fruit trees spread their branches proudly in the breeze.
Old spirit farmer Li Changqing pushed through the gate, exclaiming excitedly:
"That's Firecloud Ginseng and that one's a peach tree, and the other an apricot!"
The Li clan of White Ape Mountain had many Firecloud Ginseng plants in their medicinal gardens, and their family even cultivated a second-grade spirit apricot tree. To Li, these weren't extraordinary on their own.
But for a mere spirit farmer, only three years into the sect, to achieve this? That was what truly shocked him.
Among the hundreds of skilled farmers around Bihui Lake, only three had managed to raise their courtyard plots to first-grade fields.
This valley wasn't even built atop a spirit vein. To raise it to this level, Ji An must have tirelessly infused the soil with Thick Earth Formula at the mastery stage or higher.
"Sigh, Daoist Ji, if you had joined Falling Maple Valley instead, your treatment would be so much better than here."
Li Changqing sighed with regret. Once again, he felt Ji An had chosen the wrong sect.
"Careful, best not let the elders of this sect hear such words."
Ji An chuckled and gestured.
"Please, Daoist Li, let's talk business."
Though Falling Maple Valley valued spirit farmers more, defecting was a grave taboo. He was already a disciple of the Golden Spirit Sect. Unless expelled, leaving would mark him as a traitor, and the Hall of Enforcement would see to that.
The two men entered the bamboo lodge. Li Changqing did not bother inspecting the grain further; he simply weighed it.
"Mm. Two thousand five hundred jin of Yellow Sprout Rice. As usual: 105 spirit crystals for every hundred jin, that makes 2,625 spirit crystals in total."
He packed away the rice, settled the payment, and took his leave.
At the gate, he paused and turned back:
"Daoist Ji, with all these treasures growing in your courtyard now, aren't you afraid of thieves?"
"Of course, I'm afraid. But I don't have enough crystals yet. Once I sell this rice, I'll buy a formation disk."
Ji An nodded. Ever since planting the fruit trees and Firecloud Ginseng, he had never dared leave his lodge for more than half a day.
"Mm, yes. Better to seal the aura sooner rather than later."
Li Changqing waved farewell. Ji An already understood; there was no need for more warnings.
That evening, Li planned to speak with Li Changfeng in detail.
Ji An watched him ride away on his spirit bird. Once the figure vanished into the sky, he quickly shut the gate.
Narrowing his eyes, he cast the Sharp Metal Art again. A golden beam shot forth like a laser, tears streaming instantly down his cheeks.
This time, however, he was prepared. He shut his eyes just in time. The pain was not as intense, and he was able to observe what had changed.
Before, he had always seen metal qi as strands or wisps. But now it was particles.
Countless golden motes packed together tightly, fusing into a single radiant beam. Each mote carried the sensation of a razor's edge, sharp enough to pierce anything. That was why his eyes stung so painfully.
"Now that the Sharp Metal Art has grown so fierce… will it damage my crops if I use it against aphids?"
Testing this worry, Ji An aimed at a bamboo leaf near the wall and cast the spell again.
This time, he dispersed the motes and channeled only a trickle of power.
The golden qi was still sharp, piercing straight through the bamboo leaf. Yet to the naked eye, the leaf showed no sign of damage.
Though metal overcomes wood, the motes of qi were too few, apparently not enough to harm the plant.