Chapter Eleven: The Seed

“Senior Chen, what’s the current price for Spirit Grain Rice?”
After the man ahead finished his purchase and walked away, Zhou Changwang stepped forward and asked the middle-aged vendor in front of him.

This vendor was actually someone Zhou knew fairly well. Back when Zhou was an apprentice at the Spirit Plant Hall, learning under a Spirit Plant Master surnamed Sun, the master had once taken him to study at a spirit field belonging to another cultivator. That cultivator’s disciple was none other than the man before him now—Senior Chen, Chen Yushu.

Of course, had that been the extent of their connection, their interactions would have remained minimal. It was only later, when the Spirit Plant Master had to leave for a time, that he asked Master Sun to send some apprentices to assist his disciple—Chen Yushu—in tending the spirit fields. Zhou Changwang happened to be one of those apprentices. Through repeated encounters, they became familiar with each other.

After Zhou left the Spirit Plant Hall, he once came to the rogue cultivators’ market to buy rice and happened to run into Chen Yushu. They developed a certain rapport, though given their differences in cultivation and status, it could hardly be called deep friendship.

“Eleven pounds for one low-grade spirit stone,” Chen Yushu replied casually.

“Eleven pounds? Wasn’t it always ten?” Zhou Changwang was taken aback, but felt no joy. Instinctively, he sensed something was amiss.

“It was ten before, but now all the major spirit grain shops are selling at ten and a half pounds per spirit stone. If I don’t lower the price, I can’t sell anything,” Chen Yushu shook his head, explaining.

“You mean someone’s forcing the price down?” Zhou Changwang’s heart tightened.

His own spirit field’s grain would soon be ready for harvest, and yet at this time, the market price was dropping. This was hardly good news for him—or for any spirit farmer.

“It’s always like this. Just before the spirit grain is harvested, those above push the price down. Once the farmers sell their grain, the price rises again. Nearly every year it’s the same. I myself cultivate over ten acres of spirit fields; if I’m eager to sell, I have to accept the current price. Now it’s eleven pounds per spirit stone, but in a few days it’ll likely drop to twelve, maybe thirteen. If you’re not in a hurry, you can wait a couple days.”

Chen Yushu spoke calmly. As a rice merchant, he was well-versed in price fluctuations. It was only because he was familiar with Zhou Changwang that he bothered to explain; otherwise, he had little interest in idle chatter.

“I understand. Thank you for telling me, Senior Chen.” Zhou Changwang cupped his hands in gratitude, then quickly passed over a spirit stone. “I’ll take eleven pounds of Spirit Grain Rice, please. Here’s the spirit stone.”

He was buying spirit grain to quickly improve his cultivation, so he had no intention of waiting two days for a better price. The price fluctuation was beyond the influence of a low-level spirit farmer and rogue cultivator like himself. Nonetheless, sensing his income would soon drop, his mood grew heavier.

“Alright!” Chen Yushu nodded, weighed out eleven pounds of rice and handed it to Zhou Changwang. After a moment’s thought, he spoke again: “I recall you studied spirit planting under Master Sun, didn’t you? Master Sun specializes in seed cultivation. I happen to have a few seeds here that I obtained by chance. If you can get them to sprout, I’ll reward you handsomely.”

He patted his waist, and as a faint spiritual glow flickered, he flipped his hand to reveal three small, pitch-black seeds the size of a pinky finger resting in his palm.

A storage pouch!

Zhou Changwang glanced at Chen’s waist, unable to hide a hint of envy. Such a treasure for cultivators—even the lowest-grade storage pouch cost at least a thousand low-grade spirit stones.

But envy aside, he quickly focused on the three seeds, curiosity lighting his face. “What kind of spirit plant seeds are these?”

“Spirit grain seeds. I found them by chance in the Heavenly Tower Mountain. That place was once the seat of a cultivation clan, but a great battle turned it to ruins, and even the spiritual veins within the mountain were scattered. As for what kind of spirit grain these seeds are, only growing them will reveal the answer. I have my suspicions, but none I can confirm. Unfortunately, these seeds have been sealed away too long, deprived of spiritual energy; their vitality is nearly gone. I’ve tried many methods, but none could get them to sprout anew.”

Chen Yushu didn’t conceal the truth, and spoke earnestly: “So, if you can get these seeds to germinate, I won’t let your effort go unrewarded. I’m willing to offer a thousand low-grade spirit stones, or a treasure worth at least that much—including a storage pouch.”

Evidently, he’d noticed Zhou Changwang’s envious glance at his storage pouch.

“I can only try,” Zhou Changwang replied, brow furrowed.

He knew his own capabilities. Even Chen Yushu, a cultivator at the sixth stage of Qi Refining and skilled in spirit planting, couldn’t get these seeds to sprout. Zhou hardly believed he could succeed unless he advanced his Sprouting Technique to minor or major mastery.

As for learning under Master Sun, though he’d studied alongside over ten others, Master Sun had treated them as free labor rather than true disciples, teaching little of spirit planting. Whether it was Cleaning Spell, Spirit Rain Spell, Sprouting Technique, or Metal Finger, Zhou had learned them himself, spending spirit stones at the Spirit Plant Hall. When his five-year term ended, Master Sun dismissed him as promised, without ever formally accepting him as a disciple.

“Then I’ll await your good news,” Chen Yushu said, waving his hand. He clearly held little hope for Zhou Changwang. He had plenty of spirit grain seeds in his pouch and had already sought out many spirit plant masters to try to awaken them, all without success. No matter how optimistic, he’d hardly pin his hopes on Zhou Changwang—a low-level rogue cultivator at the second stage of Qi Refining.

It was merely a case of casting a wide net, hoping to catch something.

Zhou Changwang accepted the seeds and rice, cupped his hands, and said, “Farewell, Senior Chen.”

He turned and left the rogue cultivators’ market, pondering Chen Yushu’s intentions as he walked. Soon, though, he smiled wryly. No matter how much he speculated, it was useless. Whatever Chen intended, Zhou had no choice but to accept. Besides, this was just a commission, and judging by Chen’s expression, he hardly expected Zhou to succeed. Why worry?

Perhaps Chen simply wanted to see these spirit grain seeds brought to life.

At least Zhou sensed no malice from him. After all, he was merely a penniless, low-level spirit farmer at the second stage of Qi Refining. Who would bother scheming against him?

Trouble borrowed, trouble made.