Chapter Two: Isn't It Just Grinding?

A person is a complex being; their thoughts, decisions, execution, and choices all determine the ceiling of their achievements.

Before his transmigration, Zhou Changwang was just an ordinary man. He graduated from a second-tier university, was unemployed for half a year afterward, and only then humbled himself to work in sales and food delivery. After two years of repeated setbacks, it was only at his family's strong urging that he returned home for arranged dates and, incidentally, to take the civil service exam...

Ordinary and unremarkable.

So he didn’t think he could achieve anything remarkable in this perilous and terrifying world of cultivation.

But now, everything was different.

Because he possessed an attribute panel.

This was his golden finger.

With a golden finger, even a pig could soar, even a dog could become extraordinary.

He figured he was at least not worse than a pig or a dog, right?

“Still, stay calm. I should first test the attribute panel's actual function.”

Zhou Changwang took a deep breath, steadying his emotions.

Currently, he only knew one cultivation technique and four spells.

To test the effect, spells were naturally easier.

Among the four spells, Minor Spirit Rain and Accelerated Growth were both for spiritual plants. In fact, Metalbane Finger also counted as a botanical spell, specifically for pest control; it was one of the few spells he knew with offensive capabilities.

But now he was in his rented house on the outskirts of Fengming Hollow’s market—definitely not a suitable place to display such magic.

So he used the Cleansing Spell.

Though it seemed simple, any spell, once cast, involved runes.

Following his memories, Zhou Changwang formed the hand seal, guiding his spiritual power with his mind, and used it to trace the rune associated with the Cleansing Spell.

Sparks of spiritual light instantly burst forth from his hand.

“Go!”

He pointed forward, sending the lights flying into every corner of the room.

Silently, all the dust in the room was swept away, leaving the place spotless.

Cleansing Spell +1

After casting the spell, Zhou Changwang immediately focused on his attribute panel and saw clearly that the value behind Cleansing Spell had jumped from (Novice 59/100) to (Novice 60/100). His heart surged with excitement.

“As expected, what increases is proficiency. Each time I cast the spell, does my proficiency rise by one?”

To confirm this, Zhou Changwang quickly cast Cleansing Spell again.

This time, he targeted himself.

As the spiritual light scattered, Zhou Changwang felt his entire body refreshed and clean, as if he’d just been scrubbed for half an hour—immensely comfortable.

At the same time, the number representing Cleansing Spell on the attribute panel had changed again.

Cleansing Spell (Novice 61/100).

“Sure enough, proficiency increased. With each practice session raising it by one, doesn’t that mean I only need to cast it thirty-nine more times to master the spell at the Novice level?”

Seeing this, Zhou Changwang finally felt reassured.

Though each practice only raised proficiency by a single point, the significance was extraordinary.

After all, reality isn’t a game; effort rarely yields an equal harvest—there’s plenty of fruitless labor and the despair of seeing no progress.

It’s just so in life, and just so in cultivation.

Ordinary cultivators, even peerless prodigies of great sects, can lose heart and slacken when they see no progress before mastering a spell, falling into self-doubt or even abandoning cultivation entirely.

But he was different.

Every session produced results.

Bit by bit, small efforts would add up.

“So it’s just about grinding, is it? When it comes to diligence, who am I inferior to?”

Zhou Changwang’s spirits soared. At last he felt a small path was opening through the fog-shrouded road of cultivation before him.

Five-element spiritual roots, poor aptitude, no hope of ever reaching the Foundation Establishment path?

But if he could cultivate the Five Elements Technique to mastery, or even perfection, would things not change?

And for each spell—at the Novice stage, their power was limited, but what if he perfected them? Wouldn’t their might increase dramatically?

“Stay low-key, stay low-key. The great road is within reach, but the journey is long and perilous. If I lose myself or reveal my hand, disaster is certain.”

Zhou Changwang was no reckless youth. He knew that staying inconspicuous wasn’t always safe, but showing off would surely bring a swift end.

So he quickly calmed down.

Then, as usual, he got up and scattered a handful of rice into the pot in his kitchen, boiling himself a bowl of porridge.

Naturally, this was just ordinary mixed-grain porridge, not spiritual rice. Life as a rogue cultivator was tough; spiritual rice porridge was a luxury for him.

With homemade pickles to go alongside it, Zhou Changwang shouldered his spiritual hoe from the corner and went out the door.

He hadn’t forgotten his current identity.

His three mu of spiritual fields were his future livelihood, and with harvest season approaching after months of labor, he certainly wouldn’t neglect them.

...

The outskirts of Fengming Hollow were all houses built by rogue cultivators who had settled there around the market. The area was cramped and messy, with alleyways everywhere. No one knew just how many rogue cultivators, disaster-escaping cultivators, or martial artists and ordinary folk chasing dreams—mostly descendants of rogue cultivators—lived there.

Whether out of unwillingness to leave or in hope that their descendants might inherit spiritual roots and cultivate, everyone struggled on, stubbornly clinging to this place.

Zhou Changwang walked along, cautious, and soon left the bounds of the market, arriving at the outermost spiritual fields.

“Changwang, you’re finally here! If you’d come any later, the weeds in your fields would be taller than the spirit grain itself.”

From afar, an old man in a gray robe, also carrying a spiritual hoe on his shoulder, called out.

Though his face was full of wrinkles, his hair was jet black and styled in a Taoist bun—quite unlike an ordinary old farmer, making it hard to judge his age.

This was Xu Fuguai, a rogue spiritual farmer like Zhou Changwang. Most people just called him Old Xu.

He was at the third level of Qi Refining, and it was said he’d been stuck there for over a decade. Having given up on advancing further, he now focused solely on accumulating spirit stones to leave some fortune for his descendants.

Both of them had rented spiritual fields at the foot of Long Ridge Mountain east of Fengming Hollow. Their fields were close, so they were fairly well acquainted.

But unlike Zhou Changwang, who had only rented three mu, Old Xu had ten mu and over a decade of experience as a spiritual farmer.

“Here I am,” Zhou Changwang hurried over, and sure enough, saw that beside each seedling in his field, weeds were growing rapidly.

Weeds, unlike spirit grain, aren’t spiritual beings; they grow swiftly and thrive in the spiritual fields’ aura. In just one night, they could shoot up tall and thick.

If left alone for three days, the whole field would be overrun.

For spiritual farmers like them, daily weeding was essential; otherwise, the weeds would steal the aura meant for the spirit grain, affecting the harvest.