Chapter Thirty-Three: Assigning Night Watch Duties

“As expected, those who kill and plunder always wear a golden belt. No wonder so many people are obsessed with becoming marauders. This effortless way of gaining riches truly is intoxicating.”

Zhou Changwang took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing the stray thoughts in his heart. He knew that all marauders lived by licking blood from the edge of a blade. Although they could rob others and profit greatly, the risks were just as high. Carelessness could lead to encountering a formidable foe and being slain in retaliation.

Those who walk the night road often meet with ghosts.

In this world of cultivation, there were too many strong practitioners. Everyone had at least one or two trump cards… The path to greatness is fraught with hardship; if one can avoid conflict, it is best to do so.

Afterward, Zhou Changwang placed all the items into his storage pouch one by one, leaving only the magical flying sword behind. He fondled it lovingly for a moment before quickly focusing his mind, beginning the process of refining it.

To unleash the full power of a magical artifact, one must imbue it with their own spirit and then control it with the spiritual energy within their body. Only then can the artifact display its proper might.

However, for someone like Zhou Changwang, even after completing the refining process, he could only exert one attack with it. After a single strike, the sword would fly out, and with his current spiritual strength, it would be almost impossible to recall it. Even if he forced it back, the drain on his spirit would be immense.

Only when a cultivator reached the fourth level of the Qi Refinement stage—when the spirit underwent transformation, merging with spiritual energy to become spiritual sense—could they freely control the artifact, sending it out and recalling it with ease, attacking their enemies in rapid succession as if moving their own limbs.

Zhou Changwang immersed his spirit into the flying sword, attuning himself to it, while his inner spiritual energy slowly poured into the weapon, nurturing it.

One breath, two breaths, three breaths…

Only after the time it took for an incense stick to burn did Zhou Changwang stop and return the flying sword to his storage pouch.

Currently, he was using the three-day refining method. As long as he devoted one incense stick’s worth of time each day for three days, using his spirit and magical power to refine the sword, he could then wield the artifact immediately and unleash its power.

So, there was no need to rush.

Having put away the magical item, Zhou Changwang took out a wooden box. When he opened it, three pitch-black seeds lay inside.

These were the three spiritual rice seeds he had obtained from Chen Yushu earlier. He didn’t know whether these seeds were completely dead or if they still held a trace of life. He simply used them as practice tools for his spellwork.

Placing the three seeds before him, he focused his mind. Spiritual energy flowed, forming complex runic structures.

One breath, two breaths…

In less than three breaths, the weaving of spiritual energy was complete. Dots of spiritual light gathered in his hands.

Growth Spell: +1

He reached forward. The points of light spilled from his fingers, falling onto the three pitch-black seeds.

Naturally, the seeds showed no change.

Zhou Changwang was not surprised and continued channeling his spiritual energy, casting the spell again and again.

One, two, three times…

After several dozen attempts, he stopped. He put the three seeds back in the wooden box and placed it in his storage pouch.

It had to be said: having a storage pouch made everything much more convenient. With its own pocket dimension, he could store and retrieve items at will—efficient and swift.

The only minor regret was the pouch’s limited capacity—about one cubic meter, so storage space was scarce.

But in truth, he was already quite satisfied.

…

The next day, as soon as Zhou Changwang arrived at the spiritual fields, he saw Old Xu standing with a group of spirit farmers, his face dark and his mouth muttering curses.

Many spirit farmers wore similarly grim expressions.

Without even needing to ask, Zhou Changwang knew that someone’s spiritual field had been robbed again.

And Old Xu, most unfortunate of all, had been hit once more.

Ten acres of spiritual fields, nearly every plot had been targeted. This time, the losses were even greater than yesterday—three hundred jin of spiritual grain, which, after husking, would yield two hundred and thirty jin of spiritual rice.

Moreover, traces of demonic beast rampage were found in many people’s fields, not just evidence of theft.

One person was particularly unlucky: in a single acre, almost half the spiritual grain had been trampled and devoured by a beast—an enormous loss.

Zhou Changwang’s field was also not spared.

There were clear signs of trampling, with large patches of spiritual rice flattened and a small portion bitten off and eaten.

“These are the marks of an Ironclad Boar rolling through. Judging by the tracks, the one in your field weighed at least five hundred jin,” Old Xu said, returning from the group of spirit farmers. When he saw the state of Zhou Changwang’s field, he seemed somewhat comforted. He tried to smile but, recalling the devastation in his own field, couldn’t manage it. Instead, he sighed deeply.

“There are such large demonic beasts on Mount Changling? Are those cultivators from the Hall of Spiritual Plants just pretending to patrol every day?” Zhou Changwang muttered, busying himself in the field, righting the flattened stalks of spiritual rice. Seeing those half-chewed plants, his heart ached. All this was the fruit of his hard labor, working day in and day out, only to see it wantonly destroyed.

“Those grand masters only go through the motions each day. Do you think they’d really trouble themselves to hunt monsters for us?” Old Xu said indignantly, then explained, “Besides, Mount Changling is vast. Their patrols only cover the outer edges near the fields. Most demonic beasts hide deeper in the mountain.”

“But the spiritual rice won’t be ready for harvest for a few more days. At this rate, things can’t go on,” Zhou Changwang frowned, casting another Growth Spell as he spoke. Dots of spiritual light fell on the battered rice plants, which immediately revived, standing tall before his eyes.

“It can’t go on,” Old Xu agreed. “So just now I discussed with the other farmers, and we’ve decided to pool together and organize a night watch. There are only about three hundred acres of fields at the base of Mount Changling. If we each send three to five people, it should be enough to protect them all.

Changwang, would you like to join? If you do, just contribute two low-grade spirit stones. Once we hire someone to guard at night, your field will be included in the protection. That way, whether it’s the rice thief or a marauding beast, they’ll be chased off for you.”

He looked at Zhou Changwang with enthusiasm.

“Two low-grade spirit stones? Who’s willing to stand watch?” Zhou Changwang frowned. Yesterday, many had loudly declared they would guard the fields at night, but in the end, not a single one stayed. Evidently, most people valued their lives and dared not risk spending the night outdoors.

Perhaps that was why the rice thief had grown ever more brazen, stealing an even greater haul this time.