That clump of rice stalks suddenly bent outward in all directions, clearly trying to evade him. With a casual sweep of his hand, he drew a circle and finally caught five or six of them. His palm could feel their obvious struggling force.
Accept your fate! Liu Xiaolou viciously muttered to himself, and his sickle slashed down.
Two of the rice ears abruptly bent low, their awns stabbing straight at Liu Xiaolou's wrist. Most were blocked by the cowhide, leaving only a few shallow scratches. A few struck squarely into the back of his hand. Even with Qi Refining third layer cultivation, the pain made him shudder. Though they did not draw blood, it still hurt badly.
"Die!" Liu Xiaolou gritted his teeth. Ignoring the pain, he poured true essence into the sickle and viciously drew it inward, cutting down the clump of rice ears and tossing it into his basket.
Sensing a tremendous threat, the surrounding spirit rice shared a common hatred of the enemy and attacked Liu Xiaolou of their own accord. One by one, they bent backward and drew up sufficient force before fiercely stabbing toward him. In an instant, every part of Liu Xiaolou's body below the waist was pricked by rice awns. Many pierced through his clothes and stabbed his skin, then remained embedded in the cloth.
The Three Xuan Scripture emphasized the balance of yin and yang, cultivating both inside and out. His skin was tougher and harder than that of cultivators at the same realm, so he did not fear the concentrated stabbing of the awns. But there was no avoiding that pain. After harvesting a few handfuls, he had no choice but to jump out and catch his breath for a while.
After working busily for more than half an hour, he had harvested over a tenth of an acre of rice ears around him. The stalks that had lost their ears declared their death, all drooping limply.
While resting, Liu Xiaolou looked up toward the surrounding hills. After observing for a moment, he confirmed that the farm steward had already left and that there was no one else on the hills. The segmented stretches of dense forest also blocked the sight of the other hired cultivators, so no one was watching him.
He rolled his sleeve up a little, revealing the Misty Incense Tendon wrapped around his arm.
How could the sect's treasured skill be exposed so easily?
This incense tendon was soft yet resilient, tight yet fine, comparable to a magic artifact. Though it was only about three feet long, it was enough to save him some effort.
With a flick of his wrist, the end of the incense tendon snapped out from his wrist and shot into the rice field. It looped around three to five rice ears at their roots, winding several tight coils around them and binding them firmly. Those rice ears immediately struggled and thrashed desperately, stabbing fiercely toward Liu Xiaolou.
Unfortunately, they were too far away. Their awns could not reach Liu Xiaolou and could only struggle in vain.
Liu Xiaolou poured true essence into the Misty Incense Tendon and yanked inward. At once, he uprooted those rice ears and flung them onto the ridge between the fields.
Using the same method, harvesting spirit rice became much easier, and he no longer had to endure the agony of being stabbed by clustered awns.
Squatting to one side, Liu Xiaolou continuously swung the incense tendon and poured in true essence, uprooting clump after clump of rice. In less than an hour, he had harvested this entire spirit field.
After these spirit rice plants were uprooted, their roots gradually withered. The rice ears lay on the ground, wriggling and curling, but they had lost their former ferocity. Picking the ears now was much easier.
Spirit rice had a low yield. Each rice ear contained only around ten grains of spirit grain, each wrapped in a thick gray husk. He gathered the rice ears harvested from this acre and a third into a pile, stirred up a fierce wind with true essence, and blew hard. Taking a burlap sack from his basket, he packed it full and weighed it in his hand. It was roughly forty jin, though the exact amount would only be known after weighing it.
Liu Xiaolou pressed on while the iron was hot. Before nightfall, he cleared another three spirit fields and harvested around two hundred jin of spirit rice.
He ate two pieces of dry rations with the clear stream water of Shang'e Creek, sat cross-legged for half an hour to restore his true essence, then came to the fifth spirit field. He planted several torches along the field ridge and continued battling through the night by lamplight.
After working continuously like this for a day, he cleared fifteen or sixteen acres of spirit fields and harvested several hundred jin of spirit grain.
Liu Xiaolou divided this spirit grain evenly into five sacks. He found a hidden spot and buried one sack, then carried the remaining four sacks on a homemade shoulder pole to the farmstead to turn in his work.
Lamp-torches burned at the farmstead granary, and the hired hands stood in line delivering grain. When it was Liu Xiaolou's turn, he carried his shoulder pole into the granary. Plump burlap sacks were piled along the walls, while spilled spirit grain covered the ground. The farm steward and accountant guarded a large basket, receiving grain and recording the accounts.
Liu Xiaolou stepped forward and poured the spirit grain from his sack into the basket. Even after it reached level with the rim, he did not stop. He poured in quite a bit more, piling it into a small peak before stopping.
That was the rule.
The field foreman reached in, grabbed a handful of spirit grain, and inspected it. Satisfied, he nodded, then stirred it several times without finding any sand or stones. He then flew forward with a kick against the wooden basket. Quite a bit of the pointed heap of spirit grain immediately spilled out and rolled across the ground. That kick was delivered with considerable skill, leaving the grain in the basket level with its rim, as though it had been measured with precision. Then he shouted, "Fifty jin!"
A granary servant stepped forward, poured that basket of spirit grain into a burlap sack, carried it to the wall, and stacked it neatly.
Then came the next basket, the next kick, the next fifty jin...
After six baskets, the remaining thirteen jin were weighed with a small measuring scoop.
The accountant's abacus beads clattered like rain as he kept calling out the figures. Finally, he delivered the final verdict: "Three hundred and thirteen jin, six taels, and six qian. Round off the six qian!"
After writing it in the ledger, he gave Liu Xiaolou a glance. Once Liu Xiaolou confirmed it, he had him leave his mark.
Liu Xiaolou confirmed it. The sack he had buried contained just under eighty jin.
The full harvest period for spirit fields lasted only nine days. Once the proper time passed, the rice ears would wither, and the spirit grains inside would rapidly leak spiritual energy. The remaining spirit rice would have little spiritual effect left, perhaps even becoming thoroughly spoiled, unfit even to be eaten as ordinary grain.
Thus, the harvest season was extremely urgent. During the final days, even the farmstead's steward, accountant, and members of the Zang clan went into the fields, desperately racing to bring in the harvest. The entire farmstead was steeped in tension.
But Liu Xiaolou could harvest with the Misty Incense Tendon, saving a great deal of effort. One day before the harvest period ended, he had completed most of his assigned work. Only the final spirit field of three acres and seven tenths remained.
By this day, figures could be seen moving through the forest one after another. Liu Xiaolou knew they were cultivators who had finished their work and were spying on the surrounding area. Some cultivators had slightly higher cultivation or techniques better suited to harvesting, allowing them to work faster. After clearing their own allotted fields early, they would use their remaining spare time to seek opportunities in fields assigned to others.
Before long, someone indeed emerged from the forest and asked Liu Xiaolou with a grin, "Little brother, how about ten jin per acre?"
"No need." Liu Xiaolou refused on the spot.
"Only one day remains. If you cannot finish harvesting it, you'll suffer a disastrous loss, hehe."
"This is my final field. I can finish it. Brother, please go elsewhere."
The man smiled and shook his head before slipping into the dense forest and vanishing.