"The Great Spirit Field Realm..." Mo Hua's heart trembled. His gaze grew complicated. "Do its people suffer so much?"
Lin Youfang sighed. "Whoever farms for a living doesn't suffer?"
Mo Hua frowned slightly. "Kun Province is prosperous, with fertile land and abundant produce. Its Spirit Farmers shouldn't have such hard lives, generally speaking..."
"The land is fertile, but there are so many people," Lin Youfang said with a helpless, bitter smile. "Billions of Spirit Farmers struggle to make a living. Just getting enough to eat is a problem..."
"Besides, what does prosperity have to do with the Spirit Farmers? They toil in the fields all their lives, but never enjoy the land's riches or its abundant harvests..."
Mo Hua's gaze darkened.
Lin Youfang sighed again. "Spirit Planting depends on heaven's favor. When the weather turns bad and the harvest fails, they suffer through days when no meal fills their bellies."
"When the harvest is good and there's enough grain to eat their fill, grain prices fall, and they can't earn any Spirit Stones."
"Then come untimely storms, locust plagues, droughts and floods, on top of oppression by Aristocratic Clans and crushing levies from the Dao Court Office. With all those man-made disasters, how many good days can they have?"
Mo Hua remembered the hard times the Rogue Cultivators of Immortal City had once endured.
Beneath the Ghost Mask, compassion showed in his eyes.
"And then there are people like Zhou the Wealthy..."
Lin Youfang's expression turned cold. "He was born a Spirit Farmer himself. He should have known the hardship of working the land and shown compassion to his neighbors."
"But once he grew rich, he became a landlord—harsh, miserly, and ruthless in squeezing others dry. He even set up that utterly heartless Feng Shui Formation in the heart of