Qin Ming

Qin Ming

"Ah, when a man has no money, he lies idle; when a woman has no money, her body suffers..."

Dawn had only just broken.

Southern Wilderness Cultivation Realm, Shantytown on the outskirts of Qingyang Market.

A wooden door opened, and an ordinary-looking young man stepped out.

Qin Ming yawned, rubbing his bloodshot eyes listlessly before shouldering his Spirit Hoe and preparing to leave for work.

Before leaving, he glanced back at the neighboring courtyard, and anger immediately surged within him.

"In the dead of night, what the hell were you calling out for? Don't you have any public decency?"

His neighbor was a young female cultivator with rather good looks, but every few days, she brought male cultivators home for the night to engage in those illicit affairs.

Last night, she had moaned and howled wantonly all night long.

Once I have Spirit Stones, even if I can't afford a new house, I'll definitely set up a Soundproof Array first!

Qin Ming gritted his teeth and silently swore an oath in his heart!

The soundproofing in the houses around here was truly terrible.

At night, Qin Ming had been meditating and cultivating when the commotion next door became so intense that it sent his thoughts racing and his blood boiling, nearly shaking his Dao heart.

It had been far too dangerous!

With no other choice, Qin Ming had endured an entire sleepless night, furiously copying the "Pure Heart Sutra" a thousand times to the rhythm of the bed shaking next door before he finally managed to calm his mind...

Thinking of the endless work still awaiting him in the Spirit Fields today made Qin Ming's mentality collapse even further.

"It's been almost five years since I transmigrated into this cultivation world. When will this kind of life ever end?"

"With an environment like this, cultivate my ass!"

"I can't even get a peaceful night's sleep!"

"Ah, life without a Golden Finger is miserable..."

Before arriving in this world, Qin Ming had believed that cultivation meant roaming the Northern Sea at dawn and Cangwu at dusk, soaring through the heavens and burrowing into the earth, Sword Qi spanning ninety thousand miles.

But what was the reality?

Though cultivation sounded lofty and grand, what good days did low-level cultivators ever have?

Every day, they struggled bitterly just to survive, with pressure as towering as a mountain.

If this body's original owner hadn't been forcibly conscripted by the Spirit Feather Sect from a cultivation Lineage and ordered here to carry out a land-reclamation task, required to complete sixty years of corvée service...

It would have been better to find some mortal corner of the world and retire there. At least he could still live a few decades of good years.

After all these years, Qin Ming had long since seen reality clearly. He finally understood that he was, in the end, merely an ordinary man.

After all.

With his aptitude of four-element False Spirit Roots, without some extraordinary fortuitous opportunity, even if he cultivated until death, he would never reach the Foundation Establishment Realm.

More than a decade had slipped away in vain...

Yet his cultivation was still stuck at Qi Refining Stage Second Layer, imprisoned there. His immortal path was essentially hopeless.

It was understandable that his Lineage had chosen to abandon him and exchange him for resources with the sect.

Fortunately, his Lineage had pulled some strings for him in advance, so at least he did not have to head to the front lines and fight demon beasts for his life.

Qin Ming had rented three mu of Spirit Fields in the cleared-out outer region behind the front lines and become a Spirit Farmer.

And today was the day to harvest Spirit Rice.

However.

There was not the slightest joy of harvest on Qin Ming's face.

Instead, unease filled his heart.

A bountiful harvest also meant that people would be sent from above to collect the Spirit Rice tax.

"Yo, Little Qin, you're up so early? Looks like this season's Spirit Rice is growing quite well!"

While Qin Ming was pondering matters on his way to the Spirit Fields, he saw a cultivator dressed like an old farmer emerge from a nearby alley, greeting him with a smile.

The cultivation aura on the other man was considerably stronger than his own: Qi Refining Stage Fourth Layer.

"Morning, Old Jiu."

A faint smile appeared on Qin Ming's face when he saw him.

He then sighed.

"Ah, don't mention it. You know I'm only at Qi Refining Stage Second Layer, and my Spirit Rain Technique has only reached the beginner level. I can only use it a few times a month."

This man was named Cai Jiuwu. The nearby cultivators all called him Cai Lao Jiu, and he was an old hand in this Shantytown.

Qin Ming did not know his exact background. He only knew that he had been tilling this patch of land for more than a decade.

Cai Lao Jiu had dark skin, a face full of wrinkles, and an unkempt beard. With a smoking pipe clenched between his teeth, his trouser legs rolled up, and a Spirit Hoe and Spirit Sickle slung over his shoulder, he looked wholly unkempt.

He gave people more of an impression of a beggar than a cultivator.

Yet from Qin Ming's interactions with him, he knew that the man was actually only a little over forty...

"By the way, Old Jiu, with your Qi Refining Stage Fourth Layer cultivation and the Intermediate Spirit Rain Art, your harvest this year should be quite good, right?"

A trace of envy leaked through Qin Ming's words.

The Spirit Rain Technique was a spiritual planting spell passed down by the sect to Spirit Farmers like them. It scattered the spiritual energy from Spirit Crystals, Spirit Stones, or Spirit Veins into the air and could forcibly bring down spiritual rain.

All kinds of Spirit Grain, Spirit Rice, Spirit Fruit, and Spirit Herbs nourished by spiritual rain could not only avoid insects and rats, but also greatly increase the yield of spiritual crops.

Qin Ming had never expected that even farming land could be tied to one's cultivation, and so intimately at that.

After practicing the Spirit Rain Technique for more than half a year, he could only make rain fall within a radius of two zhang, and his spiritual power could sustain it for less than half an incense stick's time.

He had nearly wanted to die...

Other people pissed more than that.

"Hehe, not bad. Just passable. After we harvest the Spirit Rice and pay the taxes today, how about we head into the market and have a drink at Juxuan Pavilion to unwind?" Cai Lao Jiu smacked his lips, answering vaguely with the crafty look of an old fox.

"Forget it. I'm not going to that money-burning den." Qin Ming shook his head.

It was not that he did not want to go. His pockets were simply empty...

Cai Lao Jiu clicked his tongue.

"I'm telling you, kid, you really are no fun. There's still a long road ahead. It's fine to indulge a little now and then..."

"As the saying goes, drink today's wine and get drunk today. People like you and me, why bother with all that damned nonsense about seeking longevity and proving the immortal Dao? Better to wake early from the great dream and find freedom early."

"Sure. You're treating?"

"Get lost, get lost! Roll off to the side!"

Before long.

A massive mountain range wreathed in mist and clouds came into view. The mountains were vast and ancient, waterfalls plunged between their peaks, grottoes led to dragon pools, and the smoky waters stretched boundlessly, forming an ink-wash painting come to life.

On the cultivated mountainside, hundreds of mu of Spirit Fields spread out in orderly terraces.

A first-order Spirit Vein provided spiritual energy here, more than enough to grow low-grade Spirit Grain and spiritual plants.

Golden Spirit Rice ears filled the Spirit Fields, radiating brilliant light as they swayed in the wind. The unique fragrance of Spirit Rice spread through the air and rushed toward them.

It drew birds from the surrounding skies to come forage.

Clang!

Before the flock could land, an explosive sound rang out.

A simple Straw Man Puppet set within the Spirit Fields shook the Spirit Gong in its hand, sending waves of piercing sound rippling outward and startling the birds into scattering.

The two men followed the mountain path to their respective Spirit Fields and began working.

Within the Spirit Field.

Qin Ming stared eagerly at one of his plots, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as his spirits sank.

Around half a mu of Spirit Rice in that field was still lush green, utterly different in style from the mature golden Spirit Rice surrounding it.

If someone did not know better, they would think he had planted garlic shoots there...

He actually knew the reason for this scene quite well.

His Spirit Rain Technique was not proficient enough, its level was too low, he cast it too few times, and the rainfall had been distributed unevenly.

Looks like this season's Spirit Rice yield will drop. I wonder whether I can even manage to pay the taxes this time. Qin Ming felt worried.

Shaking his head, Qin Ming began harvesting the Spirit Rice ears.

The Spirit Sickle swept beneath the rice stalks. Clump after clump of Spirit Rice fell, and he skillfully tied them into bundles.

The Spirit Rice here could be harvested three times a year. As long as the roots were left behind, it would grow again in a few months and could be harvested once more.

It was much like cutting leeks.

The sun slanted westward.

After cutting the Spirit Rice, threshing the Spirit Rice, and bagging it all.

The Dharma power within Qin Ming's body had been completely wrung dry, leaving him exhausted like a dog.

He had only just wiped away his sweat when he heard the sound of a magical artifact tearing through the air in the distance.

Qin Ming hurriedly looked up and saw a Green Leaf Dharma Boat streak through the sky in a flash of green light before slowly descending.

One person stepped down from it.

The man was a fat middle-aged male cultivator. Dressed in the blue-and-white outer sect robes of the Spirit Feather Sect, with a huge belly jutting out before him, he carried himself with imposing authority as he strode over to Qin Ming.

This fat man was named Du Haifu, the overseer of this stretch of Spirit Fields.

He managed all the Spirit Fields and Spirit Farmers across this entire mountain. To Qin Ming and the others, he was a true local tyrant emperor.

"Hehehe, Little Qin, your hands are quite quick! You've already harvested all your Spirit Rice so soon."

Du Haifu opened the Spirit Rice bags before Qin Ming, pinched a few grains between his fingers, and first held them beneath his nose to smell.

Then he casually tossed the Spirit Rice into his mouth and chewed slowly, revealing a satisfied, smiling expression.

"Mmm, the quality is quite good. Looks like you put in no small amount of effort."

Du Haifu patted the Storage Bag at his waist, took out a Large Measuring Bucket magical artifact, and began weighing the harvest.

"You harvested two shi and eighty jin of Spirit Rice. You must pay seventy percent in taxes, which comes to one hundred and ninety-six jin..."

"Hm? That's not right?"

"Why is it fifty jin less than the Spirit Rice you harvested last season?" The smile on Du Haifu's face vanished in an instant.

After taking out a ledger and checking it over, his expression turned cold as his gaze shifted to Qin Ming.

Qin Ming's heart immediately tightened when he heard this.

He took a small brocade pouch from his robes and hurriedly handed it over.

Then he piled on a smile and said apologetically, "Senior Du, I'm truly sorry. There was a small problem in the Spirit Field. I'll make up for the missing half-bag of Spirit Rice with these Spirit Stones. Please be lenient."

Though Qin Ming's heart ached, he had no choice. It contained most of his savings.

In truth, the Spirit Feather Sect only collected fifty percent of the Spirit Rice as tax, but beneath them were stewards, and beneath the stewards were overseers responsible for watching the Spirit Farmers...

With each layer stripping away its share, what finally reached his hands was pitifully little.

That small pouch of Spirit Stones would most likely end up in Du Haifu's private pocket as well.

Du Haifu accepted the brocade pouch and weighed it in his hand. He already knew its contents, and his attitude softened considerably.

Still, he warned Qin Ming, "Only this once. There will not be a next time!"

With that, he waved a hand forward, and the several large bags of Spirit Rice before him were collected into his Storage Bag.

Qin Ming stared at the Storage Bag on Du Haifu's waist, as well as the Green Leaf flying boat magical artifact from earlier, and felt truly envious.

He could not afford things like those...

"Do you know how much Spirit Rice Cai Lao Jiu handed over this season?" Du Haifu suddenly asked him a question loaded with meaning.

He then raised two fingers and waved them before Qin Ming.

"More than twice as much as you!"

"You can't keep going on like this, kid."

"Since you at least know how to behave, I can give you a little advice."

"I just received news that at the next tax collection, the sect's stewards and elders will tally the Spirit Rice taxes paid this year. The ten Spirit Farmer cultivators ranked at the bottom will be sent to the front-line War Camp to fill out their numbers."

"You'd better take care of yourself."

After saying that, Du Haifu did not even look at Qin Ming's reaction before boarding his boat and leaving.

Qin Ming was left standing there in a daze.

"What? Sent to the War Camp?"

Night fell.

Qin Ming carried the remaining Spirit Rice on his back and returned to his house.

Bang!

After shutting the door, Qin Ming threw himself heavily onto the bed with a thud. He lay sprawled on his back like a dead dog.

His mind was a tangled mess.

He stared blankly at the ceiling, recalling Du Haifu's words from earlier.

He knew very well that with his current Spirit Rice output, he would absolutely be among those at the very bottom.

The Spirit Feather Sect's War Camp was a place with an extremely high casualty rate, one that made everyone turn pale at its mention.

So-called land reclamation naturally meant that the sect dispatched cultivators to open up the wilderness regions of the Immortal Cultivation World where no people lived.

Such places were often formerly occupied by demon beasts, or cut off by natural perils, with danger lurking everywhere.

Not to mention the indescribable, strange threats that made it difficult to cultivate in peace every day.

To put it bluntly.

The sect needed a large number of low-level cultivators to serve as cannon fodder scouting the way.

Being a Spirit Farmer was indeed tiring, but it was at least stable.

There was no shortage in this world of people struggling for survival.

The job others despised in every possible way had now become the straw that saved him from the sea of misery.

What should I do? I don't want to go to the War Camp and become cannon fodder!

I really couldn't accept this!

Qin Ming pondered it, perhaps he had been too exhausted today.

Before he knew it, he drifted off into a groggy sleep...

Suddenly!

A brilliant, enchanting streak of light flashed through the depths of his soul.

Qin Ming had a very long dream.

In the dream, all sorts of strange and peculiar plants seemed to have encountered something, growing savagely at an unbelievable speed, blotting out the sky and sun...

Boom!

Afterward, something seemed to explode inside his mind.

The next day.

Qin Ming got up, supporting his swollen head, feeling dizzy all over.

He got out of bed, fetched a basin of water, and walked to the flower bed in the courtyard to wash up.

Several dozen stalks of Spirit Rice were planted in the flower bed. He normally used them to study crop habits and occasionally practice the Spirit Rain Technique.

But the instant Qin Ming looked toward the flower bed, he froze completely!

Above three of the Spirit Rice stalks in the flower bed, a string of prompts had actually popped up:

Name: Golden Spirit Rice
Affix: Accelerated Growth (Maturity 100%, harvestable)

Name: Golden Spirit Rice
Affix: Intermediate Spirit Rain Art five times (Maturity 100%, harvestable)

Name: Golden Spirit Rice
Affix: Faint Mana (Maturity 100%, harvestable)

Qin Ming rubbed his eyes in disbelief and murmured:

"I woke up too abruptly."

"Could my sleeping posture have been wrong last night?"