Lin Yunzi put a palm over his fist and quietly retreated.
The pair of grain-counting hands in front of the tall table stopped abruptly and froze there for a beat before the cone hat was pulled down reluctantly.
An elderly face with drooping eyes was under it.
Upon verifying Xiao Ran’s identity, the old man got up and cupped his fist slightly.
“Baili Qingfeng greets Senior Brother Xiao.”
After saying that, he sat down again. His voice sounded parched and leisurely with a laced hint of indifference.
“Make yourself at home.”
Xiao Ran had heard from Lin Yunzi earlier about this man.
Baili Qingfeng was the chief of Gargan-Grain Mountain, the Spiritual Farmer Trainer with a Golden Core cultivation base. He was good at large-scale plantation of spiritual grains and especially well-versed in directing wind and making channels.
If one looked at the spiritual farm on Gargan-Grain Mountain through the eyes of Xiao Ran’s Maximum Level Farming Skill, Baili Qingfeng scored 60 and above standard-wise.
It was unfortunate that the harvest was taking a plunge in the Dao-Ending Period. After working hard to overcome it, Old Man Baili was unable to come up with a better solution. Now that he was old, he gave up instead and kind of neglected his duty.
Inner Sect Trainers and Direct Disciples were peers, but they usually addressed each other as Senior Brother or Senior Sister out of courtesy.
Moreover, spiritual farming had never been Zongzhi Mountain’s main production field, and the lack of harvest caused their status in the sect to slip down the slope each year, bordering on being forgotten.
There was only a willful Trainer in the sect who would come to Gargan-Grain Mountain to farm for four hours each day.
A visit from Direct Disciples hardly happened once a year.
“Senior Brother Xiao’s young and promising,” Baili Qingfeng praised him plainly.
Unlike Lin Yunzi’s genuine fawning voice, Baili Qingfeng’s voice was barbed with mockery.
After all, his Golden Core cultivation base could kill Xiao Ran over 1,000 times with a single finger. It was inevitable that he would look down at this mortal who had joined the sect out of the blue.
Xiao Ran skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the point.
“I need high-quality seeds, fresh spiritual grains, and natural yeast.”
Yeast?
Baili Qingfeng pursed his lips.
“Senior Brother Xiao is in the mood to make wine at this juncture?”
Xiao Ran knew what he was referring to but found it unnecessary to extend the conversation, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible.
“This is Master’s request.”
Baili Qingfeng’s expression froze for a beat before he became much more reverent.
“Please follow me to the granary.”
The underground granary was well-ventilated, cool, and dry.
If one checked the piles, they would see rice and barley from the Qi Refining to the Golden Core stage, but they were old grains from at least half a year ago. They would work as seeds but they lacked the standards to become ingredients for rice wine.
Baili Qingfeng packed two sacks of high-quality seeds and gave them to Xiao Ran for free.
Nonetheless, Xiao Ran paid two spirit stones, not wanting to owe this old man a favor.
These old grains were fine level-wise, but the quality was average, failing to get a max level brewing master’s approval.
“I need fresh high-quality grains for the rice wine that’ll be fermented and distilled tonight.”
The legendary one-night rice wine?
Was this an alcohol expert the Sword-Wielding Elder had specifically selected?
Baili Qingfeng did not dare be perfunctory with him.
“Senior Brother Xiao, you will have to enter the valleys on your own to pick and harvest fresh high-quality grains that are suitable to make rice wine. As for the yeast, the wild forest under the Cricket Hill southwest has a lot of black mushrooms that can be cultured into natural yeast.”
Upon saying that, he passed the permit jade slip to the valley to Xiao Ran.
“Thank you.”
…
When they arrived at the valley, the whistle of the wind and the splash of the river could be heard.
Xiao Ran’s pace was light and bouncy on the spiritual bank as he weaved through the golden barley farm.
A breeze danced around, spreading the grain aroma all over the place. As sunlight poured, the air was brimming with the fragrance of ears of wheat and barley.
Xiao Ran remembered when he used to pluck tea on the mountain when he was younger. The scenery had been stunning, but tea leaves did not cost much.
The scenery here was much more gorgeous, as it spanned wide and far, but the level and quality of spiritual plants were mediocre. They were too different compared to the herbs on the Hundred Herb Hill.
Despite walking a long distance, Xiao Ran had yet to find fresh grains he was happy with.
He ran into several Spiritual Farming Disciples working in the farmland occasionally. They looked older than him and were lacking in spirit.
These older disciples cupped a fist to greet him when they saw Xiao Ran. After this gesture, they returned to their work, none of them offering to be his guide.
Xiao Ran walked by the river and suddenly caught a whiff of a barely noticeable fragrance.
Upon following the aroma and looking over, he saw a few pieces of barley husks floating in the river!
The fragrance was unusual…
Jumping into the water and scooping a husk up, Xiao Ran put it into his mouth to chew it.
Hmm, it looked normal, its level was not high, but its quality was over the moon!
After going up along the river and walking three to four kilometers, Xiao Ran reached a slope and found a grain field of over a square kilometer.
The stalks were a mix of green and yellow, tall and short, and straight and bent and they were growing together in a flurry on the same patch of land.
The grains looked average with varying levels and flaws but they shared one similarity: Each stalk had a distinct and prominent fragrance.
It was an incredibly high realm full of life, free and reserved, not wafting a human kind of grain aroma.
Weeds grew on the border of the farm.
A middle-aged man with some stubble who was wearing a cone hat was lying in the weed bush, using the handle of his shovel as a pillow and hugging a long sword.
He was wearing a farming robe uniform and had caught a short stalk of grain between his teeth as he hummed a light song.
The tune had a gentle and dreamy spiritual frequency, as if it possessed the magic to make the grains grow freely.
For a moment, Xiao Ran felt like he had seen… the keeper of the grain farm.
Someone who was able to manage this plot of land could not be ordinary.
Reverence welled within Xiao Ran as he cupped his fist from a distance.
“This junior needs some fresh grains to make wine. Could you part with some of these gems, senior?”
The middle-aged man flipped the side of his cone hat and peeked an eye open, espying Xiao Ran’s high-tier disciple robe and guessing his identity.
He did not regard him as a superior because he was a Direct Disciple, nor did he look down on him because he was a mortal.
There was no fluctuation of emotions.
“I’m not your senior. Feel free to get what you need.”
“Thank you.”
Xiao Ran slipped into the field and began to pick carefully.
He was so precise that each spiritual grain he was after had a perfect exterior or a high-tier level. He was selecting nearly impeccable grains quality-wise.
He was slow and patient during the process.
The middle-aged man looked like he was taking a nap, but sleep had left him because what this new Direct Disciple was doing… was something a mortal would never do!
He was able to find grains of perfect quality, even when these grains were different in size and color, as well as some oddly-shaped and cracked ones.
He had met an expert!
Was this an alcohol-making expert the Sword-Wielding Elder had specifically looked for?
He had no obvious reaction.
One hour later, Xiao Ran was finally done collecting two catties of grains.
Considering that these were high-tier spiritual grains with plump juice inside, it should be easy to distill ten catties of rice wine with this amount.
“Here are the spirit stones.”
Xiao Ran respectfully paid five spirit stones as a token.
The middle-aged man shook his head.
“I don’t need spirit stones. If you’re genuine about thanking me, get rid of the weeds and pests in the field for me.”
Xiao Ran narrowed his eyes slightly and answered calmly, “Senior, you must be joking.”
“Hmm?”
“There isn’t one pest in this field, nor is there an unnecessary weed. There are only spiritual plants and spiritual insects that you’ve picked meticulously.”
The middle-aged man was slightly surprised as he got up slowly with the help of his sword.
He had a big and tall build that exuded an indescribable sense of melancholy.
“Looks like you’re very accomplished at farming.”
Xiao Ran cupped a palm over his fist.
“Senior, you’re flattering me.”
The man approached the river, pressing the front of his cone hat down as he watched the water.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Please do.”
“If Wraiths were to besiege Zongzhi Mountain one day and you had two choices…”
The man’s voice was calm and tinged with melancholy and compassion.
“One, you can choose to unsheathe your sword and ultimately get killed by the Wraiths since the enemy’s too strong. Two, you judge the situation and retreat with caution, withdrawing into the safe underground cave and secretly beginning to farm to keep the lineage alive while waiting for the day to take revenge and turn the tide. What would you choose?”
Xiao Ran gave it a thought.
The second option, retreating to survive and carrying on the sect line in anticipation for a turnaround, was theoretically the absolute right choice.
However, a deeper musing revealed that only a minority could live through an ignoble survival like this without guilt. Most people, regardless of whether they fought or not, would die in the face of the Wraiths.
Xiao Ran, who was a Sword-Wielding disciple, could never choose to withdraw and farm, disregarding the lives of the weaker under the circumstances, even though he was really good at farming.
Women and weaker people could still farm. The duty of a Sword-Wielder was to ensure their safety so they could farm.
“I’d unsheathe my sword.”
Xiao Ran answered without hesitation before he added, “But I wouldn’t die in the face of the Wraiths.”
At that moment, there was a wave in the river and a ripple spread in the farm fields.
The middle-aged man nodded slightly.
“Prized disciple selected personally by the Sword-Wielding Elder, I’ve been brusque indeed.”
He saw determination and confidence in Xiao Ran, and these two characteristics were exactly the most precious qualities a Sword-Wielder could have.
Xiao Ran was skilled in farming, but his cultivation base was that of a mere mortal. He looked like he would be an excellent farmer. To the man, however, this was a better Sword-Wielder with limitless potential.
Curious, Xiao Ran cupped his fist and asked, “How do I address you, senior?”
The man turned around and took off his hat, revealing a dry-skinned, sparse-bearded, yet immensely free-spirited face.
“Chen Gongxing.”