Chapter Fifty-Three: The Fourth Batch of Transplants

The effectiveness of the Four Directions Blazing Elixir remains uncertain for now, but the millet nourished by the spiritual liquid has evidently thrived remarkably.

The gluttonous deer confirmed this, and without delay, Chen Yu took his sickle and began the harvest.

Looking up at the sky, perhaps fortune smiled upon him—the clouds were no longer as gloomy as the day before, though it was unclear when the rain might fall. The rains near summer often come sudden and fierce, unpredictable in their course.

He walked to the backyard, carrying a bundle of dry grass. Soon, he would have to tie up the millet stalks from the field and lay them out to dry. Time was of the essence; the sun was just right today, and if he missed this window, who knew when such fine weather would return.

The harvesting went swiftly. Chen Yu bent over, weaving through the medicinal field with his back curved. The plot was small, so his movements were quick, and before long, the millet was fully gathered.

Not a drop of sweat appeared on his brow. With his current stamina and endurance, even fifty more acres could be handled with ease. Unlike rice or wheat, millet didn’t cut or scratch much; though his clothes were thin, his arms and legs showed no marks.

He remembered back home, in a past life, helping with harvests—how exhausting it was: aching back and waist, the scorching sun burning his head, skin reddened, and cuts from stalks and leaves that itched and stung mercilessly.

With the millet harvested, there was still much to do. Besides drying, the soil needed turning. Usually, one would leave the stalks to decompose into fertilizer over time, but Chen Yu couldn’t wait. His supply of spiritual liquid was limited; he needed more Primordial Spirit Roots and Azure Spirit Roots.

Carrying bundles of millet into the courtyard, the little deer outside sniffed the air at the gate. But perhaps because the millet was still unhulled, the scent was faint, insufficient to lure it. It soon wandered away, frolicking beyond the yard.

Chen Yu evenly spread out the green-yellow stalks. Though the yield per plant was not small, the total was limited by the small field size. There was still ample space in the courtyard.

Surrounded by green pine and pear trees, he lay back on the stone path, basking in the gradually brightening sunlight.

During this pause, he brought over a wide-mouthed wooden bucket for holding millet—a “king’s bucket,” as it was called. Down the mountain, some referred to it as a “big-mouth bucket.” During farming seasons, it could hold grain, water for slaughtering pigs, or be used for bathing.

One bucket, many uses.

Besides this, there were winnowing baskets, sieves, and dustpans—tools he would need later. The Taoist temple had a threshing basket, somewhat different from the field one, though not by much.

Both were used for threshing, but since he was alone on the mountain, threshing machines requiring two people were impractical. He couldn’t very well have the gluttonous deer carrying millet stalks.

Thus, he resorted to a more primitive method. After some rummaging, he found two long, rounded sticks hidden in the corner of the storage room.

Time to beat it out.

With his strength, honed by a hundred days of martial training, this was the moment to use it.

Having prepared the tools, he knew all this work had to wait until the millet dried; impatience wouldn’t help.

“The sun is bright; two days should suffice.”

That was, if the heavens didn’t play tricks. A downpour tomorrow would ruin everything, forcing him to pile the millet indoors and wait for the next strong sun.

And if moisture got in, dampness and rot would be constant threats.

He wished for good luck.

Chen Yu whispered a prayer, deciding to offer an extra incense stick to the Taoist Ancestor today.

May the Ancestor bless him.

But he could not rest afterward. He needed to quickly turn the soil and prepare the field. The list for the fourth batch of spirit plants had long been drawn up. He had inserted one round of millet and descended once, otherwise, the planting would have begun before the upcoming ritual.

It would not have been delayed until now.

“Primordial Spirit Root, Azure Spirit Root, Orchid Garden Divine Fruit…”

Tilling the soil with his hoe, his mind was still occupied with these thoughts.

There were some large white roots in the vegetable plot, as well as greens and Orchid Garden Fruits, though the quality was poor. The Orchid Garden Fruit was nearly past season; a dozen days into June and they’d all wither, requiring a wait until next year.

There was indeed much to plant.

Spiritual liquid could not defy the seasons, unlike the greenhouses of his past life.

Moreover, spiritual energy could not be saved as seed, except for the millet germinated by the spiritual liquid—a pity that cut off his plans for continual generational mutation and evolution.

“Plant them all!”

Finally, he resolved to use all the spiritual energy available to nurture everything possible before the final stretch of early summer.

Yet, choices still had to be made. Some wild vegetables were unnecessary; the spiritual energy in his conscious ocean was not that abundant.

The “old three” must be planted—these were foundational. They had high yields and many uses, involving spiritual liquid, mind, and fetal breath—touching many aspects. As for beans, just a couple at the edges would suffice; whether they thrived or not mattered little.

Fasting beans had little use now. Unlike mythical fasting pills, the beans would rot quickly and could not be stored long. Even dried, they were tough and unpleasant to eat. With ample food and drink on the mountain, there was no urgency.

Then there were grain and medicinal seeds.

Medicinal seeds had already been planted around the vegetable garden, requiring a large area for environmental setup, so they were left out of the main field. As for grain seeds… he still remembered how the batch he previously infused with spiritual energy all but failed, except for the millet surviving. The same happened when infused with spiritual liquid.

The latter was due to season, but spiritual energy could ignore the seasons, yet the result was the same. He reasoned that either the seeds were unsuitable, or the diluted spiritual energy was too potent, over-nourishing the other grains.

This time, he decided to try again. Before, he had only vague sensing through natural affinity with spiritual energy; now, with spiritual power supporting him, he could observe more deeply and precisely. His curiosity about spiritual energy far surpassed that for spiritual liquid.

Spiritual energy was fundamental.

Chen Yu had not forgotten that spiritual liquid, source, and aura were all products of the Primordial Spirit Roots grown by spiritual energy—just variant outputs.

Returning to the present, since he had decided on the crops, preparations had to be made.

Turning the soil, watering, and gathering the appropriate plants.

Since this followed the millet harvest, he would have to weed more diligently, lest the field be overrun with millet seedlings in a dozen days.

Then why had he sown another batch of millet seeds?

Ah, just two nurtured by spiritual energy—no problem there.

Though only a dozen or so, Chen Yu had invested heavily in these seeds. Two alone equaled the entire harvest of the first cultivation in the whole medicinal field.

A sunk cost—he could not bear to waste them.

With his spiritual power penetrating the soil, silver light fell upon it. Spiritual liquid and spiritual energy were two states: one became a shining network connecting everywhere, the other was fully absorbed by the plants, turning into nurturing fertilizer.

At this moment, the soil appeared clean and normal to Chen Yu.

Then came the transplanting, including the fourth batch: the Azure Spirit Root and the old three, along with lubricating grass, three types of medicinal seeds, and five types of grain seeds.

The five types of medicinal seeds brought back from the Nine Herbs Pavilion included the precious heart grass, already planted at the garden’s edge with protective fencing. Nurtured with spiritual energy, it was growing peacefully.

One of the other four required proximity to water and a moist environment. Daily watering was impossible, so planting would wait until the pond below the stone cliff filled.

The remaining three could be planted now. Previously, with a chaotic infusion of spiritual energy and liquid, the yield was sparse. Now, it depended on the medicinal field’s success.

Originally, he had wanted to plant Codonopsis too, but it was thriving well in a clay pot and preferred stability unlike the precious heart grass, so he hadn’t transplanted it.

Thus, the fourth batch was set. The bulk was undoubtedly the old three, almost entirely occupying the vegetable garden.

“Need to think about what to plant next.”

With the vegetable garden now full, continuing cultivation would require finding new crops.