Chapter 381: The Spirit Fields (End of excerpt)
Chapter 381: The Spirit Fields (End of excerpt)
There are a hundred paths to cultivation.
In the vast lands of the Nine Provinces, customs vary from region to region. Cultivators adapt to their surroundings, relying on the mountains and rivers for sustenance and pursuing a hundred different trades to make a living.
Spirit farming, the cultivation of spiritual crops, is one such trade.
Tongxian City, nestled among mountains, lacks farmland. The spiritual grains and rice that its residents consume are purchased from a nearby immortal city to the west, whose inhabitants make their living from these spirit fields.
Mo Hua had never seen such expansive spirit fields as the ones that stretched out before him.
South of Qianjia Town, the spirit fields were laid out in a checkerboard pattern, covering an area of about a hundred acres.
The fields were filled with lush, green rice seedlings, enveloped in a misty, aqueous vapor.
The sky above was vast and distant, with wandering clouds. The fields were bountiful, spreading out like a jade carpet toward the horizon, where they met the blue sky and the mist-shrouded mountain ranges.
Mo Hua took a deep breath, the crisp air invigorating his mind and body. A spark of understanding lit up his eyes.
Heaven creates all things, and Earth nurtures them.
Heaven manifests the Great Dao, while Earth is its derivative.
And indeed, between these spirit fields, there were traces of arrays.
Along the ridges of the fields, hard earth and stones were laid out, upon which array formations were inscribed.
However, these arrays were not meant to be impenetrable; they were simple nurturing arrays designed to cultivate the spiritual rice and retain moisture.
Mo Hua released his spiritual sense, perceiving only ordinary nurturing arrays, devoid of any unique auras. He felt a twinge of disappointment.
He decided to venture deeper, curious to explore further.
There was a small path winding through the spirit fields, and as Mo Hua walked along it, his brows furrowed.
It was still early in the morning, and the bright morning sun shone upon the fields where spirit farmers toiled.
Most of these farmers were elderly, their clothes tattered and muddy, their skin dark and thin, and their fingers rough and cracked.
They worked with bent backs, as if burdened by an invisible weight, struggling to breathe.
In the vibrant fields filled with life, these stooped figures with their listless expressions seemed out of place.
Mo Hua sighed.
As he continued on his way, he came across an old man beside one of the spirit fields.
The old man was likely another spirit farmer, his body dry and skinny, his face a waxy yellow, like a wooden sculpture, and his eyes held a glimmer of despair.
Beside him was a young grandchild, whose dirty little hands were wiping away tears.
Mo Hua's heart went out to them, and he asked, "Is something the matter, sir?"
The old man turned stiffly, his eyes falling on the young cultivator with a clear-cut features and lucid eyes. He tried to speak several times but couldn't find the words, finally sighing deeply. "The field... it's ruined..."
His voice was thick with bitterness and hardship.
Mo Hua was taken aback, and he asked with concern, "How could the field be ruined?"
The old man pointed to the field ridge, his voice hoarse. "The array is broken. Without the array, the spirit field is barren, unable to retain water. The crops will wither, and we'll have no harvest this year..."
As the old man spoke, his voice trembled with suppressed sobs.
Mo Hua turned to look and noticed that one of the nurturing arrays on the field ridge had failed. The array patterns remained, but the spiritual energy no longer flowed.
Mo Hua breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought it would be something more serious...
It was just a simple six-path array pattern.
"This array is simple," Mo Hua said. "I can help you fix it."
The old man stared at him, stunned. "You... You know arrays?"
The child beside the old man also looked at Mo Hua with wide, hopeful eyes.
"I happen to have studied it," Mo Hua replied confidently.
Seeing Mo Hua's composure despite his young age, the elder believed him a little, but he still hesitated: "What if it breaks...?"
"It's already broken," Mo Hua pointed out.
The elder was taken aback, but realizing the truth in Mo Hua's words, he reluctantly agreed. The array was already ruined, and they had no other options. However, the array was their livelihood, and he couldn't help but worry.
After much internal struggle, the elder seemed to give in. "Alright, young man. Go ahead and try."
He truly had no other choice.
Mo Hua took out an array brush and dipped it into the ink.
The elder was surprised by the young cultivator's apparent skill and found himself anticipating the outcome.
Mo Hua walked to the edge of the field, brush in hand. With a few casual strokes, he lifted his head and crisply announced, "Done."
The elder was still dazed, unsure of what Mo Hua had done. "Is... is that it? It's fixed?"
He took a closer look, seeing only a few quick brushstrokes. Could it really be that simple?
"Yes," Mo Hua nodded. "It's quite simple."
The elder approached the field, examining the array. Indeed, a faint yellow glow had appeared, and the moisture was slowly returning to the field. The spiritual rice plants were no longer withered, their color turning a shade greener.
The elder couldn't help but break into a smile. As he continued smiling, he realized that with this harvest, he and his grandchild wouldn't starve to death. He crouched by the field, wiping away his tears.
Mo Hua felt a pang of sadness. Some cultivators lived such humble lives that merely surviving was enough to bring them to tears.
"Thank you, young man," the elder said sincerely, his heart filled with gratitude. He had worked with the fields his entire life and could only express his thanks simply.
Mo Hua asked, "Haven't you invited others to fix the array before?"
The elder shook his head helplessly. "Yes, but it costs ten spirit stones each time. And it keeps breaking, so we keep paying..."
"To fix this array, I've spent all the spirit stones we had, and now we owe the Sun family several dozen more. If I keep paying for repairs, even if we give this year's harvest to the Sun family, I still won't be able to repay the debt."
"The Sun family?" Mo Hua asked.
The elder pointed towards Qianjia Town. "They're the richest family in town."
"This array is their family heirloom. They said only they know how to draw and fix it, so we have no choice but to pay whatever they ask."
Mo Hua frowned. "Haven't you tried inviting other array masters?"
The elder looked glum. "There are no other array masters in Qianjia Town... And any passing array masters wouldn't help us, considering the Sun family's influence. They're like the local tyrants, and no one dares to offend them."
Mo Hua's feelings were complicated as he heard this.
He glanced at the array on the spirit field and noticed signs of previous repairs. However, the ink used was extremely cheap, and the technique was crude and unrefined, indicating that the repairs were done by an apprentice or an unskilled array master.
Or perhaps, he thought, the Sun family was deliberately doing a shoddy job. If the array was too well-made, it wouldn't break easily, and they wouldn't be able to exploit the farmers for spirit stones.
Realizing he had been rambling, the old man came back to his senses and apologized, "I've been complaining to you for so long..."
Then, as if remembering something, he looked ashamed as he continued, "As for the spirit stones for fixing the array, I..."
He wanted to offer compensation, but his family was destitute, and he couldn't even scrape together a single spirit stone.
Mo Hua waved his hand dismissively. "It was no trouble at all. Don't worry about it."
The old man still felt indebted and invited Mo Hua to his home for a meal.
Mo Hua agreed as he had some questions he wanted to ask, and he could see the guilt in the old man's eyes.
Along the way, the two chatted casually.
Mo Hua learned that the old man's surname was Ding, and he lived with his family of four in Dongshan Village near Qianjia Town. They had been spirit farmers for generations.
However, the meager income from cultivating spirit fields was barely enough to sustain their family.
His son and daughter-in-law had gone out to seek a living elsewhere and could only return once every year or two.
He and his young grandson were left to tend to a few acres of poor-quality fields, barely scraping together enough food to eat.
Old Man Ding invited Mo Hua to his home.
As expected, Mo Hua saw that their home was barren and humble.
Old Man Ding looked embarrassed as he explained, "Our home is..."
Mo Hua shook his head, unbothered by their humble surroundings.
Coming from a scattered cultivator background, he understood poverty well.
Old Man Ding went to start a fire and prepare a meal.
Soon, a bowl of porridge, a dish of salted vegetables, and a freshly killed local chicken were placed on the table.
The chicken had been calling out to Mo Hua when he entered the courtyard.
Although it was a spiritual beast reared by cultivators, it had almost no spiritual energy and was thus inexpensive, so some scattered cultivators also kept a few, feeding them grass and grain.
However, this was the only chicken the Ding family had.
The salted vegetables were bitter and salty.
There was some rice in the porridge, but only in Mo Hua's bowl.
Old Man Ding and his grandson's bowls contained only plain porridge, with not a single grain of rice.
Farmers with no rice to eat—the irony was not lost on Mo Hua.
"The scattered cultivators in Tongxian City have it hard, but most scattered cultivators in the cultivation world probably have it even harder."
Elder Yu had once said these words to him, but this was the first time Mo Hua truly felt their weight.
He thought back to the Sun family's lavish breakfast spread and the rice and meat they had wasted...
Mo Hua sighed.
Some lived in luxury without lifting a finger, while others toiled endlessly, only to go hungry.
(End of Chapter)
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