Chapter Forty-Three: Making Inquiries

Spiritual farmers could not simply harvest their fields on a whim. They had to notify the Hall of Spiritual Plants, which held exclusive rights over the sale of spiritual rice. Beyond that, the main reason was that these spiritual fields belonged to the Hall of Spiritual Plants, and most spiritual farmers had signed tenancy contracts with them.

Those with deep pockets could pay the full rent in spirit stones and freely dispose of the rice as they pleased. But for spiritual farmers like Zhou Changwang, who had only paid a portion of the rent due to a lack of spirit stones in the beginning, the Hall of Spiritual Plants would calculate the remaining balance, and the tenant would need to make up the difference.

When Zhou Qiankun first helped Zhou Changwang rent three mu of spiritual fields, they didn’t have enough spirit stones, so they agreed to pay an upfront fee of ten lower-grade spirit stones per mu, with fifty percent of the field’s yield as rent. There was also a supplementary clause to prevent tenants from slacking off: if the yield per mu didn’t reach the value of forty lower-grade spirit stones—meaning the portion for the Hall of Spiritual Plants wasn’t worth at least twenty—then the farmer would have to make up the shortfall themselves.

Thus, after deciding to harvest today, Zhou Changwang made a special trip to the Hall of Spiritual Plants. As many farmers were harvesting today, the Hall had dispatched a steward to handle rent collection and purchase of spiritual rice on site.

Zhou Changwang left the harvested rice piled neatly for his father to watch over, then quickly sought out the steward. The man was a lean, mustached fellow in his forties, his beard a bit long and fluttering in the breeze, giving him a rather carefree air. Zhou Changwang recognized him—his surname was Chen, given name Qingfeng, a cultivator at the fifth level of Qi Refining. He wasn’t exactly fair, but he did abide by certain principles.

“Steward Chen, I’ve finished harvesting my fields,” Zhou Changwang said, approaching and bowing respectfully.

“You’re Zhou Changwang, right? I recall you rented three mu of spiritual fields and only paid thirty lower-grade spirit stones as rent. You’ll need to make up the rest—at least sixty more,” Steward Chen replied, glancing at Zhou Changwang and consulting his ledger. “How was this year’s yield?”

“There was a monster disturbance in the fields—I’m afraid one mu yielded less than usual. I hope you’ll be understanding,” Zhou Changwang said humbly, discreetly passing over a lower-grade spirit stone.

“Let’s take a look first,” Steward Chen said, waving his sleeve so the spirit stone vanished, then followed Zhou Changwang to his fields.

“Weigh it!” he ordered.

Two assistants stepped forward with a large beam scale. Just as they were about to begin, Steward Chen stopped them. “Use this scale. The ones you have are a bit old.”

He produced a new scale, which looked no different from the others, except for its newer appearance.

But Zhou Changwang knew the difference was substantial. The assistants’ scale was known as a “ghost scale”—weighing out a hundred jin of spiritual rice would only show ninety. As the saying went, it’s easier to deal with the king of hell than with his little devils. If they used that ghost scale, his one thousand five hundred jin would shrink by one hundred fifty jin for no reason. That was precisely what the bribe of a spirit stone was meant to avoid.

As for resisting? Refusing to sell to the Hall of Spiritual Plants? No spiritual farmer ever considered such a thing. The Hall of Spiritual Plants operated in the Phoenix Cry Market, which was officially under the Bai family’s governance, but in truth, the Hall belonged to the Green Origin Sect—a powerful sect whose influence spanned a thousand miles, with countless disciples, over a hundred Foundation Establishment cultivators, and even formidable Golden Core elders. Unless one wished to abandon spiritual farming altogether, no one dared defy them.

Zhou Changwang had a fair number of spirit stones, but his cultivation was low. If he caused trouble… A glance at Steward Chen, at the fifth level of Qi Refining, was enough to keep him calm and compliant.

“Yes, sir!” the two assistants replied and began weighing the rice with the new scale. Bag after bag went up, and after deducting the husks, the total came to precisely one thousand five hundred jin.

Zhou Changwang knew this was a bit less than he’d calculated—thirty or forty jin short—but it was already a good outcome, far better than if the ghost scale had been used.

“One thousand five hundred jin. According to your tenancy agreement, half goes to the Hall of Spiritual Plants, which means seven hundred fifty jin. At the current rate of fourteen jin per lower-grade spirit stone, that’s not enough to cover thirty spirit stones per mu as rent. You’ll need to make up ninety more jin. Any objections?” Steward Chen asked after a quick calculation.

“None,” Zhou Changwang replied, shaking his head.

The tenancy terms had been clear from the start—he couldn’t argue. It might appear that the Hall only collected the equivalent of twenty lower-grade spirit stones per mu, as if waiving the interest, but it was important to remember that the price of spiritual rice was set by the Hall. Fourteen jin per spirit stone was unreasonably low; in normal times, it should be ten. The Hall was making a fortune. Zhou Changwang couldn’t help but resent their greed and felt little goodwill toward the Green Origin Sect behind them.

“Do you wish to sell the rest of your spiritual rice? If so, I can pay you in spirit stones right away,” Steward Chen continued.

“I’ll sell!” Zhou Changwang gritted his teeth, stepped forward, and handed over another spirit stone. “By the way, I heard there are spiritual fields for rent within the market district. Is that true? This place is too remote and dangerous—next year, I’d like to rent one closer in. Can you tell me more?”

“There is such a thing,” Steward Chen replied, quickly pocketing the spirit stone. “But fields within the market are tied to residences. If you want to farm there, you must rent the corresponding house as well. The rent is steep—a house with one mu of spiritual field, even in the most remote part of the market, costs at least fifteen lower-grade spirit stones per month.

“I’ve also heard someone recently killed an armored boar at the foot of Mount Changling—was that you? Looks like you made a tidy profit, no wonder you’re thinking of moving into the inner city. Since you asked, let me give you a bit of advice: things have been unsettled outside the market district lately. If you can avoid going out, do so. If you can move into the inner city, even better.”

“Do you mean…” Zhou Changwang’s heart skipped a beat.