Chapter Seventy-Four: Ominous

Herb Pavilion Supervisor.

Though the position was not high-ranking, it was far more relaxed than that of a spirit herb cultivator, and the income was considerably better. Seeing He Song rise from the mire of a spirit herb cultivator, Wei Fan was naturally pleased to help.

However, what Wei Fan did not know was that, for He Song, the position of Herb Pavilion Supervisor held little real appeal. Though it would elevate him to the mid-tier of the Immortal Market, making him a manager, such titles meant little to He Song. What mattered most to him was the peace to cultivate without disturbance. That was paramount.

It was true that the supervisor's salary was somewhat higher, but not by much. Zhao Lin, one of the supervisors in the Herb Pavilion, earned just over a hundred spirit stones a year. Compared with the ninety earned as a spirit herb cultivator, the increase was little more than a dozen.

To earn a handful of extra spirit stones each year, he would have to toil ceaselessly in the Herb Pavilion—He Song had no desire for such drudgery. He would rather remain a humble spirit herb cultivator, spend half an hour a day casting the Rain of Spirits technique, and devote the rest of his time to cultivation or other pursuits. Was that not preferable to being a beast of burden?

“Perhaps I should decline after all. Being a spirit herb cultivator is quite agreeable—I have ample time each day to devote to cultivation. If I become a supervisor, I fear I’ll be required at the Herb Pavilion daily, which would only slow my progress.”

Though Wei Fan’s good intentions were clear, after some thought, He Song chose to refuse. Simply put, continuing as a spirit herb cultivator meant he could train daily within his own Spirit Gathering Array at home, which naturally accelerated his progress. Becoming a supervisor would mean sacrificing that advantage, as he would no longer benefit from the array’s support, and his cultivation would inevitably slow.

To slow his advancement for the sake of a few extra spirit stones, and be bound to the Herb Pavilion’s duties—He Song would not accept such a trade.

“Don’t worry,” Wei Fan assured him, seeing his reluctance. “Everything you’re concerned about, I’ve already considered. Of the two supervisors who recently died, one held a very relaxed post that wouldn’t interfere with your cultivation. That’s the position I’ve sought for you.”

“The role involves overseeing the Herb Pavilion’s medicinal garden. You’ll merely need to be present in the garden during daylight hours, and the rest of the work is handled by others. All you need do is check the inventory of spirit herbs when you arrive and again before you leave. Moreover, the spiritual energy in the garden is much richer than elsewhere. Training there will only hasten your progress.”

With Wei Fan’s explanations, He Song soon gained a clear understanding of the supervisor’s role in the medicinal garden.

In essence, the garden supervisor was just an overseer. Tasks such as casting the Rain of Spirits, turning the soil, watering, and fertilizing were all performed by others. If He Song took the post, all he needed to do was tally the herbs at the start and end of each day. The rest of his time was his own.

Furthermore, because most spirit herbs required richer spiritual energy, the garden’s ambient energy was much denser than elsewhere, making cultivation more effective—even compared to the Spirit Gathering Array at He Song’s home. With the natural energy released by the herbs, cultivating in the garden might be even faster.

Truly, the position was enticing. Even with a Spirit Gathering Array at home, training in the garden would be no slower, perhaps even quicker. Thus, he could earn more spirit stones and increase his cultivation speed—why not accept?

With this realization, He Song cupped his hands in gratitude to Wei Fan. “In that case, I thank you, Brother Wei. I will remember your kindness.”

He Song agreed to the arrangement, and Wei Fan nodded in satisfaction. Having been friends for over a decade, they had aided each other many times. Naturally, Wei Fan hoped for He Song’s cultivation to advance swiftly—only then could He Song truly assist him. Such alliances were sometimes called faction-building, but more often, they were simply about mentoring the younger generation. When the younger ones grew strong, the benefits would return, and he lost nothing by it—just a simple recommendation. Since anyone could fill the supervisor’s role, why shouldn’t it be someone close to him?

Their business concluded, the two chatted for a while in the Spirit Construction Pavilion before He Song took his leave.

Departing from the Spirit Construction Pavilion, He Song made his way home. Having been away for more than half a month, his room likely needed a thorough cleaning. But with his mastery of the Art of Manipulation, such chores could now be done effortlessly.

Lost in these thoughts, He Song hurried on.

But as he approached his house, he suddenly noticed a familiar figure waiting outside his door.

Zhao Lin.

He was pacing back and forth, as if hesitating to knock. Seeing this, He Song was puzzled, but went straight over and greeted him.

“Fellow Daoist Zhao, why not come inside?”

The sudden voice startled Zhao Lin, who instinctively produced several Thick Earth Talismans. Only when he recognized He Song did he relax, putting away the talismans with a hint of embarrassment. Without further comment, Zhao Lin cupped his hands in greeting.

“Very well, let us speak inside.”

The two entered together. He Song used the Art of Manipulation to clean the dust from his home before inviting Zhao Lin to sit at the table.

At the desk, He Song skillfully prepared tea. Whether cooking for mortals or brewing tea for cultivators, hospitality was always important. Though he did not yet know Zhao Lin’s purpose, courtesy could not be neglected.

As He Song brewed tea, Zhao Lin gazed absently out the window. Only when the room was filled with the fragrance of fresh tea, and He Song placed a cup before him, did Zhao Lin finally turn back, pick up the cup, and sigh softly.

“Do you know why I lingered outside your door for so long, unable to bring myself to knock?” he asked, his expression inscrutable.

Before He Song could reply, Zhao Lin spoke again.

“More than half a month ago, I promised you I would arrange for someone to care for your seven mu of spirit fields. Do you remember?”

As he spoke, Zhao Lin put down his teacup, stood, and bowed deeply to He Song.

Seeing this, an ominous feeling welled up in He Song’s heart.