Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Art of Talismans (3/5)

A decade and a half of toil had once brought him less than a thousand spirit stones in total.

But now, after opening a spirit field of his own, his yearly income had instantly soared to more than a thousand spirit stones.

Such terrifying returns left him momentarily dazed.

It almost felt unreal.

So this was the reward of having a craft to depend on, of being able to sustain oneself?

Thinking back to his days in the early qi-refinement stage, when he had worn himself to the bone for a mere thirty spirit stones a year, and then comparing that to now, when he could live well in the immortal market, tend no field at all, and still earn more than a thousand spirit stones annually, he could only sigh at the gap.

As expected, in any world, laboring for others led nowhere.

Shaking his head, he quickly cast aside those complicated thoughts and turned his gaze to the ten acres of spirit field before him.

From his sleeve, he produced the small freight storage pouch.

He activated his levitation technique.

As spiritual power flowed out of his body, he soon controlled that external force to strip grain by grain from the ears of spirit rice and gather it into the small storage pouch.

Since his levitation technique could extend only about thirty feet, he had no choice but to walk back and forth through the field, harvesting the rice.

Still, because he was a cultivator, both his walking speed and his harvesting speed were extremely quick.

He did not waste much time.

Soon, an hour had passed.

He had hulled all the spirit grain and packed the polished spirit rice into the small storage pouch.

A full eleven thousand catties of spirit rice.

Because the spiritual energy here was so abundant, the rice had grown exceptionally well, and naturally the yield was greater too.

After setting aside some seeds to be scattered back into the field, he made his way to the brook in the valley.

At that moment, holding the pouch containing more than eleven thousand catties of spirit rice, he could barely suppress the joy on his face.

Within the pouch, each plump grain of rice had become, in his eyes, a little mountain made of spirit stones.

Spirit rice was spirit stones.

These eleven thousand-plus catties of spirit rice were worth more than eleven hundred spirit stones.

Add to that his annual stipend of more than a hundred spirit stones, and if he sold the rice as well, his yearly income would surge to more than twelve hundred spirit stones.

More than twelve hundred spirit stones.

If he counted by the stipend he received now in the immortal market, it would take him a full twelve years of saving to accumulate that much.

If he went by the thirty spirit stones a year he had earned in the early qi-refinement stage, then the time needed to save over twelve hundred spirit stones would be far longer indeed.

Crouching down, he scooped up some water from the brook and wiped his face before finally forcing down the heat in his chest.

The chill of the water against his skin quickly brought him back to calm.

A first annual income of more than a thousand spirit stones truly had shaken him to the core.

It even felt as though the whole world was waving at him.

But by nature, he was cautious, and he swiftly suppressed that feeling.

It was only a thousand spirit stones.

At most, it made him a little wealthier than the average late-stage qi-refinement cultivator; any ordinary Foundation Establishment cultivator likely earned more than that.

There was nothing worth boasting about.

At least in the eyes of this long-lived man, that was how it seemed.

"I should head back first. Once I learn talisman craft and my identity as a talisman maker becomes known, I can use my position to sell the spirit rice in my hands for spirit stones."

After calming down, he thought to himself.

By now, the formation had already been replenished with spirit stones, all the spirit rice had been harvested, and new seeds had been planted once more.

All that remained was to return next year to harvest the rice again and replenish the formation with spirit stones.

There was no need to remain in this valley any longer.

Once a year would be enough.

Taking one last look at the valley where the spirit field lay, his figure vanished from within it.

Several hours later, he reappeared in the immortal market, inside the house he rented.

In his quiet room, he poured out some of the spirit rice from the small storage pouch to serve as his daily food, then hid the rest in a place not easily found.

Only then did he finally breathe a sigh of relief and sit at the table to brew himself a pot of tea.

Suddenly obtaining more than eleven thousand catties of spirit rice, and still able to obtain that much every year in the future, meant he naturally could not possibly sell it all.

He would have to keep some for his own daily consumption.

Ordinary rice was cheap, but for cultivators it merely filled the stomach.

Spirit rice, however, if eaten every day, could slightly improve a cultivator's speed of cultivation. The increase was modest, but not insignificant.

That small improvement, for someone like him who had long cultivated within a spirit-gathering formation, was still quite considerable.

Since he was the one growing the spirit rice, and had previously lacked the means, now that he did have the means, he would naturally replace his daily meals with spirit-rice porridge at once.

Thinking of the scenes from his early and mid qi-refinement years, when he had madly hoarded spirit stones, a trace of helplessness appeared on his face.

There was no helping it. Back then he truly lacked spirit stones; he would have liked to split one stone into two to spend.

That was why he had never developed a habit of eating spirit rice, nor did he often use spirit stones or pills to cultivate.

All of it was to save spirit stones.

To spend them where they mattered most.

It could be said that before this, he had always lived like an ascetic, ignoring even pleasures that ordinary people could enjoy.

But now it was different.

The more than eleven thousand catties of spirit rice in the small storage pouch gave him enough confidence.

Only today did he truly feel that he had broken free from the mortal body of his previous life and become a genuine cultivator.

"It seems the days of poverty and hardship are soon to be gone for good."

Lifting the teacup in his hand, he gazed up at the sky and raised his cup toward it from afar, then drank it dry in one swig.

Setting down the cup, he flicked his sleeve.

Three items appeared before him at once.

A low-grade Black Wolf-Hair talisman brush.

Low-grade talisman ink.

Low-grade talisman paper.

He opened the ink, spread out the paper, and took up the brush in one hand, silently recalling the method for drawing a low-grade Earthen Shield Talisman.

After a long while, feeling that he had finally adjusted himself to the proper state, he lifted the brush and dipped it in ink.

As the brush fell, intricate talismanic lines appeared at once across the paper.

Talisman patterns were not words.

Yet they were the key to a spirit talisman's power.

Only by infusing spiritual power into the brush and drawing the entire talisman in a single stroke, with not the slightest pause, hesitation, or deviation, could one complete a spirit talisman.

When spiritual power within the body was poured into the brush and the brush completed the spirit talisman design upon the paper, only then would the talisman truly take effect.