Vermillion Blood Spirit Rice was not something that should have appeared in a place like this.
As I walked through the narrow path between the fields, my thoughts lingered on that fact again and again. The wind brushed past my ears, carrying the familiar scent of damp soil and young crops, yet beneath that familiarity lay something dangerous—something precious.
Vermillion Blood Rice was a Tier Two spirit crop, but its value far exceeded what that simple classification suggested.
Unlike Jade Spirit Rice, which was cultivated by countless low-level sects and villages to replenish qi, Vermillion Blood Rice nourished qi and blood simultaneously. Its grains were saturated with condensed vitality drawn from both the spiritual veins of the earth and the life essence of the soil itself.
To cultivators who walked the orthodox qi path, it was useful.
To body cultivators, it was priceless.
Each grain strengthened muscles, reinforced bones, tempered organs, and refined blood essence. When consumed regularly, it could gradually alter a mortal body's limits, preparing it for harsher cultivation techniques that would otherwise tear flesh apart.
That was precisely why it was dangerous.
Blood-based nourishment was volatile. Without a sufficiently stable environment, the rice would wither, mutate, or outright die. Even worse—if grown improperly, it could accumulate chaotic blood energy that harmed the consumer instead of strengthening them.
And yet…
Here I was.
Growing it.
On a Tier One medium-grade spirit vein.
I let out a slow breath.
"Madness," I muttered inwardly. "Absolute madness."
Normally, Vermillion Blood Rice required at least a Tier Two spirit vein. Some sects even constructed artificial Yao beast blood pools beneath their fields to stabilize its growth.
I had none of that.
What I did use was a spirit gathering formation plate, a system-enhanced reward.
The formation beneath my field did not forcefully pull spiritual energy. Instead, it gathered it slowly, subtly, like water seeping into dry earth. Over time, the concentration within that one mu of land surpassed what it should have been capable of sustaining.
On the surface, it remained ordinary.
Beneath the soil, however, spiritual energy circulated endlessly, nourishing every root and grain.
Even so, this was still a gamble.
Ultimately, the Rapid Growth Card played a major role in making the seeds sprout successfully.
If anyone discovered it—
If the sect envoy noticed even a hint of abnormality—
I wouldn't just lose the crop.
I might lose everything.
That thought made my steps slow unconsciously.
I glanced at the surrounding fields, at the low wooden fences around it, at the distant silhouettes of village houses. Everything looked peaceful. Ordinary. Safe.
And that was exactly why I had to be careful.
I could not afford to draw attention.
Not yet.
By the time my house came into view, the sun had already dipped low in the sky.
From afar, I noticed a small figure standing stiffly at the entrance.
Mo Fan.
He was holding a wooden stick with both hands, knuckles white from gripping it too tightly. His feet were planted firmly apart, eyes alert, posture rigid—like a miniature guard standing watch.
I stopped for a brief moment.
Then sighed.
And quickened my pace.
As I approached, he noticed me and straightened even more, as if afraid I might think him lazy.
"What are you doing?" I asked, crouching slightly so my eyes met his.
"I'm protecting the house," he replied immediately, voice serious.
"…Protecting it from what?" I asked.
"From danger," he said without hesitation.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment.
This kid…
He was trying too hard.
Ever since the he arrived at the house, Mo Fan had become overly serious, as if the world might collapse if he relaxed for even a moment. It was his way of repaying gratitude—by shouldering burdens far heavier than a child his age should ever carry.
I reached out and gently took the stick from his hands.
"There's no danger," I said calmly. "And even if there were, that's something adults worry about."
He hesitated, then slowly loosened his grip.
I smiled faintly.
"Come on," I said. "Get inside. I'll make something good to eat."
His eyes widened instantly.
"Really?"
"Yes."
The change was immediate.
His tension melted away like frost under sunlight.
"Then—then I'll wash my hands first!" he shouted, turning and running inside.
I watched him go, a quiet warmth spreading through my chest.
This life…
This simple, ordinary life—
It was fragile.
But it was worth protecting.
And as I stepped through the doorway, I made a silent promise to myself.
No matter how far I went on the path of cultivation—
I would never let this peace be taken from me.
-----
Mo Fan had already rushed toward the wash basin, splashing water everywhere as he scrubbed his hands far more vigorously than necessary. Mo Ling sat on a small stool nearby, legs swinging idly, watching him with bright curiosity.
"Brother is silly," she said cutely.
Mo Fan shot her a glare. "Big Brother Shen is cooking. So I must be extra clean."
I chuckled and walked past them toward the inner room.
Grandfather was sitting near the window, the late sunlight outlining his figure in a warm glow. He held an old farming tool in his hands, fingers moving slowly as he inspected a worn edge. His posture was relaxed, but the lines on his face spoke of years of quiet endurance.
When he noticed me, he set the tool aside.
"You're back earlier than usual," he said.
I nodded. "Finished what I needed to do."
He studied my expression for a moment, then asked, "The fields… everything fine?"
"Yes," I replied. "They're growing well."
That wasn't a lie.
Just not the whole truth.
Grandfather seemed satisfied with that answer. He poured a cup of warm water and pushed it toward me across the table.
"Sit," he said. "You've been running around these days."
I sat.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Outside, Mo Fan's exaggerated scrubbing continued, accompanied by Mo Ling's soft giggles.
Then Grandfather spoke again, his voice casual—but his eyes sharp.
"You seem… different lately."
I paused, fingers tightening slightly around the cup.
"Different how?" I asked.
He thought for a moment. "More… at ease. Before, even when you smiled, it felt like you were holding something back."
I lowered my gaze.
So he noticed.
Of course he did.
This old man had raised me. He had watched every subtle change since my childhood. There was no point pretending otherwise.
"I've found a direction," I said finally.
Grandfather didn't press. He never did.
"That's good," he said instead. "A man without direction walks faster—but ends up nowhere."
I smiled faintly.
After a short pause, I continued, "Grandfather… I'm going to cultivate tonight."
His hand stilled.
This time, his gaze sharpened noticeably.
"Tonight?" he asked.
"Yes."
"That's not unusual," he said slowly. "But you sound… certain."
I met his eyes.
"If nothing major happens," I said, choosing my words carefully, "please don't disturb me."
The room grew quiet.
Grandfather looked at me for a long moment—long enough that I wondered if I had said too much.
Finally, he nodded.
"I understand," he said. "If you say that much, then it must be important."
I exhaled quietly.
This was different from before.
Before, my cultivation attempts were hesitant—more hope than confidence. Interruptions didn't matter because failure was expected.
But this time…
I was stepping into soul cultivation.
And that required absolute concentration.
Just then, Mo Fan ran back inside, hands dripping wet.
"I'm ready!" he announced proudly.
Mo Ling followed, clapping her hands. "Hungry!"
I stood up.
"Sit properly," I said, lightly tapping Mo Fan's head. "And no fighting."
"Yes!" Mo Fan replied, sitting up straight as a board.
As I moved toward the kitchen, Grandfather spoke again, his voice softer.
"Whatever path you walk," he said quietly, "remember—strength is meant to protect, not isolate."
I nodded.
"I won't forget."
Dinner was simple meat dish with a soup but warm.
Mo Ling kept asking for more, Mo Fan tried to eat politely but failed halfway through, and Grandfather watched them with an expression that mixed amusement and quiet relief.
For a moment
Everything felt complete.
When the meal ended and the children were distracted with small chores, I stood and spoke again.
"I'm going to my room," I said. "I'll start cultivating."