Tournament Rewards and Back to the Fields
A week had already passed since the tournament ended. After my match with Do Won, I'd holed up in the eastern wing, focusing solely on recovery. For the first two days, I didn't step a single foot outside. And why would I? The aftermath of the duel was worse than expected. I'd drained every last scrap of qi I had—naturally, it took a toll. On top of that, the Purple Soldier Beans and Blood Needle shattered, sending a vicious backlash through me. In the end, it was all I could do to soothe my nearly ruptured meridians and mend my dantian, cracked like parched earth in a drought.
Any ordinary cultivator would've been bedridden for a full month in my state. But Cheong Nan-seo had heard about the match and sent over some Nourishing Pills and qi-boosting elixirs via one of her disciples. Combined with my unusually strong recovery ability, I was back on my feet in no time. By the end of the week, I could circulate qi without much issue.
Time to get back to it.
Stepping out of the eastern wing, the cool breeze of Qingling Peak welcomed me.
"Huuuuh."
Stretching my arms overhead, I felt my stiff body loosen just a bit. Staying cooped up inside too long had left me feeling sluggish and grimy.
"It's so quiet, though."
Just a week ago, the roar of the crowd from the arena had rung in my ears. Ah, right—the tournament championship ultimately went to Do Won. Qingyun Peak's top senior brother advanced to the finals after our match. The final had drawn elite disciples from the various elders, but he'd swept them all aside, just like in the group battles. As expected from a top contender; his reputation was well-earned.
His rewards were a Foundation Establishment Pill and a top-grade magic tool. By the next time I saw him, he might've broken through to Foundation Establishment.
A Foundation Establishment Pill and top-grade magic tool. To a Qi Condensation cultivator, those were treasures any genius would envy. I couldn't help feeling a twinge of regret. Even if I had no immediate use for the pill, I'd need one eventually.
Still, no real regrets. I'd poured everything into that fight and lost fair and square. What good was dwelling on it? At least I still had my share of the prizes.
Semifinalists got twenty mid-grade spirit stones and a high-grade magic tool each. Those who reached the fourth round received ten mid-grade spirit stones and a mid-grade magic tool. Thinking about the haul waiting for me at the Affairs Hall eased my mind a little.
"...Not a bad profit, all things considered."
Aside from the injuries, that is. And with the elixirs from my master, it might've even been a net gain.
I pulled out the new mid-grade magic tool I'd claimed from the Affairs Hall. At a glance, its elongated form resembled a sword, but it wasn't meant for slashing—it was built for riding, like a flying mount. More for transport than combat.
That's right. I'd chosen a mid-grade flying magic tool as my prize. I'd briefly considered a replacement attack tool for the shattered Blood Needle, but my Qingxin Beans and Purple Soldier Beans had proven stronger than expected, so I passed. Once my cultivation advanced a bit more, deploying the Purple Soldier Beans would be easier anyway.
Mobility, though—that was different. Walking around Qingling Peak was fine, but expanding my spirit field, foraging for herbs, or traveling to other peaks? A flying tool would be essential. The trip to Qingyun Peak for the tournament had been a hassle on foot.
And yeah, I kinda wanted to try flying one.
But my first time riding a flying magic tool was rougher than I'd imagined. The initial attempt ended with me losing balance and plummeting right away. The second time, I over-infused it with qi and shot up so fast I smacked my head on the eastern wing's ceiling. Recalling it now made my face heat up.
"...Good thing no one saw."
I cleared my throat and channeled qi into it. The tool hovered steadily in front of me, humming faintly. Cautiously, I placed one foot on it, then the other. I evenly circulated qi beneath my soles.
"Good."
The sword-shaped tool lifted me slowly into the air, bearing my weight. I gestured to steer, adjusting direction. Looking down, I spotted disciples working the spirit fields below.
Guess it's time for me to get back to work.
The tool let out a low whirr as it banked toward my familiar spirit field on the slope. I eased off the speed and descended gradually.
Tap.
Pretty smooth—I'd gotten the hang of it. I stored the tool back in my storage pouch.
"Perfect."
Rolling up my sleeves, I headed inside.
The spirit field looked nothing like when I'd first arrived. The soil now brimmed with vitality, rows of Qingxin Beans growing neatly in orderly lines. Not long ago, it had been a barren wasteland. Seeing the change filled me with calm satisfaction.
I'd tended it sporadically even during recovery, so the condition was solid—no insect damage, no wilting leaves. My senses picked up no disruptions in the field's qi.
"Looking good."
Murmuring to myself, I strolled between the furrows. A few spots needed touch-ups, sure. I could've done it myself, but...
No need anymore.
I took a few Qingxin Beans from my storage pouch. Placing them on my palm, I infused qi, and three bean soldiers materialized.
"You, start with the northern furrow. Fill in any collapsed soil."
"......"
"And you, pull the weeds first."
Convenient, really. No backtalk, just silent obedience. As long as I had enough qi, no better workers existed.
I watched them briefly, then headed to the Qingxin Bean section. Up close, they'd grown faster than I'd thought.
"...Already?"
The stems were sturdy, young pods budding at each node. I gathered qi at my fingertip and gently probed the nearest pod. It wasn't fully filled yet, but I instinctively knew when harvest time would come.
At this growth rate...
"...One week."
If nothing went wrong, I could aim for the first harvest in about a week.
"Should take two years normally..."
The rapid podding was probably from the Spirit Rain Technique watering, even without direct qi infusion. Snapping out of it, I checked the surrounding plants one by one. Most were similar—stems rising, leaves spreading, sparse young pods forming. Growth varied slightly, but overall, they thrived.
Pausing mid-inspection, my steps halted. In the field's inner corner, where shadows lingered longer, something felt off. Closer look: unlike typical broad, round leaves, this one's were lance-shaped. The stem seemed tougher, and its short pods unusually plump.
"...You're different."
Infusing a trace of qi via my fingertip, the feedback felt distinct. I couldn't pinpoint what yet, but...
"...Interesting."
I pulled a thin bamboo stake from my storage pouch and carefully planted it beside the plant.
"Alright. We'll monitor you separately."
Next up.
My gaze shifted to the adjacent cleared plot.
I'd originally planned Qingxin Beans here too, to build up the soil before other crops. But the condition was better than expected. From my storage pouch, I retrieved a small sack. Untying it revealed rice seeds glowing faintly red.
Red Spirit Rice. True to its name, a spirit rice with a crimson hue.
"Planting rice in a field still feels weird."
In my past life, rice meant paddy fields—seedlings raised in trays, then transplanted. Not here, though.
I beckoned two bean soldiers over.
"You, till the soil here. Not too deep—just enough to cover seeds."
"You, follow behind and scatter the rice seeds."
They nodded silently and got to work. One lightly turned the soil; the other trailed, dropping seeds at even intervals.
"...Wow."
Depth just right, spacing spot-on. No detailed instructions needed—they intuited and executed perfectly. Amazing how they grasped my intent.
Impressed or not, I had my own tasks.
"Keep at it."
I turned back to the Qingxin Bean section. With pods still maturing, maintaining momentum was key.
In the middle of the Qingxin Bean field, I drew a deep breath and formed hand seals.
"Spirit Rain Technique."
Clear qi spread from my fingertips, gathering overhead into rain clouds above the field.
Shaaaa.
Not a downpour—just the right amount. Practice had made me proficient. Breathing in the earthy scent of moist soil, I walked the rows, fine-tuning the flow. Less in the shady north, more in the sun-baked south. Extra care for that unusual plant.
Satisfied, I stopped the technique. Dew-like droplets beaded on the vibrant leaves. Admiring the sight, I approached the staked plant.
By next week.
The beans would be ripe then.
"Wonder what kind of bean soldier it'd make?"
Curiosity bubbled up. My current Qingxin Bean soldiers were decent, but this variant? Tougher? Faster? Something entirely new? The possibilities excited me.
Another name surfaced naturally: Purple Spirit Bean. The mother beans for my Purple Soldier Beans were essentially consumables.
No way to cultivate more?
With only two left, I couldn't risk planting them carelessly. Losing them would mean forfeiting my trump card. Stable cultivation could let me field an army of Purple Soldier Beans—ranks advancing in perfect formation. Thrilling to imagine.
But nothing came to mind right now. Guess I'd have to scour the Scripture Pavilion's records. Info on the mutated Qingxin Bean, clues for Purple Spirit Beans—something had to be there.
I surveyed the field. One pair of bean soldiers still planted Red Spirit Rice; elsewhere, Qingxin Beans swayed gently in the breeze, glistening with moisture.
Wish they'd hurry up and grow. Can't wait for next week's harvest.
First, a trip to the Scripture Pavilion.