Chapter 15

Liu Xiaolou counted with worry, and the number of rogue cultivators heading to the fields had already exceeded twenty. His heart sank; the manor usually only recruited twenty helpers, and there were already more than twenty rogue cultivators in front of him, so where would there be any spots left?

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, and he began to look forward to it with trepidation: why were four more recruited this year?

Could it be an exception?

Since there was an exception, one more for me... shouldn't count for much, right?

Zang Baili was the head of the Zang clan. He himself was at the Great Perfection of the Qi Refinement Stage 10, but due to his limited talent, it was difficult for him to make any further progress, so he had no chance of being admitted to the inner sect. However, within the Zhanglong Sect, ever since the rise of the Zang clan more than two hundred years ago, they had always been a relatively important branch of power. Almost every generation had disciples entering the inner sect, and three had even held high positions as Elders of the Zhanglong Sect.

It could be said that the Zang clan was a major cultivation family in western Hunan, and even if placed in the entire Jingxiang region, they were ranked within the top one hundred, possessing a deeper foundation than the Zhang clan of Jinping Manor.

Liu Xiaolou's chances of requesting an audience with Manor Head Zang Baili were naturally not high, and in fact, that was the case. The one who received him was the Zang Steward of Eyang Manor, a fat man in his fifties who was fat beyond measure, with a face that was flushed red. He maintained a hands-on-hips posture at all times, and it was unclear whether this was his habit or if he had a problem with his lumbar spine.

Steward Zang had just returned from patrolling the spirit fields and met Liu Xiaolou at the edge of the manor grounds. He asked with his hands on his hips: "You look somewhat familiar?"

Liu Xiaolou hurriedly replied: "This junior came to help out three years ago. The steward is busy with a thousand tasks, so it is this junior's good fortune that you can remember me."

Steward Zang nodded thoughtfully, the fat on his neck shaking, and asked again: "Three years ago? Indeed... then why haven't you come in the last two years?"

Liu Xiaolou was stunned, unable to keep up with the steward's train of thought, and could only smile apologetically: "The quota for helpers at Eyang Mountain is too small, and there are clouds of applicants; it is truly impossible to grab the opportunity."

Steward Zang let out an "Oh," the tail of which fell downward rather than drifting upward, meaning he accepted Liu Xiaolou's explanation. He then asked: "Since you knew the opportunities were few, you should have arrived early; why are you late again this time?"

He had already thought of the reason on the way, so Liu Xiaolou replied: "I had already descended the mountain two days ago, but there was a sudden heavy rain in the mountains, and flash floods blocked the road, which is why I was delayed for two days. I ask the steward to forgive me."

Steward Zang asked: "From which mountain?"

Liu Xiaolou said: "From Wulong Mountain, Liu Xiaolou of Gan Zhu Ling."

Steward Zang signaled to the manor headman who was hunched over beside him. The headman, who always kept an account book in his hand, opened it to check and replied: "Wulong Mountain, Gan Zhu Ling, Three Mystical Sect rogue cultivator Liu Xiaolou, that is correct."

The account book contained the roster of independent cultivator helpers for Eyang Mountain. Those who had helped before and were recognized by the Zang family would be registered after verification. Independent cultivators not on the roster would not be recruited; who knew if you would pack up all the harvested spirit rice and steal it?

Steward Zang pondered for a long time with his hands on his hips, not knowing what he was thinking. Liu Xiaolou blinked his eyes, waiting for his decision. After waiting for a long time, he finally received a reply: "Stay."

Liu Xiaolou was overjoyed and thanked him profusely. He watched Steward Zang leave with his hands on his hips and followed the headman to collect a sickle and a bamboo basket, in which some dry rations were piled.

Spirit rice was not ordinary rice, and harvesting spirit rice was not ordinary farm work. The rice ears were extremely spiritual and could sense danger, attacking the farmers harvesting them with the needles on the ears. Moreover, the stalks were tough, and ordinary farmers could not do the work, so they could only recruit cultivators as helpers. Even the sickle was specially crafted; it could not be called a magic treasure, but it could withstand slight shocks of true qi.

Once prepared, Liu Xiaolou followed the headman and walked along the perimeter of the spirit fields. The rogue cultivators helping in the fields were already working in full swing. Some were honestly using sickles to cut the ears, while others were using their own magic treasures to harvest them. There were even cultivators skilled in the Five Elements spells who were directly burning the rice stalks with flames, or using ice blades and water dragons to strike the rice ears, and so on. For a time, blade light crisscrossed over the spirit fields, and water and fire were like dragons, colorful and truly lively.

Following the headman past the spirit fields, they did not enter the fields but instead took a detour, going down from the north slope of the mountain hollow and leaving the spirit fields.

After walking two miles along the mountain path, Liu Xiaolou could not help but ask: "May I ask, headman, where are we..."

"Just follow."

"Yes."

After turning past a small hill, the view suddenly opened up. Below, one could overlook a mountain valley winding through the mountains; it was the West Valley of Eyang Mountain.

The valley was originally a lush forest, but at some point, rice paddies had been cleared out among the trees and shrubs, ranging from half a mu, one mu, two mu, to three mu, scattered in various sizes throughout the dense forest. There were also quite a few cultivators working hard in the fields; a rough scan showed at least twenty people.

At this point, Liu Xiaolou finally realized why Eyang Mountain had recruited more helpers than usual this year; they had cleared new fields, and the original number of workers was no longer enough.

"There are also remnants of spirit springs here?" he could not help but say in surprise.

The headman glared at him: "Don't ask too much, just do the work." He pointed to the valley below and said: "See that patch of forest? The old sandalwood forest... on the left! Beside that big rock at the foot of the mountain! See it? Good... follow the forest to the right until you reach the Upper Goose Creek, follow the creek south, see that shallow ditch?"

"The ditch full of wild flowers?"

"That's right, wild chrysanthemums. Up to this ditch, the thirty-eight spirit fields inside are all yours. It's been calculated; all together, big and small, they total seventy-eight point seven mu. You arrived two days late, so you only have seven days left. Can you finish harvesting?"

"No problem." Liu Xiaolou immediately expressed his determination.

The headman said: "The old rules still apply: hand in thirty catties of rice per mu, with the husks, and the rest is yours."

Liu Xiaolou hesitated: "This patch of spirit fields..."

The headman interrupted him: "The output will only be more, not less. Worry about how to finish harvesting on time. If you miss the season, you won't be able to afford the losses."

Liu Xiaolou nodded: "Don't worry, headman, I understand the rules."

He had to finish harvesting this subcontracted land within seven days and hand over two thousand three hundred and sixty-one catties of spirit rice with husks—the main family still had to select the spirit seeds. For every hundred catties short, he would have to compensate with one spirit stone; those without spirit stones would need to pay two hundred taels of silver. In fact, the spiritual power that could be refined into true qi after eating a hundred catties of spirit rice was far less than a spirit stone, at most half a stone, so when it really came to compensation, no one would ever use spirit stones to compensate, and they would usually choose to pay in silver.

Eyang Manor also knew that the independent cultivators who came to help could not afford spirit stones, so they allowed them to compensate with silver. How much of this was fake compensation and real purchase was a matter of opinion.

Time could not be wasted, so Liu Xiaolou immediately went down the mountain and soon arrived at the spirit fields assigned to him, starting work from the field on the far north end on the left.

This spirit field was about one point three mu in size. Liu Xiaolou took several pieces of cowhide from his bamboo basket and tied them to his ankles and wrists as simple protection to prevent being pricked by the awns of the ears. Then he stepped into the mud, picked up his sickle, and reached out with his left hand to grab the rice stalks.