Path of the Sect Leader

Chapter 88: Huang Shaoneng Talks Farming

Lessons from Kan Lin still buzzed in Qi Xiu’s head as he raced toward Artifact Talisman City. Spring loomed; fields wouldn’t wait for dawdlers.

The alliance kept a whole building for these odd jobs. Inside, a cavernous hall lined with massive wooden boards—postings nailed up like wanted notices. Guests clerks shuffled between them, matching needs to hands.

Qi Xiu followed Kan Lin’s advice: handed over the hollow’s details, hiring terms, a deposit, and the broker’s cut. Watched the clerk pin it fresh on the board. Done. Now wait for bites.

Killing time, he wandered the listings. Spirit planting gigs were the bread-and-butter stuff—cheap labor, really. A Qi Refining hand for a year barely scraped one third-tier stone. No wonder loose cultivators like Yu Denou and Bai Muhan scraped by so lean down here.

Other postings veered stranger: fetch poison petals from some death trap, scout unmapped caves, muscle for a skirmish. Vague wording, coded phrases—outsiders caught only shadows.

One caught his eye: “Humble daughter’s wedding seeks Foundation Establishment elder to grace the occasion. Terms negotiable.”

Qi Xiu snorted. White mountains oddities—renting a Foundation expert to play prestige prop.

“Qi Xiu, your man’s here.”

The clerk returned with company. Qi Xiu turned—and nearly laughed again. Spirit planter, sure, but did the guy have to dress the part down to the dirt?

Sixty-something, rough hemp tunic and shorts like any mortal farmer. Hands thick with calluses, palms broad as shovels. Honest face, though. Qi Xiu liked the look.

They haggled quick. One year in the hollow: one Foundation Establishment pill from Chu Qin’s side.

Huang Shaoneng—late Qi Refining, mid-grade spirit planter registered with the alliance. Pricier for it. Those pills traded heavier here than back north—around a hundred twenty second-tier stones. But the old codger didn’t just weed; he read qi flows, picked crops smart. Exactly the lifeline Qi Xiu needed.

First glimpse of the hollow’s ravaged grounds hit Huang like a gut punch. He knelt in the dirt, fingers brushing torn stumps, face twisted in genuine grief—as if the land were his own blood.

“Ruined,” he muttered. “Roots still cling underground. They’ll choke anything new. Whole plot needs turning before spring sowing. Best with earth-rooted hands—I’ll teach a flipping technique. Spellwork beats shovels every time.”

Qi Xiu summoned Zhang Shishi and Yu Jing—both earth-aligned. Huang drilled them in the art. Simple enough; an hour’s practice and they were churning soil like pros.

Satisfied, the old man moved to the first-tier fields. “Artificial qi draw, right? Weaker than natural. Low-grade grains and herbs only. What’s the sect leader thinking to plant?”

Qi Xiu shrugged. “Whatever grew here before. Stick to the old crop—safe play.”

Huang shook his head, eager to flex. New hire, new chance to shine.

“You don’t know the last owners botched it. Sunny slope like this? That old spirit grain would leaf out pretty, sure, but kernels stay puny. Whole year’s haul—maybe five third-tier stones if lucky. Backbreaking for peanuts.”

Five stones? Qi Xiu winced inside. Their old pig-and-fish scam in Black River’s muck pulled more, even with Zhao’s favoritism. Time to eat humble pie.

He leaned in, earnest. “Teach me.”

Huang stroked his beard, pleased.

“Ditch grain. Plant paper grass—first-tier Yang Talisman Grass. Prime feed for fire and light talisman paper. Tough as weeds, loves sun like this slope. Cut it like leeks—multiple harvests a year. Beats single-season grain hands down. Close to the alliance too; they devour raw materials. Never short buyers.”

Qi Xiu nodded along, mind already tallying profit.

They strolled to the second-tier grounds.

“This patch demands finesse,” Huang warned, tone sharpening. “Second-tier plants—perennials mostly. Delicate. Overplant one kind and they fight for qi; everybody starves. Need balance—root depths, shade, warmth. I’ll study a few days before deciding.”

Qi Xiu gave full rein.

Huang watched Zhang and Yu Jing churn earth—earnest but clumsy. He rolled up sleeves and dove in himself. No cultivator vanity; just raw efficiency. Progress tripled. The sect watched, humbled—professional pride in callused hands.

Two days flat, soil turned.

A few more, and Huang produced a meticulous chart: crop placements, care schedules, harvest cycles, rotations. Precise as a formation diagram.

“Your second-tier’s messy—huts scattered everywhere. Kills uniformity. So we work around terrain: three grasses, two flowers, one bamboo.

“Those huts ruin sunlight and shade balance. Cultivators inside sip qi from nearby plants. Fix: ring them with first-tier Overlord Bamboo. No yield, but locks qi, regulates flow. Shields practice without starving the fields. Creates real shade pockets too.

“In those shadows: second-tier premium Ice Cup Flowers and mid first-tier Mysterious Yin Grass—seven grass to one flower. Different root zones. Yin Grass boosts local chill; Cup Flowers bloom richer.

“Sunny spots: mid second-tier Wood Sunflowers and premium first-tier Ginseng—one-to-one. Ginseng thrives underground in sunflower shade; sunflowers stretch skyward. Perfect pair, dense planting, max land use.

“Edges and corners: mid first-tier Wolf Poison Grass. Toxic—keeps pests out, guards the rest.”

He rattled off yields like a merchant quoting stock.

“Mysterious Yin Grass—annual, one plant a second-tier stone. Replant quick.

“Ice Cup Flowers—seven years. Priceless. One bloom a third-tier stone; three to seven per stalk. Fragile—needs constant babysitting.

“Wood Sunflowers—three years. Single massive bud per plant; two or three swap for a third-tier.

“Ginseng—flexible. Dig at five years, ten, fifty, whatever. Older, pricier. Low maintenance; leave it growing. Emergency fund buried in dirt. Every sect keeps some—legacy for the kids.

“Wolf Poison—twice yearly, edges Yang Talisman Grass in price. Poison talisman feedstock.”

Qi Xiu and the others stared, awestruck. All those intricate balances—who knew dirt held such secrets? Back in old Chu Qin days, abundant land meant blanket planting. No finesse required.

“One talk with you beats ten years of books.”

Qi Xiu bowed deep, gratitude raw and real.