Published at 23rd of September 2024 9:58 am

Chapter 7: Seeds of Power

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The early morning sun filtered through the cracks in the wooden shutters, casting long streaks of light across the small room. Wei Long stirred, feeling the weight of the previous night’s study still lingering in his muscles. His body was sore, but his mind was sharp, clearer than it had been in days.

He had spent hours refining his spiritual energy, practicing the techniques from the cultivation manual. Though his progress was slow, it was steady. He could feel the energy in his body responding to his control, coiling and uncoiling like a sleeping dragon ready to be awakened.

Today, however, his focus shifted. There was more to cultivation than just meditation and energy refinement. His thoughts drifted to the townspeople, to the mayor’s warnings, and to the broader world he had yet to explore. If he wanted to survive—and thrive—he needed resources. And that meant thinking beyond just cultivation.

Wei Long packed his few belongings and left the inn, making his way toward the outskirts of the town. The air was crisp, and the sounds of daily life were already stirring in the streets—blacksmiths hammering at their forges, merchants shouting their wares, and children laughing as they played by the river. But Wei Long’s attention was elsewhere.

Farming.

It wasn’t glamorous, but it was the foundation of life in this town, and it was something he had seen his family do for years back in the village. More importantly, farming could be a valuable resource for cultivating spiritual energy. Certain crops, when grown and harvested with care, could be used to strengthen a cultivator’s core, enhance focus, or even accelerate healing.

Wei Long had seen these crops sold at outrageous prices in the markets. Some herbs were so rare that only the wealthiest sects could afford to use them regularly. But here, in this fertile land, with the right knowledge, he could grow them himself. He could turn his need for resources into an opportunity.

As Wei Long reached the fields just outside of town, he found himself in a wide, open space where the soil was dark and rich. The farmers were already hard at work, tending to their crops, pulling weeds, and watering the earth. Their hands were calloused, their faces weathered, but there was a quiet dignity in their movements, a rhythm to their work that reminded him of his childhood.

Approaching one of the older farmers, Wei Long bowed respectfully. “Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for a place to start a small farm. Do you know where I might find a plot of land?”

The farmer paused, wiping sweat from his brow as he looked Wei Long up and down. His eyes were sharp, but there was no hostility in them—just curiosity.

“A young cultivator looking to farm? That’s not something you see every day,” the farmer said, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But I reckon I know a place. The old plot by the riverbank, a little ways south of here. No one’s used it in years, but the soil’s still good. You’d just have to clear out the weeds.”

Wei Long nodded, feeling a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him. “Thank you,” he said, bowing again. “I’ll head there right away.”

The farmer chuckled. “Good luck, boy. Farming’s hard work, but it’ll pay off if you stick with it.”

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The plot by the riverbank was exactly as the farmer had described—a wide stretch of land, overgrown with tall weeds and wild grass, but the soil beneath was soft and rich. The river flowed lazily nearby, providing a steady source of water, and the sun bathed the area in warmth.

Wei Long rolled up his sleeves and got to work. For hours, he cleared the weeds, dug into the soil, and prepared the land for planting. His body ached from the labor, but there was something deeply satisfying about the physical work. It grounded him, balanced the intense mental focus of cultivation. By the time the sun hung low in the sky, the plot was ready.

The next step was finding the right seeds.

Wei Long returned to the marketplace, scanning the stalls for anything that could help him. Most of the vendors sold ordinary crops—rice, vegetables, herbs—but it was a small shop in the far corner of the market that caught his eye. The sign above the shop read “Herbalist and Rare Seeds,” and the faint smell of dried herbs wafted from inside.

Stepping into the shop, Wei Long was greeted by an elderly woman with a hunched back and sharp eyes that gleamed with the wisdom of many years. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of herbs, dried plants, and strange-looking seeds that he had never seen before.

“Looking for something special, young one?” the old woman asked, her voice soft but clear.

Wei Long nodded. “I’ve started a small farm by the river. I need seeds that can help with cultivation. Something that can strengthen spiritual energy, or maybe speed up healing.”

The old woman smiled knowingly and motioned for him to follow her. She led him to the back of the shop, where a collection of small pouches sat neatly arranged on a table. “These are rare seeds,” she explained, picking up a pouch and handing it to Wei Long. “They require careful tending, but they will reward you with crops that can enhance your cultivation. This one, for example, is a Silverleaf Ginseng. When matured, it can be brewed into a tonic that strengthens your core.”

Wei Long examined the pouch, feeling the weight of the seeds inside. They were small, but they pulsed with a faint energy, almost as if they were alive.

“How much?” he asked, already bracing himself for the cost.

“For you, young cultivator, I’ll offer a fair price,” the old woman said with a wink. “Fifty silver for this pouch. It’s enough to plant a small crop, but be careful. Silverleaf is sensitive to changes in the environment. You’ll need to nurture it with both patience and care.”

Fifty silver was a significant portion of his reward from the mayor, but Wei Long knew it would be worth it. He handed over the coins and accepted the pouch, thanking the old woman before heading back to the riverbank.

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Over the next several days, Wei Long dedicated himself to cultivating both his land and his spiritual energy. He planted the Silverleaf Ginseng, carefully following the old woman’s instructions. He spent hours each day tending to the soil, ensuring that the plants received enough water and sunlight. As he worked, he could feel a connection growing between himself and the land, a bond that strengthened his own cultivation.

In the evenings, Wei Long continued to meditate, focusing on refining the energy within him. He could feel the changes happening slowly but surely. His body was growing stronger, his mind clearer, and his control over his energy more precise. The cultivation manual had provided him with the tools, but the hard work of farming had given him the discipline to wield them.

One morning, as he checked on the Silverleaf Ginseng, Wei Long noticed something unusual. The plants had begun to glow faintly, their leaves shimmering with a silvery light. He knelt beside them, touching one of the leaves gently, and felt a surge of energy course through him.

The crops were maturing faster than he had expected.

Wei Long smiled, a sense of accomplishment washing over him. The old woman had been right—these plants were special. But more than that, he had found a way to harness the power of nature itself, to grow stronger not just through combat or meditation, but through careful cultivation of the world around him.

This was only the beginning. With the right resources and knowledge, Wei Long knew he could cultivate not just himself, but an entire empire of power.

As he stood by the riverbank, watching the sun rise over the hills, Wei Long’s mind turned to the future. The world beyond this town still called to him, full of danger and opportunity. But now, he had something more than just strength.

He had the seeds of power, and he was ready to plant them.

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