“Is the Defense Array included?” This was what Chen Mo cared about most.

“Naturally!”

Chen Mo looked at him, his face feigning hesitation, though inwardly he was cursing the man’s ancestors. Sixty taels was neither too much nor too little—it was exactly the amount he had left over after selling his grain two days ago. It was obvious the other party wanted to bleed him dry. Whether it was rebuilding the wooden cabin or setting up a chicken coop, these tasks could easily be handled by craftsmen from the Mortal Realm. Added up, they probably wouldn’t even cost a few pieces of silver.

But now? In other words, a single combined Defense Array was going to cost him sixty taels of Spiritual Sand! That price was sky-high! It would only be reasonable if it were cut in half.

“Well… Shopkeeper Wei, from the sixty taels of Spiritual Sand I had left two days ago, I bought twelve Fasting Pills. Plus, I still need resources for my Cultivation. Do you think you could give me a discount?” He couldn’t afford to be a sucker right now.

The man was clearly a little displeased. “A discount? Just tell me, how much Spiritual Sand do you have?”

Chen Mo took the sachet from his chest, which contained thirty taels of Spiritual Sand. “This is all I have.”

“Forty taels, I can’t go any lower!”

“Then forget it.” Chen Mo spread his hands, adopting a helpless expression.

After some back-and-forth haggling, it ended with Wei Wuwei compromising and accepting thirty taels of Spiritual Sand for the cabin renovation project. It was just like a relationship; whoever needed the Spiritual Sand more was the one more likely to yield. Chen Mo didn’t care. At worst, he would just raise fewer Spirit Chickens!

The two finalized the details and decided to rebuild on the original site of Chen Mo’s cabin. Now, he had two choices: either stay in the Marketplace or move into another wooden cabin.

Logically, Wei Wuwei assumed he would choose the former, but unexpectedly, Chen Mo chose to stay in another cabin. This cabin was very close to his original residence, practically facing it across the Spirit Fields. After gaining access permission, Chen Mo finally pushed open the door he used to knock on so often a few years ago.

That’s right! This room originally belonged to Wang Lixia. The elderly Cultivator was the first Spirit Plant Cultivator to lend him a helping hand after he crossed over to this world. In the end, however, she died in an Immortal Cave Mansion while seeking a way to prolong her life.

Upon entering, he found it as completely empty as his own room. Yet, compared to Chen Mo’s casual and simple setup, her room felt more lived-in. On the wooden bed facing the door, the once-red mattress had faded to white, and the kettle on the table was coated with verdigris. Along the corner sat three flower pots, the plants inside thoroughly withered.

As early as three years ago, Chen Mo had secretly promised her that he would erect a cenotaph in her memory. However, once her Spirit Field fell under Xiao Changhua’s ownership, he had to put the idea on hold. Now that he had finally entered this room, he intended to fulfill that old wish.

Although Wang Lixia was old, she had kept her life meticulously organized and was someone who truly loved living. Chen Mo took a few Cyan Daoist Robes hanging on the wall and placed them on the bed. He dug out the rest of her clothes from a wooden chest at the head of the bed, then bundled them all up in the bedding. Just as he was about to store the bundle into his Storage Ring, a delicate Jade Box, about half a foot square, suddenly fell out.

“What’s this?” Chen Mo was a bit surprised, but unable to suppress his curiosity, he placed the Jade Box on the table. After pondering for a moment, he chose to open it.

Instantly, a crystal-clear light sparkled from within. Jewelry! Bracelets, necklaces, pendants, and more. Chen Mo recognized at a glance that these were Mortal Realm accessories. Seeing them, he couldn’t help but smile. No matter how old someone was, they had all been young once, right?

The moment he closed the lid, he caught a vague glimpse of paper at the bottom of the Jade Box from the corner of his eye. With a SNAP, he opened it again. Reaching inside, he indeed found an ancient text hidden beneath the box of jewelry! With a RUSTLE, Chen Mo pulled it out.

The ancient text was only a little over half a finger thick. The cover had completely yellowed and gave off a musty smell. Opening it, he saw the name “Wang Lixia” written in elegant handwriting on the title page. Chen Mo flipped through it casually. It wasn’t the secret Cultivation Technique or Magic manual he had hoped for; instead, it was filled with Wang Lixia’s insights on farming and Cultivation gathered over the years.

Skimming through it, he didn’t find much useful information. However, one entry caught his attention.

[Pestilence, Pestilence]

[The pestilence is actually a conspiracy. It is a plot by Purple Cloud Peak—oh, no, by the Cyan Yang Sect—to control Spirit Plant Cultivators.]

[According to my observations, this so-called ‘great disaster once every ten years’ sweeps across the entire Cyan Yang Sect. Based on the timeline…]

Chen Mo’s frown deepened as he read on. Wang Lixia theorized that the so-called pestilence wasn’t a natural disaster at all, but a man-made calamity! She had observed it for many years, and although “ten” was a generalization, there was definitely a pattern. Within a span of ten years, these Drunken Aphids would sweep through all the Tier One Spirit Fields in the Cyan Yang Sect. A ten-year cycle, repeating endlessly.

Naturally, Wang Lixia couldn’t share this theory with anyone. She knew very well that if word got out, it would undoubtedly bring a fatal disaster upon her. Thus, she could only write it down in her farming journal. After reading it, Chen Mo let out a sigh. Perhaps this was her greatest source of helplessness. She clearly knew the pestilence was a man-made plot by the Cyan Yang Sect to control the Spirit Plant Cultivators, yet for the sake of survival, she had no choice but to toil in the wilderness year after year.

“Conspiracy, a conspiracy,” Chen Mo laughed self-deprecatingly.

Even if he knew it was a conspiracy, what could he do about it? Other than doing his best to protect himself during the pestilence, could he really risk his life fighting those Great Powers at the Foundation Establishment Realm? He sighed. Just like Wang Lixia had done, he buried this secret deep in his heart.

He then bundled the Jade Box together with the cloth sack, planning to bury them both in the cenotaph. Chen Mo walked out the door and headed into the woods along the path to the Marketplace. The area retained a pristine appearance, the land entirely uncultivated, likely due to an inadequate Spirit Vein. Finding a secluded spot, he dug a large pit and dumped all of Wang Lixia’s personal belongings inside. He then whittled a wooden marker and used Cinnabar as ink to write down: “Tomb of my good friend, Wang Lixia.”

He left no signature. Chen Mo knew that ultimately, it would be ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Unless one achieved immortality, death and fading away were everyone’s final destination.

Having fulfilled a wish, Chen Mo suddenly felt much lighter. He returned to the cabin and brought his four Spirit Chickens in from the field before dark. Taking out a single meditation cushion, he sat cross-legged and began to cultivate. Realm and immortality—these were a Cultivator’s lifelong pursuits.

The next day.

Chen Mo’s small wooden cabin was demolished. A group of craftsmen, brought in from who-knows-where, were bustling with activity—some chopping wood, others laying bricks. Even though winter had already set in, they braved the cold to carry on. They worked incredibly fast. In less than a month, a brick-and-wood house three or four times larger than his previous one rose from the ground!

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