"We're still short by more than one thousand four hundred spirit stones," someone concluded. "We'll have to ask the juniors to shoulder some of it as well. Mid-stage Qi Refinement contributes fifteen stones each, early-stage six stones. With the eighty-odd cultivators left, we can scrape together another four hundred or so."
"That still leaves a gap of roughly one thousand," Fifth Elder Chen Qingwan said. She was a top-grade first-rank artificer, and her tone was steady but tired. "I'll take on more artifact commissions. It won't be much—a few dozen stones a year—but it can help."
The words tugged at Chen Nianzhi's heart. Outside one's stipend, earning even a few dozen stones a year was no easy feat. For Chen Qingwan to promise that meant sacrificing her own cultivation time and pouring most of her efforts into the forge.
Fourth Elder Chen Qingyuan nodded. "I can do more spirit-herb transplants for others as well. It won't be a fortune, but it will help."
An uncle from the older "Chang" generation added, "Since Qingmeng failed his foundation, he shouldn't stay idle. Once he heals, have him refine pills each year. That will cover part of the shortfall."
In a few exchanges, several workable ideas emerged. With everyone tightening their belts and delaying stipends, they could likely fill that one-thousand-stone hole in a handful of years.For a while, no one spoke; the acceptance was bitter—but it was acceptance nonetheless.
At last, Third Elder Chen Qinghao exhaled, shoulders easing a fraction. "Plugging leaks isn't enough. We must also open new streams—increase revenue."
He glanced around the hall. "Linghu Isle is well-situated. We can try opening a few acres of spirit farmland on the central islet. With more fields growing spirit rice, our income will rise appreciably."
"That's a good plan." Heads lifted; eyes brightened.
Linghu Isle lay in a remote region and held a high-grade first-rank spirit vein, but few cultivators lived there to consume its aura. The surplus spiritual energy could easily sustain several new plots. The lake's water was exceptionally pure—good enough to raise spirit fish—so it should be ideal for cultivating herbs and rice.
Fifth Elder Chen Qingwan tempered the optimism. "Since Fourteenth Uncle died, there's no late-stage Qi Refinement stationed on Linghu Isle. We'll need to assign someone at that level to hold the formation."
"And new fields require a spirit farmer," she added. "But the Fourth Elder must continue tending the seventeen acres on Qingyuan Mountain."
Her gaze drifted, almost by instinct, to Chen Nianzhi.
Among the clan, aside from Fourth Elder Chen Qingyuan—a top-grade first-rank spirit-plant master—only Chen Nianzhi could barely be called a second. Of the many arts of cultivation, alchemy was the most coveted, followed by artificing, formations, and talismans. Spirit farming was less glamorous, but extremely rare and indispensable. High-grade herbs simply wouldn't survive transplanting without a skilled hand.
Chen Nianzhi knew the value of the auxiliary paths. In truth, what he most desired to learn was alchemy. But alchemy devoured resources. Without herbs to practice on, theory meant little, and the Chen Clan's stock of medicinal plants was precious. Nearly every harvest went straight into Sixth Elder Chen Qingmeng's furnace; there was no room for a youth to make costly mistakes.
Denied a cauldron, he had apprenticed himself to the Fourth Elder instead—learning spirit-plant lore, studying roots and fluids, gathering knowledge of herbal properties as a foundation for future alchemy.Unexpectedly, he had shown a knack for it. He was now a mid-grade first-rank spirit farmer—at his age, a rare talent.
A late-stage Qi Refinement cultivator and a trained spirit farmer—by every measure, Chen Nianzhi was the obvious choice to develop Linghu Isle.
As if reading the room, Third Elder Chen Qinghao turned to him.
"Nianzhi, I would not ordinarily send you down the mountain," he said. "But the clan is short-handed, and you can hold your own. Will you go to Linghu Isle?"
"Linghu Isle…" Chen Nianzhi considered.
The isle's high-grade spirit vein would easily sustain his cultivation. It was quiet and remote, protected by formations and far from prying eyes—perfect for refining the Hongmeng Violet Qi. In truth, it sounded like an excellent place to cultivate.
He nodded. "I'll go."
With that decided, the council drew to a close.
—
That night, Chen Nianzhi visited the residence of his Seventh Granduncle.The old man had awakened from his faint, but his breath was feeble, his face ashen and thin. He was clearly at the end of his strength.
Seeing the youth, the elder struggled to lift himself, then merely beckoned with a trembling hand.
Chen Nianzhi hurried to his side and clasped that hand—so cold it chilled the bone.
The old man gripped him tighter, eyes holding a mixture of reluctance to part and a quiet, aching hope.
"Little Nianzhi," he rasped, "I won't last much longer."
"I've saved one hundred twenty-three spirit stones over the years. I gave a hundred to the clan today. The remaining twenty-three—and these two talismans, and this Greenleaf Sword—I leave to you."
Chen Changqing had once been a prodigy—born with dual spiritual roots, reaching the ninth level of Qi Refinement at thirty-two. Of his generation, only the patriarch Chen Changxuan could match him.But fate had turned. During the Beast Calamity more than sixty years prior, the clan had lost two Foundation cultivators. Chen Changqing had been grievously wounded and missed his one chance at advancement; his cultivation had even fallen back to the eighth level.
After that, he set aside personal pursuit and dedicated himself to talisman-crafting for the clan, accumulating the modest wealth he now left behind. When the clan purchased the Foundation Pill last year, it was Chen Changqing who loaned them five hundred stones—no small sacrifice.
Now, with his mortal end upon him and no descendants with spiritual roots, he chose Chen Nianzhi as the heir to his modest legacy.
"Granduncle… I can't accept—" Chen Nianzhi began.
But the old man shook his head.
"Nianzhi, you were bright from the cradle—gifted beyond measure," he whispered."Perhaps you'll one day walk the immortal path. Perhaps even as a rogue cultivator, you might go farther than most."
"Even so, I hope you stay with the clan. Lend your strength to our blood."
His voice trembled.
"If the Chen Clan cannot endure—those hundreds of thousands of our mortal kin in Pingyang City will become food for heretics and beasts. They are our people."
"Granduncle…" Chen Nianzhi took the jade box with both hands, eyes burning.
The old man's love for the family ran bone-deep. He saw Chen Nianzhi as the clan's hope—the one who might walk the road he himself had missed, to shield the lineage and keep its fire alive.
Though twice-born, Chen Nianzhi felt the same pull—the stubborn thread of blood and duty that would not break.
Seeing the youth accept the box, Seventh Granduncle smiled faintly—and with that smile still on his lips, passed beyond.
His last words lingered in the quiet room:
"Nianzhi, remember our Chen family's ancestral precept—Pursue the Dao everlasting; honor the sages of our line.Aid one another to prosper; ascend to immortality divine."