Actually, Vermilion Blood Spirit Rice was not something that should have appeared in a remote place like this.
As I walked through the narrow path between the fields, my thoughts lingered on that fact again and again.
The wind brushed past my ears, carrying the familiar scent of damp soil and young crops.
Vermilion Blood Rice was a Tier 2 spirit crop, but its value far exceeded what that simple classification suggested.
Unlike Jade Spirit Rice, which was cultivated by countless low-level sects and villages to replenish qi, Vermilion Blood Rice nourished qi and blood simultaneously.
It was one of the main resources for body cultivators.
Its grains were saturated with condensed vitality and blood energy drawn from both the spiritual veins of the earth and irrigation of yao beast blood.
To cultivators who walked the orthodox qi path, it was useful.
To body cultivators, it was priceless.
Each grain strengthened muscles, reinforced bones, tempered organs, and refined blood essence.
When consumed regularly, it could gradually alter a mortal body's limits, preparing it for harsher cultivation techniques but excess consumption tears flesh apart.
That was precisely why it was dangerous.
Blood-based nourishment resources were volatile.
Without a sufficiently stable environment, the rice would wither, mutate, or outright die.
Even worse, if grown improperly, it could accumulate chaotic blood energy that harmed the consumer instead of strengthening them.
The risk of qi deviation or body corruption was very real for anyone foolish enough to consume poorly cultivated Vermilion Blood Rice.
And yet, here I was.
Growing it.
On a Tier 1 medium-grade spirit vein.
I let out a slow breath, shaking my head at my own audacity.
Madness. Absolute madness.
Normally, Vermilion Blood Rice required at least a Tier 2 spirit vein to grow properly.
Some sects even constructed artificial yao beast blood pools beneath or around their fields to make the seeds sprout and stabilize its growth which will ensure the blood energy remained pure.
I had none of that.
What I did have was a Spirit Gathering Formation plate borrowed from Old Han, and the system's reward.
The formation beneath my field did not forcefully pull spiritual energy like some aggressive arrays might.
Instead, it gathered it slowly, subtly, like water seeping into dry earth.
Over time, the concentration within that one mu of land will surpass what it should have been capable of sustaining naturally.
On the surface, everything remained ordinary.
Beneath the soil, however, spiritual energy circulated endlessly, nourishing every root and grain with meticulous care.
Even so, this was still a gamble.
A dangerous one.
Ultimately, the Rapid Growth Card had played a major role in making the seeds sprout successfully in the first place.
If the sect envoy or high-level cultivators had ever noticed even a hint of abnormality...
The thought made my stomach clench involuntarily.
I wouldn't just lose the crop.
I might lose everything.
Even worse, they would arrest me, drag me before their elders, and perform a forceful soul search to extract every secret I possessed.
The robe's concealment effect could hide my cultivation level, but it couldn't protect me from direct interrogation techniques.
That thought made my steps slow unconsciously.
I glanced at the surrounding fields, at the low wooden fences enclosing them, at the distant silhouettes of village houses visible in the fading light.
Everything looked peaceful.
Ordinary.
Safe.
And that was exactly why I had to be careful, why I had to maintain this peace at all costs.
I could not afford to draw attention.
Not yet.
Not until I was strong enough to protect myself and what was mine.
One step at a time. Build strength first, accumulate power quietly, then worry about the rest.
By the time my house came into view, the moon was already hovering in the sky, casting silver light across the dirt path and courtyard.
From afar, I noticed a small figure standing stiffly at the entrance like a tiny sentinel.
Mo Fan.
He was holding a wooden stick with both hands, his knuckles white from gripping it too tightly.
His feet were planted firmly apart in a combat stance he must have seen adults use, eyes alert and scanning the darkness, posture rigid and tense.
Like a miniature guard standing watch over a fortress gate, taking his self-assigned duty with utmost seriousness.
I stopped for a brief moment, observing him.
This kid...
Then I sighed deeply and quickened my pace toward the house.
As I approached, he noticed me immediately and straightened even more, if that was possible, as if afraid I might think him lazy or inattentive to his duties.
"What are you doing out here, Mo Fan?" I asked gently, crouching slightly so my eyes were level with his.
"I'm protecting the house!" he replied immediately, his young voice deadly serious and full of determination.
"Protecting it from what, exactly?" I asked, trying hard not to smile at his earnestness.
"From danger! From bad people! From anything that might hurt Grandfather or Mo Ling!" he said without hesitation, his young face set in grim determination that seemed far too heavy for someone his age.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment, feeling a mix of affection and concern.
This kid... I just told him to stay home and help out, trying to make him relax and shift his focus away from constantly worrying.
But instead, he took it as a solemn mission, a sacred duty to fulfill.
He was trying too hard, pushing himself beyond what any child should.
Ever since he and Mo Ling had arrived at the house, rescued from their desperate situation, Mo Fan had become overly serious about everything.
As if the world might collapse if he relaxed for even a moment, if he failed to prove his worth.
It was his way of repaying gratitude, of showing he deserved the kindness we'd shown him and his sister.
I reached out and gently took the stick from his trembling hands.
"There's no danger tonight, Mo Fan," I said calmly, my voice soft and reassuring.
"And even if there were, that's something adults worry about and handle. Not children. You're only five years old."
He hesitated, looking down at his now-empty hands, clearly conflicted.
Then he slowly loosened his rigid stance, his shoulders sagging slightly.
I smiled faintly and ruffled his hair affectionately, messing up the neat style he'd carefully combed earlier.
"Come on," I said warmly. "Get inside. I'll make something especially good to eat tonight. Something you'll really like."
His eyes widened instantly, all the tension and seriousness draining from his small body in a heartbeat.
"Really? Something good? What will you make?" he asked, hope and excitement filling his voice, the serious little guard vanishing to reveal the child underneath.
"Yes, really. It's a surprise, but you'll love it," I assured him.
"Then I need to wash my hands first! Right away!" he shouted enthusiastically, turning and running inside so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet and had to catch himself on the doorframe.
I watched him go, a quiet warmth spreading through my chest like gentle sunlight.
This life. This simple, ordinary life filled with these small, precious moments.
It was fragile. So very fragile. Like a soap bubble that could burst with the slightest touch.
But it felt good surrounded by people and it was worth protecting that little girl.
And as I stepped through the doorway into the warm glow of lamplight and the sounds of children's laughter, I made a silent promise to myself.
A vow more binding than any oath sworn before heaven.
No matter how far I went on the path of cultivation, no matter what heights of power I might reach, I would never let this peace be taken from me.
Never.
I would protect this warmth with everything I had, even if it meant facing the entire cultivation world.
[Well, let's see how long you can maintain that ideal,] I heard a voice echo in my mind.
It was from the system, carrying that familiar mocking, skeptical tone it always used.
"I will," I replied quietly, so softly that no one else could hear, my jaw set with iron determination.
"I'll prove you wrong. Just watch."
I heard Mo Fan's excited voice echoing from inside the house.
"Grandpa! Big Brother Shen is back! And he says he's making something really good tonight!"
I smiled and stepped fully inside, closing the door behind me, ready to make good on my promise.
Mo Fan had already rushed toward the wash basin like a tiny whirlwind, splashing water absolutely everywhere as he scrubbed his hands far more vigorously than any task actually required.
Water flew in all directions, soaking the floor around him and his sleeves, creating a small puddle.
Mo Ling sat on a small wooden stool nearby, her short legs swinging idly back and forth, watching her brother's exaggerated cleaning ritual with bright curiosity and barely contained amusement.
"Brother is so silly," she said in her cute, high-pitched voice, giggling behind her small hands.
Mo Fan shot her a fierce glare over his shoulder, water dripping from his chin.
"It's not silly! It's proper etiquette! Big Brother Shen taught me that cleanliness is important!"
His indignant tone only made Mo Ling giggle harder, her small body shaking with laughter.
I chuckled quietly at their interaction and walked past them toward the inner room where Grandfather usually spent his evenings.
Grandfather was sitting in his favorite spot near the window, the moonlight streaming through and outlining his weathered figure in a soft, cool glow that made him look almost ethereal.
He held an old carving tool in his gnarled hands, his fingers moving slowly and carefully as he inspected a worn edge with the practiced eye of a craftsman.
His posture was relaxed and comfortable, but the deep lines on his face spoke volumes about years of quiet endurance, of hardships faced and overcome with dignity.
When he noticed me enter, he set the tool aside carefully on the small table.
"You're back earlier than usual tonight," he observed, his voice calm but his eyes sharp and observant as always.
I nodded and moved closer to sit across from him.
"Finished what I needed to do at the fields. Everything's progressing well."
He studied my expression for a long moment, his gaze searching, then asked carefully, "The fields... everything fine? No problems with the crops?"
"Yes, Grandfather," I replied honestly. "They're growing exceptionally well. Better than expected, actually."
That wasn't a lie.
Just not the complete truth.
There was no need to burden him with details about Tier 2 spirit crops or the risks I was taking.
Grandfather seemed satisfied with that answer, nodding slowly.
He poured a cup of warm water from a clay pot and pushed it toward me across the low table between us.
"Sit properly," he said gently. "You've been running around too much these past days. Rest for a moment."
I accepted the cup gratefully and sat down properly, feeling some of the day's tension drain away.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Outside, Mo Fan's exaggerated scrubbing continued with splashing sounds, accompanied by Mo Ling's soft giggles that sounded like wind chimes in the breeze.
Then Grandfather spoke again, his voice casual but his eyes impossibly sharp and penetrating.
"You seem... different lately. Changed somehow."
I paused mid-sip, my fingers tightening slightly around the warm cup.
"Different how, Grandfather?" I asked carefully, keeping my voice neutral.
He thought for a moment, choosing his words with care.
"More... at ease with yourself. More settled. Before, even when you smiled or laughed, it felt like you were holding something back. Like you were carrying a weight no one else could see or help with."
I lowered my gaze to the gently steaming water in my cup.
So he noticed the change in me.
Of course he did.
This old man had raised me from early childhood. He had watched every subtle shift in my mood and demeanor over the years.
There was absolutely no point in pretending otherwise or trying to hide it from his experienced eyes.
"I've found a direction forward, Grandfather," I said finally, meeting his eyes directly.
"A path I can walk with confidence. Something to work toward."
Grandfather didn't press for details or demand explanations.
He never did.
That was one of the things I appreciated most about him.
"That's good," he said instead, nodding with satisfaction and a hint of relief.
"That's very good, Shen Yuan. A man without direction or purpose walks faster than others, but inevitably ends up nowhere meaningful. Purpose gives meaning to the journey."
I smiled faintly at the familiar old saying, one he'd told me many times growing up.
After a short pause, I continued, my voice becoming more serious and formal.
"Grandfather... I'm going to cultivate seriously tonight. Enter deep cultivation."
His hand stilled completely, the cup halfway to his lips, frozen in place.
This time, his gaze sharpened noticeably, becoming intense and focused.
"Tonight? Right now?" he asked carefully.
"Yes. As soon as dinner is finished."
"That's not particularly unusual," he said slowly, setting down his cup.
"But you sound... different. More certain. More determined than before."
I met his eyes directly, letting him see my resolve.
"If nothing major happens, Grandfather," I said, choosing each word with deliberate precision, "please don't disturb me. No matter what sounds you might hear from my room."
The room grew quiet.
Heavy with unspoken implications.
Grandfather looked at me for a long, searching moment, long enough that I wondered if perhaps I had said too much, revealed too much of my intentions.
Finally, he nodded once, slowly and seriously.
"I understand completely," he said gravely, his voice carrying weight.
"If you say that much, make that specific request, then it must be truly important. Critical, even. I'll make absolutely sure the children don't disturb you for any reason."
I exhaled quietly, grateful beyond words for his understanding and trust.
This was different from all my previous cultivation attempts.
Before, my efforts had been hesitant, experimental, more hope than genuine confidence.
Interruptions hadn't mattered much because failure was expected, even anticipated.
But this time was completely different.
Tonight, I was stepping into soul cultivation for the first time.
Entering the mysterious mind space to forge my soul weapon.
And that required absolute, unwavering concentration without any external disturbances that could prove fatal.
Just then, Mo Fan came running back inside, his hands still dripping wet, leaving a trail of water droplets across the wooden floor.
"I'm ready now! All clean!" he announced proudly, standing at rigid attention like a little soldier awaiting orders.
Mo Ling followed behind him, clapping her small hands together enthusiastically.
"Mo Ling is hungry! Very hungry! Want to eat!" she declared.
I stood up from my seat, setting aside the empty cup.
"Then sit down properly at the table," I said, lightly tapping Mo Fan's damp head.
"And absolutely no fighting with your sister during dinner. Understand?"
"Yes, Big Brother Shen! I understand completely!" Mo Fan replied enthusiastically, immediately sitting up ramrod straight as a board, his posture absurdly formal for a child his age.
Mo Ling giggled at her brother's seriousness and climbed onto her own seat, still swinging her little legs.
As I moved toward the kitchen area to begin preparing the evening meal, Grandfather spoke again behind me, his voice softer than before, carrying a note of gentle warning.
"Whatever path you choose to walk in future, Yuan'er," he said quietly, his words carefully measured, "always remember this, strength and power are meant to protect what you cherish, not to isolate you from the world. Don't lose sight of what truly matters in pursuit of cultivation."
I stopped in my tracks and turned back to face him, bowing my head slightly in acknowledgment.
"I won't forget, Grandfather," I said sincerely, meaning every word.
"I promise you that. The people I care about will always come first."
Dinner that evening was relatively simple, just a hearty meat dish with a rich noddle soup, but it was warm and filling and made with care.
The aroma filled our small house, driving away the evening chill and creating an atmosphere of comfort and home.
Mo Ling kept enthusiastically asking for more servings, her bowl emptying faster than I could refill it, her appetite seemingly endless.
Mo Fan tried valiantly to eat politely and maintain proper table manners at first, but failed halfway through when the food proved too delicious to resist, abandoning etiquette in favor of enjoying the meal.
Grandfather watched them both eat with an expression that mixed genuine amusement and quiet relief, as if seeing them so happy and well-fed brought him deep peace.
For one perfect moment, everything felt complete.
Whole.
Like this was exactly where we were all meant to be.
When the meal finally ended and the children were distracted with small cleaning chores, washing dishes and wiping down the table as they'd been taught, I stood up and made my announcement.
"I'm going to my room now," I said clearly. "I'll be starting cultivation."
Mo Fan froze mid-motion, a cloth in his hand, his eyes going wide.
"Right now? Immediately?" he asked, surprise clear in his young voice.
"Yes. Right now."
He hesitated for just a moment, then nodded firmly, his face becoming deadly serious again.
"Then I'll keep watch outside your door! I won't let anyone disturb you!"
I sighed inwardly but didn't argue with his determination.
It would be useless anyway.
"That's not necessary, Mo Fan. Grandfather will take care of everything out here. You just need to focus on doing one important thing for me," I said mysteriously.
Mo Fan's ears perked up immediately, practically vibrating with excitement and anticipation as he waited to hear what critical task I would assign him.
"What is it? I'll do anything!" he declared.
"Sleep properly. Get a full night's rest."
"Ah?" His face fell comically, disappointment written across every feature.
"Go to bed early tonight, kid," I said more gently, ruffling his hair affectionately.
"Growing children need their sleep."
"...Okay," he replied reluctantly, his shoulders sagging with visible disappointment at being given such a mundane task.
Mo Ling burst out laughing at seeing her brother's dejected expression, pointing at him and giggling uncontrollably.
Embarrassed and indignant, Mo Fan immediately chased after her in mock anger.
They ran through the small hall, their footsteps echoing, their laughter filling the house with warmth and life.
I turned to Grandfather one final time and bowed slightly, showing proper respect.
"I'll be relying on you tonight, Grandfather," I said seriously.
He waved his weathered hand dismissively, but his eyes were kind.
"Go and cultivate. Don't worry about anything happening out here. I'll handle everything."
And so, without further ceremony or delay, I walked to my room.
Stepped inside the small, familiar space.
Closed the door firmly behind me with a soft click.
And sat down in the center of the room.
The world outside fell silent, or perhaps I simply stopped hearing it, my mind already beginning to turn inward.
My room was small and simple, wooden walls on all sides, a low table against one wall, a straw mat spread on the floor, and a simple bed in the corner.
But at this moment, it felt strangely distant, as if I had stepped into a completely different world, separate from everything outside.
I sat down cross-legged on the mat with practiced ease, spine perfectly straight and aligned, hands resting naturally on my knees in the traditional cultivation posture I'd learned.
I did not rush into the process immediately.
That would be foolish and potentially dangerous.
Soul cultivation was not something one entered with excitement or impatience or reckless abandon.
It demanded absolute calm, infinite patience, and complete control over one's thoughts and emotions.
A scattered or agitated mind was the fastest way to invite disaster, to damage the very soul one was attempting to cultivate and strengthen.
I exhaled slowly and deliberately.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Only when my heartbeat had settled into a steady, rhythmic pattern, when my breathing had become deep and even, did I finally reach into my inventory space.
A small, unassuming leather pouch appeared in my hand, materializing from thin air.
Inside it rested the jade slip containing the Divine Soul Nourishing Art, my parent's final and most precious gift to me.