Spirit stones.

  At first glance, spirit stones were simple things, condensed spiritual energy formed naturally within the earth, used as currency, cultivation aids, or fuel for formations. Every cultivator knew that much.

  But Ning had learned long ago that in cultivation, simplicity was often a lie.

  He pulled out a thin book he found in the scripture pavilion.

  "On the Classification and Nature of Spirit Stones."

  Perfect.

  Flipping it open, Ning leaned against a pillar and began reading.

  Spirit stones were divided into grades, low, middle, high, and top grade, based on purity, density, and stability of the spiritual energy contained within them.

  Low-grade stones leaked energy quickly and were mostly used for day-to-day transactions. Middle-grade stones were rarer, more stable, and often reserved for cultivation or minor formations.

  High-grade spirit stones, however, were an entirely different matter.

  They didn't just store spiritual energy.

  They retained it.

  Their internal structure was dense and self-stabilizing, allowing them to be reused multiple times with minimal loss. Some could even be embedded into long-term formations or used as core components in large-scale arrays.

  Top-grade spirit stones were so rare that most cultivators would go their entire lives without seeing one. Entire sects might possess only a handful, treated as strategic resources rather than currency.

  Ning closed the book slowly.

  That much, he already knew.

  What interested him was the next section.

  "Special Variants and Anomalous Spirit Stones."

  His eyes sharpened.

  These were stones that deviated from the norm, mutated by environment, time, or unique spiritual phenomena. Some were unstable and dangerous. Others had bizarre properties: resonance with certain techniques, affinity to specific elements, or the ability to amplify cultivation under strict conditions.

  And then, Ning stopped.

  Recoverable Spirit Stones.

  He read the paragraph twice.

  Recoverable spirit stones were not fully mature. Instead of releasing their spiritual energy outward, they absorbed ambient qi slowly over time, refining and compressing it internally. Once fully matured, they would function as high-grade or even top-grade spirit stones.

  The catch?

  Time.

  Most recoverable stones require decades to centuries to reach full maturity. During that period, they were functionally inferior, sometimes even appearing like ordinary or flawed stones to the untrained eye.

  But their value, once recognized…

  Ning exhaled quietly.

  “So that’s what you are,” he murmured.

  His fingers brushed against the small pouch at his waist.

  The spirit stone he had obtained from the mission.

  At first glance, it looked like a normal spirit stone. The only special thing about it was the faintly purer spiritual energy inside. Normally, that would have been the end of it, but after a few days, Ning realized something.

  The spiritual energy inside it was slightly higher than before.

  That meant something was off.

  “This must be the reason for that rabbit’s mutation and late-stage cultivation,” Ning confirmed the conjecture he had previously formed.

  Normally, spirit stones could be used directly for cultivation, but few people did so.

  Even Ning himself, when cultivating in places with insufficient spiritual energy, used Qi Gathering Pills.

  This was because the spiritual energy content of a low-grade spirit stone was too small, requiring several stones for each cultivation session.

  His current cultivation level was still low, and it was already this terrifying.

  Once his cultivation level increased, the consumption of spirit stones would become even more terrifying. After all, advancement in cultivation realms was measured in years.

  Moreover, low-grade spirit stones were very impure and would obstruct one’s qi cultivation if used frequently.

  This was why many people used spirit pills instead of spirit stones for cultivation.

  Mainly, directly absorbing spirit stones was too inefficient and not cost-effective.

  Thus, Spirit Gathering Arrays, Qi Gathering Pills, and other complementary methods existed to accelerate cultivation efficiency.

  But that was only true for low- and mid-grade spirit stones. A high-grade or top-grade spirit stone could sustain cultivation for a while and could be used directly without harm.

  Instead, Ning had another idea.

  Rather than using the minuscule amount of energy inside the spirit stone for cultivation, which would probably be equivalent to a single Purple Cloud Pill, he could use it as a battery.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  When he ran out of spiritual energy, he could use the spirit stone to recover it. Normally, a qi-replenishing pill could be used for the same purpose, but that would be far too wasteful.

  According to his experiments, replenishing his qi once with the spirit stone would fully recover it in just one day. This was because it was an embryo of a high-grade spirit stone, something meant for Core Formation cultivators and above, while his current qi capacity was only a tiny fraction of that.

  With this spirit stone, he could effectively replenish his qi after each practice session, meaning he didn’t have to wait for natural recovery. That, in turn, meant he could practice continuously for long periods.

  Moreover, the spirit stone’s purity was extremely high, meaning he didn’t need to refine it. Within just a minute or two, he could fully restore his qi without wasting time.

  Effectively, this meant he could make his numbers go even more brr.

  “As expected of a protagonist halo,” Ning sighed. “Even a spirit stone has been elevated to such standards.”

  ...

  Ning tended to the fields. This time, he had planted two acres of Frozen Breath Plant, Four Acres of basic spiritual grain, and a small plot was used to grow other plants like poisonous lilies, red barley, wild herbs, and finally Dragon Qi Grass.

  Ning sat down near the Dragon Qi Grass. Their leaves were long and narrow, tinged with a faint, almost imperceptible sheen.

  Only a small patch, no more than a few square meters. The stalks were thinner than mature specimens, and the qi they emitted was weak, barely above ordinary spiritual herbs.

  Ning crouched beside the plot, inspecting the soil with practiced ease. He brushed aside a bit of dirt, exposing the roots beneath. They were pale, firm, and well-distributed.

  "Still stable," he muttered.

  When he had first obtained the Dragon Qi Grass from Xiao Fan, it had already been harvested. What he received was a single intact stalk, some residual roots torn out in haste, and clumps of soil saturated with lingering qi.

  To most cultivators, it was nothing more than leftover scraps, a one-time use material.

  To Ning, it was starting material.

  The first thing he had done, after confirming the plant was still barely viable, was not to plant it.

  Instead, he had observed it.

  He monitored how quickly the qi dissipated from the stalk when left exposed. He compared it to ordinary spiritual herbs, noting that Dragon Qi Grass lost qi more slowly, as if its internal structure resisted leakage.

  That told him something important.

  The plant didn't rely on constant external qi input. It stored and regulated qi efficiently, meaning if its environment was correct, it didn't need aggressive nurturing.

  So Ning recreated that environment.

  He started with the soil.

  Using what he knew from spiritual farming, he refined the plot to a neutral state, neither qi-rich nor qi-poor. From his past life, he applied a simple principle: roots adapt best when conditions are stable, not excessive.

  He mixed the soil taken from the boar's lair, the soil that had once supported multiple stalks of Dragon Qi Grass, into the plot evenly. Not as fertilizer, but as a structural base. That soil already had the correct mineral ratios and qi permeability.

  Next came the roots.

  The residual roots Xiao Fan had left behind were damaged and incomplete, but not useless. Ning trimmed them carefully, discarding decayed sections and keeping only the firm segments. He then planted them shallowly, ensuring they weren't buried deep enough to rot, but deep enough to encourage lateral growth.

  The intact stalk came last.

  Ning didn't force it to grow.

  He planted it slightly off-center, allowing its roots to expand naturally toward the residual root network rather than competing with it directly. This reduced stress and minimized the risk of qi imbalance.

  Then came the waiting.

  For the first three months, Ning did nothing except cast the Small Cloud Rain Technique at fixed intervals.

  From a cultivation perspective, this was a restraint.

  From a scientific one, it was acclimatization.

  When new roots finally emerged, thin, almost translucent strands, Ning began the second phase.

  He introduced extremely diluted spiritual fertilizer, adjusted weekly based on root response. If growth slowed, he reduced it. If the leaves dulled, he increased it slightly.

  Once every ten days, he used the Withering and Flourishing Technique to regulate growth cycles.

  He would briefly suppress qi activity, forcing the plant to consolidate nutrients internally. Then he would lift the suppression gradually, allowing growth to resume in a controlled manner.

  The result was slow. Painfully slow.

  For nearly half a year, nothing visible happened.

  Then one morning, Ning found a new shoot.

  Not from the original stalk, but from the residual roots.

  That was the turning point.

  Once the root system stabilized, propagation followed naturally. New shoots appeared one by one, each weak at first, but sturdier than the last. Ning adjusted spacing, pruned excess growth, and ensured no stalk overshadowed another.

  With such carefulness, in just two years, this plant would be ready to be harvested.

  A relatively long growth cycle compared to other first-tier plants, but without it, Xiao Fan would never have obtained the herb in the first place.

  Ning was patient with it because of its qi- and body-related benefits.

  “Huff… it’s finally looking good,” Ning sighed as he began casting the Small Cloud Rain Technique. Normally, this would have taken quite a while, but with the spirit stone, he was able to launch the technique repeatedly without pause.

  After finishing his daily chores, Ning walked toward the river, intending to catch some fish.

  It was there that Ning saw Old Zhou, sitting by the riverbank with a book in his hands.

  Ning narrowed his eyes.

  It was his book.

  “How’s the book you’re reading, Brother Zhou?” Ning asked, genuinely curious about the feedback. After all, what he had written was probably the first ero–light novel in this world. He honestly wasn’t sure how people would react to it.

  Old Zhou was completely engrossed, only looking up when Ning called out a second time.

  “Eh? You’re asking me about the book?” Old Zhou hurriedly sat up and closed it, then cleared his throat. “This novel is… quite special. A new type entirely. The characterization is excellent; who would’ve thought of calling characters things like tsundere and yandere? And those illustrations! Quite tasteful. Not to mention the ideas, things I’ve never seen before. Truly very good.”

  Old Zhou spoke with enthusiasm, going into detail without restraint. He knew that although Ning looked innocent on the surface, he was ultimately a man of culture, so there was no need to hold back.

  “So,” Ning said carefully, “it seems you like it very much.”

  “Yes, I do,” Old Zhou nodded firmly. Then his expression darkened. “But it has one fatal flaw.”

  Ning’s heart skipped.

  “That bastard author, Tzu Sun!” Old Zhou slammed the book against his knee. “Why can’t he write more chapters? And on top of that, he always ends at the most interesting moment! If that bastard hadn’t hidden his identity, I’d have gone to fight him already!”

  “I-is that so…” Ning’s smile stiffened.

  Ever since his book had become popular, he had been very glad he’d hidden his identity. Now, it seemed even Old Zhou was no exception.

  “Yes!” Old Zhou grew even more animated. “If I knew who that bastard was, I’d definitely lock him in a basement and make him write books for eternity!”

  T-tell me you’re joking… Ning panicked internally.

  No one has thoughts like that, right?

  After venting his emotions, Old Zhou turned to Ning, "Speaking of which, I heard you’re preparing to take the Spiritual Plant Certification?”

  “Yes,” Ning replied in relief at the change of subject. “Otherwise, I’d have to wait another year, and that wouldn’t be suitable.”

  The Spiritual Farmer certification was held only once a year and was controlled by the Spiritual Plant Hall. Moreover, each slot required a fee of five hundred spirit stones.

  Without such restrictions, Ning would have taken it long ago.

  “Heh! I’m sure you’ll pass,” Old Zhou said smugly. “I was nervous too, but I still made it.”

  With Ning’s guidance and their in-depth discussions on spell principles, Old Zhou had finally taken that last step. Coupled with his experience, he had been able to pass the certification successfully.

  So, as an old man who had finally achieved his dream of obtaining the certificate, Old Zhou never missed a chance to show it off. Even farmers from other sectors weren’t spared.

  “I’ll do my best,” Ning said with a smile.

  He wasn’t lying. He was already prepared.

  [Spells:]

  Small Cloud Rain Technique (Great Accomplishment)

  Soil Refining Technique (Great Accomplishment)

  Withering and Flourishing Technique (Great Accomplishment)

  Scorching Purge (Minor Accomplishment)

  Golden Finger (Minor Accomplishment)

  ...

  Thanks for reading~