Cultivating Immortality began with Farming.

There was a pause, and I shifted on my feet, fiddling with my tails as I turned toward the voice that sounded like Feng Xiu’s, though I couldn't see her. I followed the sound.

From the left side of the wooden house, nestled among green, moderately tall plants with clear boundaries, sat an old woman in a simple robe, sipping tea in a wooden pavilion. Tendrils of steam rose from her cup as the wind gently rustled the leaves around her. She was Feng Xiu, a cultivator at the fourth level of the Divine Sea. Despite her frail appearance—hunched over, leaning partially on a cane, her cloudy red eyes barely focusing on me—she commanded respect.

As I entered the pavilion, my bushy tails swayed gently in the calming breeze. Feng Xiu gestured for me to sit. After bowing respectfully, I sat across from her. She took a sip of her tea before speaking, her voice calm yet sharp.

“What do you want, girl?” she asked, her eyes barely shifting.

I forced a smile. “I was hoping to borrow four Bǎo Rán pills.”

“No,” she snapped, waving her hand dismissively. “Leave.”

I flinched, my lips trembling. “Please, hear me out! I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Speak. This old woman was enjoying her peace.”

“I can help with your spiritual fields,” I said quickly, my tails drooping. “I’ll make it rain until your crops mature.”

Feng Xiu, about to take another sip of her tea, paused and narrowed her eyes at me. “You think four pills is a fair trade for that? You must think I’m easily fooled because I’m old.”

“No, no! I’ll return the pills once my harvest comes in,” I replied, hastily. “Next season, when my magical maize matures, I’ll pay you back. Deal?”

“Hmph.” Her eyes softened, if only slightly, as she took a long sip of tea. She knew the struggles of managing both magical and spiritual fields.

“You’ve been slacking, haven’t you? Still working on those magical fields, and still stuck in the second stage of the Divine Sea for three months?”

Her words stung because they were true. The real Qin Jaewon Yeon, no—I had barely made any progress. Tending to these fields consumed my time. And I couldn’t tell her about the robbery. The last thing I needed was my fellow cultivators treating me like a cursed fox.

“Well... yeah. Can’t exactly meditate on an empty stomach, right?” I forced a laugh.

Feng Xiu grumbled, leaning forward as she rested her cane against the table. After a long pause, she finally said, “Fine. I’ll give you one Bǎo Rán pill every ten days, and then once a month until your harvest.”

My ears perked up. “Thank you, Elder Feng! You won’t regret it.”

It was a deal, then.

She coughed lightly and gestured toward her spiritual sugarcane fields. “You can start right now. The fields need water.”

I nodded eagerly and hurried to the center of the field. Raising my hands, I began to chant softly, forming the hand seal—Dog (Inu)—for the Rainfall Technique. Dark clouds gathered above, and soon, rain began to fall, soaking the parched earth. Half an hour later, the three-acre field was thoroughly drenched, though the spell had drained much of my energy, leaving my dantian nearly empty.

[Rain-fall Technique +4]

I smiled. Not bad. Just a few more rounds of this, and I might level up sooner than expected.

Glancing back toward the pavilion, I saw Elder Feng watching me, her expression unreadable. She poured more tea from her jug, seemingly indifferent to my efforts. I stood in the rain for a moment, looking up at the sky. My future might be uncertain and filled with hard work, but at least I was making progress—slowly, but surely.

— — — — 

“Cultivating immortality… is that still possible?” Feng Xia muttered, leaning slightly in her seat. Her frail body hovered over the steaming tea, its leafy aroma drifting as a soft breeze swept through the pavilion. She took a deep breath, then slumped back, her loose, faded robes hanging off her hunched shoulders. The years had worn her down, body and spirit.

More than eighty years ago, she had been full of promise—a cultivator with a magical core, strong physique, and talent to develop a spiritual core. Her potential had been envied by many. Back then, her future seemed bright, her dreams of creating the Heavenly Fortune Elixir almost within reach. But the path to immortality had crumbled beneath her feet, leaving her ambitions in the dust.

There was an old saying among cultivators: If a cub doesn't grow into a lion in time, it will remain a cub forever. Feng Xia, who had failed to join the Shen Lian Sect under a master’s guidance, was now nothing more than a magical plant farmer. The hands that once reached for the heavens now worked the soil.

At first, she told herself it was only temporary. She believed that, with time and effort, she could build a foundation, slowly climbing the ranks. Maybe not to the Heavenly Fortune Elixir, but to something that would at least lift her standing in Hengshan Valley.

But that hope faded, bit by bit.

She thought back to the days when she, too, begged other cultivators for a single Bǎo Rán Pill—just like that nine-tailed fox girl trying to water her spiritual fields with trembling hands. Qin Jaewon Yeon, was it? Another magical farmer scraping by, hoping to survive. Feng Xia saw too much of her younger self in the girl’s desperation.

With a sigh, Feng Xia gave in and lent the pill. She was in her twilight years, and death was no longer a distant shadow. What harm could come from helping another lost soul?

“Oh, forget it… Not in this life. Maybe in the next, we’ll become immortals,” she whispered. A breeze brushed lightly against her weathered skin, carrying a fleeting coolness, while the warmth of the tea soothed the aches buried deep inside her.

— — — — — 

I opened the system panel, my tails twitching with satisfaction. The proficiency of my Rain-fall technique had increased from [36] to [40]. It wasn’t a big jump, but it was enough to lift my spirits. The exhaustion from depleting my Qi was already fading from my mind.

I can cast the spell twice every four days, and I gain 4 points of proficiency from watering three acres of spiritual fields and one point from my own land, I calculated, fluffing my tails thoughtfully. At this rate, it’ll take me about three months to break through to full proficiency.

Normally, that would be impossible if I only earned one point at a time, but with five points in total each time, if nothing goes wrong… But in this world, things rarely went smoothly. I’d have to tread carefully. With this in mind, I headed back to my magical field. For the next three days, I’d need to meditate and restore my Qi—my dantian was completely drained.

My thoughts drifted to the spot where the real Qin Jaewon Yeon had died, the place where the Qi was densest around the Magical Farmland. Before her death, she’d absorbed much of the energy there after drinking a cultivation potion. While I didn’t have such a potion to speed up my recovery, it was still the perfect place for meditation.

I grabbed a shovel from the wooden hut and made my way to the spot. The bloodstains, still vivid on the ground, sent a shiver down my spine. That place always unsettled me, but I couldn’t deny it was the best location for cultivation. I shoveled some soil over the stains, suppressing the eerie feeling, and then dropped a cushion onto the ridge. Balancing myself, I crossed my legs, closed my eyes, and began to breathe, drawing in what little Qi I could from the atmosphere and the nearby Qi veins.

It wasn’t easy. The faint traces of Qi in the air were hard to grasp, and with my poor aptitude, it took immense focus to absorb even a little. The first-level Qi veins had already been drained by the magical plants, leaving almost nothing for me. But I couldn’t afford to give up. Slowly, I reached for the gossamer strands of energy floating around me. Barely enough, but it would have to do.

Three hours later, I opened my eyes to find the sky had darkened. Stars were beginning to peek through the deepening night. I could stay out here overnight, but the immortal world was as dangerous as any other place after dark. You never knew when a wandering spirit or venomous creature might cross your path. And no one would care if a third-rate cultivator like me vanished without a trace. With a sigh, I gathered my things and headed back to my wooden cabin, my tails swaying behind me.

The next two days followed a steady routine. In this world, without the need for food, work, or the mundane worries of my past life—like showing up late and getting yelled at by my boss—I meditated in the field during the day and rested at night. By the fourth day, I had managed to recover about 90% of my Qi.

It was barely enough to keep me going. Managing one acre was already a challenge, let alone more. But it was progress.

On the morning of the fourth day, as soon as the sun crested the horizon, I made my way to Feng Xia’s place. She wasn’t in her usual spot, sipping tea in the pavilion or inspecting her sugarcane fields. She was probably inside her house.

Regardless, I knocked gently on her door and called, “Old lady Feng, Qin Jaewon Yeon is here to fulfill her duty!”

Without waiting for a response, I began the chant and made the familiar gesture—Dog (Inu)—for the Rainfall Technique. My Qi pulsed from my dantian into the hand sign, and soon, dark clouds gathered overhead. Rain began to pour, soaking the three acres of spiritual fields. By the time the spell was finished, half an hour had passed, and Feng Xia still hadn’t shown up.

I didn’t expect much anymore. In this world, getting a reply from others was always a risky gamble. I still needed to summon rain three more times before she’d hand over the Bǎo Rán Pill. Four more days of hunger.

After a polite goodbye, I returned to my field. Too exhausted to inspect each maize plant, I chose to meditate instead. My dantian hadn’t fully recovered, and casting the Rainfall Technique on my own land now would strain it. Damaging my dantian at the First Stage of Divine Sea? That would end my path as a Magical Farmer.

By noon, I felt it—the gnawing hunger clawing at my insides. The effect of the Bǎo Rán Pill had worn off, and there was nothing I could do about it.

One day at a time. That’s all I had, I thought bitterly, patting my rumbling stomach. Seven more days before I could eat again. Seven days of starvation.

— — — — — 

Three days later, I completed summoning the Fourth Rain for Feng Xia. Only four days left before I could “borrow” the Bǎo Rán Pill. But I was already starving, the effects of the last one having faded days ago.

Before I could go to her wooden house to say goodbye, expecting the same old silence, a familiar voice startled me. “Over here!”

I turned toward the voice of Feng Xia, which came from the Pavilion where a gentle breeze calmed the mind. My tails, tense from the shock, relaxed and curled at the ends.

“Senior, I’ll come back in four days,” I stammered, my voice weak from hunger.

But instead of sending me away or gesturing me over, she tossed a porcelain bottle toward me. I barely caught it from such a distance. “Take it. The next one will be given to you in a month.”

"Old Feng, didn’t you say it would be in ten days?" I was shocked. "Why is there more than one?"

She laughed lightly, her wrinkled face expressionless. “I finally found a cute fox willing to take care of my spiritual field. It would be a pity if she starved to death.” Without another word, she gestured for me to move along.

I walked two paces and stopped for a moment, stunned. Then, I quickly opened the bottle and smelled the familiar medicinal scent of the Bǎo Rán pill my body craved.

Without hesitation, I swallowed one, savoring the sensation as if it were the purest elixir. Soon, the hunger melted away as the pill’s essence nourished my body.

I let out a deep breath, finally feeling the breeze's calm. Maybe Old Feng wasn’t as heartless as she seemed, I thought, the tangerine taste of the Bǎo Rán pill lingering on my tongue.

I wouldn’t go so far as to call her kind, but in this world, even a small favor could mean survival.