I spent a hundred years competing in the cultivation world and lost. I went back to my hometown to grow vegetables, and won.
Song Xing, a Golden Core cultivator, failed her tribulation and perished, body and soul.
When she opened her eyes again, she was lying in a county hospital bed. Her phone was shattered like a spiderweb, and over 99 messages flooded in: her boss demanding she come to work, her landlord chasing rent, and her credit card company demanding payment.
She stared for three seconds, then smiled.
In her hundred years in the cultivation world, she’d seen sects destroyed, old friends turn to bones, and spirit fields soaked in blood. And now they expected her to go back to making PowerPoints, squeezing onto the subway, and putting up with her boss?
No chance.
She quit, ended her lease, and bought a ticket, all in one go. Carrying a hoe, Song Xing returned to her hometown of Qingshan Town and planted the first seed in the three mu of barren land her grandfather had left her.
Her younger sister came charging into the field with a phone in hand. “Sis, what are you doing?”
“Growing vegetables.”
“I’m starting a livestream!”
“Suit yourself.”
The viewers came to watch her use strange methods to loosen the soil, water the plants, and build trellises. Some called it a publicity stunt; others said she was putting on an act and dabbling in the supernatural.
Then she casually picked a cucumber and took a bite in front of the camera.
The crisp crunch rang in everyone’s ears. The comments went silent for three seconds, then exploded.
“Streamer! Why is that cucumber glowing?!”
“It’s not glowing, it’s just light reflecting off the water droplets... right?”
“Sell me another one! Just one! I’ll pay fifty!”
Munching on the cucumber, Song Xing narrowed her eyes and looked toward the distant mountain shrouded in mist.
A white fox had been sitting there for three days.
