There was a plot of spiritless land behind Green Wood Sect where nothing had grown for three hundred years.
The menial disciple Chen Ye took it on.
Three months later, a line stretched from the entrance to his field all the way to a point three thousand li away.
Because he wasn't growing ordinary grain.
A bowl of spirit rice was worth ten years of meditation; a cup of tea of enlightenment could grant a third of a breakthrough.
An Elder Supreme who had been stuck at Nascent Soul for sixty years nearly shed tears at an auction while bidding for a single tea plant.
Some tried to drive the price down, some tried to force a purchase, and some tried to seize the field.
Only later did the people who took the land realize that all the rice they'd harvested was hollow husks.
Chen Ye stood on the field ridge with a hoe over his shoulder and said just one thing:
"Anyone who touches my field can forget about me growing anything."
