At eighty years old, with death fast approaching, Tao Manzhi goes to the Immortal City to work as the lowest-ranking spirit-plant farmer.
Other people grow crops with spells. She grows hers by “taking advice,” because she can hear the spirit plants cursing.
“You watered me too much. Trying to drown me?” “Pull that weed next to me before it steals my nutrients!”
This is a frantic age when cultivators toil themselves to death and fight until their brains are splattered over a single breakthrough pill.
Tao Manzhi, meanwhile, just keeps her head down and farms. She casually stews a thousand-year-old ginseng root with a local chicken and cures her chronic rheumatism. She feeds a long-lost ancient immortal herb to the pigs and accidentally raises a whole courtyard of guardian beasts worthy of protecting a sect.
Later, the aloof alchemy sect genius begs her in tears for a weed. The invincible sword sect powerhouse willingly stays in her courtyard to chop wood just to eat a bowl of spirit rice. Even the arrogant Demon Venerable turns into a little black cat, desperately acting cute at her feet and begging for food.
The great figures of the cultivation world break down: Ancestor, what is your true level of cultivation?
Tao Manzhi slowly sets down her hoe. “Let's not talk about cultivation levels yet. Move your foot, will you? You're about to crush the World Tree sapling I just planted.”
