My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting-Chapter 107 - New Elder; Winter’s Arrival; Dragon-Fanged Spear - Part 1

“Why?!”

An elderly farmer squatted in silence by the field, scooping up a handful of soil. He crumbled it between his fingers, revealing a sprinkling of coarse sand. He stared at those gritty fragments in mute resignation.

A younger man next to him, another farmer, looked panicked. “Uncle Tian, what do we do now?”

They were mere tenants; they had to pay the landlord a set quota of grain each year. The past two years had already been poor. Now the harvest was even worse. They had barely scraped by on empty bellies, hoping desperately for a better yield this season...yet things had turned out bleaker than ever.

“Uncle Tian, my wife just had a baby,” the younger farmer added, nearly in tears. “There’s already not enough food, and now there’s another mouth to feed. What are we supposed to do?” He had heard about people who sold their children, but he could never do such a thing himself.

The old farmer said nothing. He let the sand fall from his hand and lowered his head. The problem wasn’t that they farmed poorly; it was that the fields themselves were failing.

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On the outskirts of the inner district was the Blood Blade Sect’s meat field, which occasionally flared with a blood-red blaze.

Feng Chengbao had just been made the new overseer; this appointment was personally assigned by Tie Sha. While the environment was harsh, it was an excellent place to train—remote, quiet, and steeped in a heavy aura of blood that aided cultivation.

From time to time, lumps of raw flesh appeared in the crimson soil. When the field reached a certain temperature during harvest, it became too hot to enter safely.

In another couple of days, Fang Chengbao could summon laborers—now mostly hired hands, since the district wardens had all been killed—to don iron boots and cut the flesh.

Fang Chengbao sat by the edge of the field, gazing out at the crimson expanse. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

In the very center of the field, the flesh seemed to have grown differently, rising higher than the rest like a crane among chickens.

He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, staring long at that cluster. At last, he swallowed hard and murmured, “Eighth rank... That’s eighth rank meat! The field has grown eighth rank meat!”

He knew precisely what that meant. This eighth rank meat could feed multiple cultivators trying to break through to seventh rank. It could strengthen their forces immeasurably in this chaotic world. Such power meant security and stability.

Overwhelmed with excitement, Fang Chengbao spun around and shouted, “A bumper crop! A huge bumper harvest like never before!”

Joy and laughter bubbled in the meat field.

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Back in town, Xue Ning leaned on the windowsill, gazing downstairs.

The streets were still crowded with carts and travelers as Silver Creek remained the safest, most prosperous township of Gemhill County.

Yet she sighed softly, aware that beyond its borders, the world was far from tranquil.

“Another poor harvest,” she murmured. “I keep wanting to hope, but something tells me not to.”

Though she could open more soup kitchens, it would amount to little more than a drop in a bucket. Food prices would only climb higher; copper coins were steadily losing value. Order was slipping by the day.

She wondered what her husband made of it all. Propping her chin in her hand, she stared at the dull gray sky.

After a moment’s thought, she stepped out and flagged down one of the tavern’s staff. “Lin Silang, have you seen Yan Yu?”

The man, once the inn’s brewer, looked up. He had shaved his scruffy beard recently, giving him a neat, clean look. “Madam, she just went out to meet some other ladies from town.”

“Let me know when she’s back, all right?” Xue Ning said.

“Of course,” Lin Silang answered quickly.

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Night fell.

Li Yuan lay in bed with his two wives, their recent moments of passion fading. Xue Ning still seemed unsated, shifting her long legs restlessly against him. Yan Yu breathed softly at his other side.

The gloom of the coming winter pressed outside; but for now, in the warm candlelight of their chamber, Li Yuan’s little household felt like a sheltered world of its own.

Yan Yu lay nearby, covering her laughter with a hand.

Li Yuan, still brimming with energy, leaned down and kissed the fair-skinned beauty’s forehead. Catching sight of her white-tinged silk undergarment, he decided to go in for another taste of the lotus, leaving them both breathless by the end.

After a while, the bedchamber settled in a hush of soft whispers.

Xue Ning said, “Dearest, I hear it’s another bad harvest this year. I’ve been talking with Yan Yu, and we think if we could convince all the landowners to reduce the grain tax on their tenants, more people might survive. Yan Yu mentioned she could bring it up at her tea gatherings with the other wives, see if they’ll consider it.”

Yan Yu nodded. “Yes, Husband. If we keep demanding the same high tributes from the farmers despite repeated crop failures, there’s bound to be unrest. The two of us wanted to hear your thoughts.”

Li Yuan asked, “Will they agree to it?”

“Well...” Yan Yu gave a wry smile. “That’s why we might need to borrow the name of Elder Li. Show off our tiger skin a bit.”

Elder Li? It still felt strange to Li Yuan. He wasn’t sure what Tie Sha was thinking when he made him an elder with no questions asked.

Two elder seats had opened up in the Blood Blade Sect, and Tie Sha filled them swiftly.

One went to Fang Jianlong, who had recently broken through to seventh rank after the battle against the Sun Family. He was now in seclusion to consolidate his cultivation. Fang Jianlong’s promotion was well-deserved.

The other seat went to Li Yuan, ostensibly for his role as a beastmaster. It was that simple. Normally, any such decision would spark debate. Why should an eighth rank disciple be promoted to elder when there were others more qualified? But Tie Sha’s authority in the sect was absolute. If people questioned it, they did so only in whispers.

“An eighth rank kid? Over Zhao Yi and Zhao Chunxin?”

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“Beastmaster, my foot. He’s just lucky.”

Surely these murmurs circulated, but Li Yuan paid them no mind. He knew Tie Sha must have his suspicions but also realized that the Blood Blade Patriarch wanted to remain hidden.

So Tie Sha had decided to cover up any potential evidence by promoting Li Yuan directly. He had also stopped investigating. Now Li Yuan held the status of an elder, but his actual duties were left to Ah Er to handle. He enjoyed the title without having to do much work.

Presently, Li Yuan reflected on the situation. As an elder, he was privy to everything in the sect and so knew about the massive harvest in the meat field, including the batch of the eighth rank meat capable of helping multiple eighth rankers break through to seventh rank.

Meanwhile, Gemhill's ordinary farmland was in dire straits, three consecutive years of poor yields. It didn’t take a genius to suspect some kind of bizarre connection between the two.

After a moment, Li Yuan said, “Let me speak with the sect master.”

Yan Yu giggled. “I told you he’d help us.”

Xue Ning snuggled up against him. “I knew you would, Dearest.”

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The next morning, Li Yuan found an opportunity to approach Tie Sha about relaxing the grain tax for tenant farmers. Tie Sha didn’t object and simply told Li Yuan to go ahead with it.

Li Yuan asked if he should do it officially under the Blood Blade Sect’s banner.

Tie Sha simply shrugged. “If you want to wave the Blood Blade Sect’s flag, do it. If it’s just about gratitude from the peasants, forget it. Good reputations lead to moral obligations, and a sect shouldn’t be chained by morality. On the other hand, if a hero emerges from within a ruthless sect, that can come in handy in negotiations.”

Li Yuan wasn’t looking to get morally cornered, either, but he still wanted to do something. For one, he sympathized with the farmers, recalling his own past struggles. For another, he was originally from a more peaceful world; a third reason was that he simply didn’t want Gemhill to erupt into chaos. Lastly, who could morally bind him if he was powerful enough?