Quality to be Improved

Great calamities ensure good fortune follows. Chen Xia was quite a firm believer in this saying, which was why on the first day after he returned, still staggering, he went and bought some raffle tickets that were popular amongst Cultivators.

He hit the jackpot.

Five Spirit Stones.

He weighed the five Spirit Stones in his hand - this was his change in fortune. Still limping, he staggered his way back home.

With Big Yellow Dog gone, the little house was much quieter, the biggest difference being that there was no longer the howling of Big Yellow Dog or the sight of Big Yellow Dog writhing about.

"Missing Big Yellow Dog?" Zhang DaoMing stood to one side with his hands behind his back, murmuring.

"Mm," Chen Xia nodded lightly. Then he suggested, "Why don't you lie there and mimic Big Yellow Dog having a fit, and I'll give you all five of the Spirit Stones I won today?"

Zhang DaoMing immediately offered an even higher price. "I'll double it to ten Spirit Stones. You go ahead and show me."

"Forget it. It's not tasteful." Chen Xia waved his hand dismissively.

He was showing double standards alright.

Staggering, he made his way to the chair he usually sat on. He poured himself a cup of tea and took a small sip. Then he started propping his chin up, staring blankly at the door.

He really couldn't think of anything to do.

Zhang DaoMing walked over to his side and with a chuckle, asked, "Care to play a round?"

"Forget it," Chen Xia shook his head. "You and I aren't well-matched in skill. I feel I should play with someone closer to my level, not you."

In short, I suck, I don't want to get thrashed.

"I'll handicap myself by giving up my Knights and Rooks and letting you go first." Zhang DaoMing chuckled as he suggested.

Chen Xia frowned, his expression suddenly serious. He looked straight at Zhang DaoMing. "You can say my skills are lacking, but you cannot insult the integrity of how I play the game. If it's really as you've described, what's the point of playing?"

Zhang DaoMing was taken aback. He didn't expect Chen Xia to have such strict requirements when it came to the game. Immediately, he felt ashamed and lowered his head, about to apologize.

Chen Xia continued. "Giving up the Rooks is fine. Don't give up the Knights, there's no fun in that."

Once again, Zhang DaoMing was surprised.

The game board opened up.

With a single hand, Chen Xia extended an invitation, lightly laughing, "Please."

The outcome wasn't completely disastrous. Even though Zhang DaoMing had held back considerably, Chen Xia still only managed to win one round.

And that one was the last round.

It was still a victory achieved only through Zhang DaoMing's efforts at letting him win by helping him with his moves.

After the matches ended, Chen Xia shook his head, took a sip of tea, then chuckled, "Shall we call it a draw? I lost to you just by a bit."

Zhang DaoMing nodded, not saying anything. He just felt that after Chen Xia was cremated in the future, his mouth would probably still be as stubborn.

It was the fifth day since Big Yellow Dog's departure. This was the first and only time the two of them played Go. Thereafter, they never played it again.

In the days that followed, Chen Xia became completely submerged in his cultivation and stopped going out. Let alone going to Broken City to watch other Cultivators fight.

Perhaps it was due to no longer hearing Big Yellow Dog calling him back home for meals.

In any case, Chen Xia felt that everything seemed meaningless. Every day he just sat in that chair, steeping the same tea, spacing out in more or less the same way.

Zhang DaoMing would often come find him for a chat and Chen Xia would respond occasionally.

"With the Cultivators you captured gone, the walls are a lot quieter now," Zhang DaoMing laughed.

"Should we catch more back then?" Chen Xia threw the question back at him.

"Forget it. It feels indecent to capture them back for no reason." Zhang DaoMing shook his head.

"It's fine. We'll just deduct it from your karma," Chen Xia chuckled.

For a moment, Zhang DaoMing didn't know how to respond. After spacing out briefly, he only replied with one sentence.

"Thank you."

Chen Xia did not reply. He downed the rest of the tea in his cup and stood up, shaking his head. "I've been too dispirited lately. I've decided what I should do."

"What's that?" Zhang DaoMing asked curiously.

"Farming." Chen Xia immediately replied.

This wasn't a joke. Starting from the next day, Chen Xia forged himself a hoe, bought seeds for medicinal herbs, and started clearing land in the yard to create herb fields.

Some say farming is an activity that cultivates one's character.

Chen Xia felt that notion was bullshit.

At best, it could help kill time.

Every day, wearing an old, worn straw hat he scrounged up from somewhere and carrying a hoe with his pant legs rolled up, he tended the herb fields he had cleared. His appearance truly resembled a native of the Lower Realm who had been born and raised there as a medicine farmer.

The key thing was, not only did he dress the part, he even intentionally imitated the accent of the farmers out there. Of all the phrases he mimicked, there was one that sounded most authentic.

"Rely on your mother!"

Every time Chen Xia said this, Zhang DaoMing would be frozen for a second. Finally, he couldn't resist asking.

"Who taught you to speak like that?"

"Self-taught and self-made, rely on your mother!" Chen Xia accentuated his words with a accent modifier.

"You can't keep this up. Those aren't nice things to say." Zhang DaoMing frowned.

"Oh don't worry, the things I learned to say are the rude phrases." Chen Xia smiled.

He was deliberately going against better judgement.

Zhang DaoMing didn't know what else he could do. He scrubbed his face and frowned again as he asked, "Is that the only phrase you learned?"

"There's one more," Chen Xia replied.

"What is it?" Zhang DaoMing couldn't help asking.

"Screw your dad!" Chen Xia answered.

Zhang DaoMing was utterly dumbfounded. Then he just wanted to slap himself. Why did he have to be so nosy?

Although Chen Xia had picked up quite a bit of bad habits from the farmers, he'd also learned the best practices.

The herb fields he cultivated were extremely well maintained. All kinds of herbs flourished upwards in perfect condition. There were even vague signs that some were progressing towards a breakthrough mutation.

This made Zhang DaoMing frown again. He felt that for anything related to alchemy, this guy was like a defiance of the Heavens.

Not only could he grow herbs, he could also concoct pills. Talk about vertical integration!

How were other alchemists supposed to make a living?

Zhang DaoMing sighed. Thank goodness he wasn't an alchemist himself, but a swordsman.

Even though he hadn't officially started cultivation and didn't have his own Lifebonded Flying Sword yet.

But he was a swordsman through and through.

Suddenly Zhang DaoMing recalled Chen Xia's three million flying swords. His brows knitted tightly again, feeling that being a swordsman didn't seem like a good thing either.

He felt troubled and looked over at Chen Xia's side.

The blue-robed figure had rolled up his sleeves and trouser legs. Wearing an old straw hat, he loitered casually amidst the herb fields. The brilliant noon sunlight shone thickly upon him, spilling over ever so slightly before falling upon the herb fields.

Zhang DaoMing continued watching. He only knew that Chen Xia's fields were very nicely maintained, but he didn't actually know how Chen Xia tended to them.

Just then, as if noticing something, Chen Xia quickly strode forward and stopped by a particularly small and puny looking sprout compared to the other herbs.

Identifying problematic shoots and resolving the issues - that was indeed a medicine farmer's duty.

However, there were many different ways to resolve problems, depending on Chen Xia's approach.

Would he provide supplemental nutrients? Or expand the planting area?

Zhang DaoMing grew interested and watched intently for the next step.

He saw Chen Xia squat down. Suddenly he raised a hand and slapped the little herb sprout. Then he pointed at it and scolded loudly.

"Rely on your mother! If you don't grow taller by three days, I'm stuffing you back into the soil."

Before Zhang DaoMing's very eyes, the little sprout then grew visibly taller by an inch.

He was dumbstruck by the sight.

This was the first time he had witnessed someone growing crops through intimidation tactics.

What kind of terrorist behavior was this?