Ning eventually reached Sector 3. Contrary to his expectations, it was not a courtyard or a cluster of buildings, but an entire valley - and not a small one either. From a single glance, he could see rows of farmland stretching across acres, with sect buildings tucked neatly along the slopes.

  'This sect covers more area than I thought', Ning realized, shaking his head. His way of thinking still hadn't fully adjusted. Just one "sector" alone contained a whole valley… and that was only Sector 3. With a numbering system in place, it was easy to guess there were many more.

  "Ah, the cliché of expansion," Ning sighed inwardly.

  It was practically a rule: the moment anything involved qi, cultivation, or magic, the world itself would inflate to extravagant sizes. Mountains became continents, valleys became provinces, and "walking distance" turned into a half-day marathon.

  Alas, such was the price of worldbuilding. So, Ning added another task to his growing list of priorities:

  learn the geography of his surroundings.

  The old Ji Ning had been nothing more than a countryside bumpkin. And in a sense, so was the current him. All he truly knew was that the sect he'd joined was called the Pure Qi Sect, and that its strongest cultivator was a Golden Core Patriarch.

  The sect's territory supposedly spanned hundreds, perhaps even thousands of miles… yet that was considered small on the scale of the entire continent. And compared to the world at large, it was little more than a speck.

  'They say everything is bigger in a cultivation world. Turns out that wasn't a lie.'

  Ning didn't even want to begin unraveling the absurdities of physics in this plane of existence. Space stretched unnaturally, valleys spanned for miles without breaking, and mountains scraped the clouds without collapsing under their own weight.

  He could already guess the answer to all of it. Qi. Always qi. Or "spiritual energy" if one wanted to talk in scientific terms.

  Shaking his head, Ning soon arrived at a managerial post built into the hillside. The building looked modest enough, but he deliberately kept his eyes down, careful not to stare too long at the paintings or calligraphy displayed near the entrance.

  He had already learned that lesson.

  Inside, a man with a small belly was lounging behind a desk.

  "Hello, I was assigned here," Ning mumbled, handing over the jade slip the elder had given him.

  "You must be one of the newcomers this year," the man said, standing up and puffing out his chest as though to hide his belly. "Name's Fang Zhu. Steward of this sector."

  Ning inclined his head politely. "Ning. Ji Ning. Pleasure."

  "Yeah, yeah," Fang Zhu waved a hand, clearly unbothered by formality. "Come on, we'll get you registered first."

  The procedure was quick, Fang Zhu moving with the speed of someone who'd clearly done this dozens of times. When finished, he tossed a few items toward Ning.

  "These are the essentials for newcomers. Each hall issues different ones. You've received the Pure Qi Sutra and the Small Cloud Rain Technique.

  "You've probably used the Sutra already when inhaling qi, but that was just the introduction. This copy will carry you through to the late stage of Qi Refining. As for the Cloud Rain Technique, it's a basic spell for spiritual farmers. Only the first two levels are provided, enough to last until you hit the third realm.

  "The jade slips also contain the sect rules. Review them carefully when you return."

  Ning accepted the jade slips with a bitter grin.

  'Spiritual farming was one thing, but not even a single offensive spell? Wonderful.'

  Ning bowed politely. "Excuse me, Senior Brother, where can one go to learn more techniques or spells?"

  Fang Zhu waved dismissively. "We're brothers here, drop the 'senior.' Everything you need is in the jade slips. For now, I'll take you to your farming plot."

  As they walked, Fang Zhu filled the silence with chatter.

  They soon arrived at a modest wooden hut tucked between two hills. An old man sat outside, qi faintly rippling around him as he inspected herbs. His eyes lifted lazily as they approached.

  "Ah, a newcomer," Old Zhou said, his low voice laid back. "I see you've already reached the first level. Not many manage that speed this year."

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  Ning inclined his head, biting back a groan. Fantastic. Privacy clearly doesn't exist.

  "Old Zhou, you'll be responsible for guiding Junior Brother Ning," Fang Zhu announced.

  Old Zhou nodded, then cracked one eye open a little wider. "I know. You can leave now."

  Fang Zhu clutched his chest like he'd been stabbed. "Leave? I'm your only friend, and you treat me like this?"

  Old Zhou snorted. "Don't play dumb. I know the real reason you've been hanging around."

  Fang Zhu blinked innocently, though the bulge of his belly betrayed him. "And what reason would that be?"

  "You're just here to freeload another meal," Old Zhou said flatly.

  Fang Zhu straightened, face full of righteous indignation. "Nonsense! I only stayed so Junior Brother Ning wouldn't feel awkward. As the elder here, isn't it your duty to host a proper welcoming meal?"

  "Ignore him." Old Zhou let out another snort, then glanced at Ning. "Still, he's not wrong. We'll be neighbors for years. A little courtesy won't kill me."

  "Ha! Knew it!" Fang Zhu cheered triumphantly.

  Ning smiled at the exchange. At least his new 'fellow daoists' seemed easygoing. Of course, there was always a chance this was just for show. So, while he remained cautious, he wasn't full-on paranoid.

  Fudge. No wonder I couldn't be Batman, Ning thought dryly.

  After all, he wasn't the protagonist of some xianxia novel, where every meeting devolved into face-slapping theatrics.

  Soon, Old Zhou prepared a simple meal. Ning took the initiative to help, while Fang Zhu set up a table and chairs beneath a tree. Once the dishes were ready, Old Zhou lit a lamp and cracked open a wine jar, the fragrance spilling into the night air.

  Fang Zhu proved to be a natural talker, Ning an attentive listener, and even Old Zhou loosened up after a few cups.

  With the atmosphere so warm, Ning seized the chance to ask questions. After all, he was still a complete noob. The fastest way to survive was to imitate the pros.

  "Cultivation isn't easy," Fang Zhu said gravely. "Even joining a sect is like walking on thin ice. One needs not only resources but also sufficient talent to make use of those resources. Junior Brother, for the next five years, you must do your utmost to reach the mid-stage of Qi Condensation. Otherwise, you will be deemed to have low potential and remain a peripheral disciple forever."

  "I'll remember that," Ning nodded, carefully avoiding the wine cup. He still didn't know his tolerance and wasn't about to embarrass himself on day one.

  Then he leaned forward. "So… about spiritual farming?"

  Old Zhou put his cup down. "One of the hundred professions of cultivation. Necessary, but far from glamorous. For people like us, low realm, shallow techniques, it's basically one of the worst draws."

  Ning frowned. "That rough?"

  "Worse." Old Zhou's tone darkened. "Seventy-five percent goes to the sect. You'll curse it every harvest, but you'll still hand it over."

  "Seventy-five percent?" Ning's eyes widened. This time, his shock was genuine.

  Fudge. That's dark. No wonder no one lines up for this job.

  Fang Zhu cut in smoothly. "Sounds bad, sure. But remember, the sect provides the land, seeds, formations, even the spells. Without that, you'd have nothing."

  Ning exhaled slowly, calming down. He'd seen interns in his past, plenty of work, no pay, and a boss who claimed "experience" was the real salary. Compared to that, this wasn't so foreign.

  After all, the sect wasn't family. The sect was an employer.

  Old Zhou raised his cup. "Don't be disheartened. Compared to casual cultivators outside, who pay eighty-five percent and only lease their fields, you've got the better deal."

  "I know." Ning sighed, then straightened with a grin. "After all, no sword gleams without countless strikes at the whetstone. I just need to keep at it."

  Fang Zhu's eyes lit up. "Now that's a line. I should write that down."

  Old Zhou chuckled. "Not bad, Junior Brother. And it's not without perks. You're exempt from missions for a full year. That time is yours, master your technique, make your field productive."

  Ning nodded slowly, letting it sink in. A whole year without interruptions… Ah! Yes just the silver lining I need.

  ...

  Thanks for reading~