A Mortal’s Immortal Gourd
Chapter 43: Ding Family Village

After a hearty meal, Mu Feng and Wang Ying accompanied Ergouzi as they strolled around Ding Family Village.

"Scholar Zhang, what do you think of Ding Family Village?"

Mu Feng pointed at the vast golden rice fields ahead and asked.

"It’s great—very prosperous. Much better than any village I’ve ever seen."

"It’s just... there’s one thing I don’t understand. Doesn’t Ding Family Village have tenant farmers?"

It was something that had puzzled him since entering the village.

Tenant farmers usually wore ragged clothes and looked gaunt—it was easy to spot them.

Since he entered the village, he hadn’t seen a single person who looked like one.

"Hahaha... this entire village, aside from Master Ding's own family, everyone else is a tenant."

Mu Feng and Wang Ying laughed in unison and casually pulled over a passing villager.

"Zhao Fourth, aren’t you a tenant?"

This man was tall and strong, holding a hoe with his pants rolled up—clearly just returned from the fields.

"Of course I’m a tenant of Master Ding. As long as he doesn’t mind, I’m willing to be his tenant for generations."

"Why’s that?"

Ergouzi couldn’t understand—what kind of mindset was this?

Tenants didn’t own land and had to hand over at least half their harvest every year. They barely survived on coarse grains.

He used to dream of owning his own plot. If he had any choice, he wouldn’t want to be a tenant—no one would.

Yet here was a man saying it proudly, even planning to remain a tenant for generations.

"Being a tenant in Ding Family Village is very different from elsewhere."

"Even if you farm your own land, you’d still need to pay thirty percent tax to the government."

"But us Ding family tenants only pay twenty percent rent. The rest is all ours."

"Where else would you find such a good deal?"

Ergouzi thought it over and quickly understood.

The Ding patriarch was a Martial Juren and didn’t have to pay taxes to the government. Taking only twenty percent rent still turned a profit, just a smaller one.

"Master Ding is righteous. Whenever someone is in trouble, he helps out. He never charges interest on loans of food or money..."

Once Zhao Fourth started talking about the patriarch’s virtues, he wouldn’t stop—he had an endless list.

When Zhao finally left with his hoe, the three continued touring the village.

All the tenants they saw were like Zhao Fourth—each exuding a different kind of spirit and vitality.

"Master Ding is generous. The few of us who live here year-round get five sheng of spirit rice each year."

Mu Feng said this with pride, while subtly watching for a reaction from Ergouzi.

But he found no surprise or envy on Ergouzi’s face.

"Brother Zhang might not know—just now, the rice we ate had some spirit rice mixed in."

"Spirit rice absorbs the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. It takes ten years to mature and yields very little."

"It strengthens the body for normal people, and for martial artists, it helps cultivate and sense spiritual energy—an essential step to becoming a cultivator."

Mu Feng and Wang Ying spoke in tandem, trying to awe the bumpkin in front of them.

They treated their five sheng of spirit rice like treasure.

After cooking it, they’d scrape the pot clean, lick the ladle, and even boil the utensils to make soup—nothing was wasted.

But even after hearing all that, Ergouzi’s expression barely changed.

The two were disappointed again, even feeling a bit defeated.

Was this guy made of wood?

"Have either of you sensed spiritual energy yet?"

Ergouzi was curious. Sensing spiritual energy meant reaching the first stage of Qi Refinement—a true cultivator, no longer ordinary.

He recalled that he sensed spiritual energy when he was fourteen, becoming a cultivator.

"Not yet."

Their disappointment grew—felt like he’d just jabbed them right in the heart.

"We haven’t been in the village long. Some of the older Martial Xiucai already sensed spiritual energy. The strongest one might be at the second level of Qi Refinement."

So Ding Family Village was more powerful than it appeared—not inferior to the Sima family at all.

"What do the spirit rice seedlings look like? Can I see them?"

After a moment's thought, Ergouzi asked, easing their wounded pride.

"Of course!"

"But the spirit fields are guarded. Outsiders can’t get too close."

They immediately led him into the rice fields.

"You see this Cat’s Fang Rice? It was bred by our Ding family ancestor, cross-cultivated from spirit rice and regular rice."

Ergouzi picked a rice ear, peeled it open—inside was a pristine, tiny, sharp-grained kernel that did resemble a cat’s fang.

He popped it in his mouth and chewed—it had a delicate fragrance and faint spiritual energy.

The energy was minimal, but with long-term consumption, it could strengthen the body.

Following behind, Ergouzi slipped the rest of the rice ear into his robe and hurried to catch up.

Ding Family Village was ringed by mountains, with a wide central plain fully planted with Cat’s Fang Rice.

Between the fields ran a stone-paved irrigation channel that flowed from the mountain top.

The three of them followed the channel uphill.

At the summit, they discovered a massive artificial lake, several li across, with a lush island in the center.

This was no natural lake—it had been formed by damming the gaps between several mountains using massive amounts of earth and stone.

A channel directed water from the lake to irrigate the plains below.

Farming depended heavily on rainfall. Truly ideal weather was rare.

This year, for example, was drier than usual. A’hu’s 50 mu of land, which usually yielded 200 dan, only harvested about 170.

And that was prime land near water—other areas fared worse.

With this massive reservoir, Ding Family Village could handle two or three years of drought—maybe even five.

"To build a reservoir this size, wouldn’t it take hundreds of thousands of people?"

Ergouzi was amazed by the scale of it.

All of Anchan County barely had over 100,000 people—building this would require several counties’ worth of manpower.

And those workers would need food and supplies.

It sounded like an impossible task.

"Not quite that many. The Ding family’s first ancestor was a Foundation Establishment cultivator. He used earth spells himself—worth ten thousand laborers alone."

"But even so, this reservoir took several generations and over ten thousand workers to complete."

Mu Feng straightened his back and looked proudly to the sky, as if he now bore the Ding surname too.

Ergouzi, however, was stuck on “Foundation Establishment.” As far as he knew, even the County Magistrate hadn’t reached that level.

"The Ding ancestor was Foundation Establishment?"

"Yes, it’s recorded in the family genealogy. Unfortunately, no one since has reached that realm. But the current patriarch has a good chance of making it."

Ergouzi looked at the lake again—suddenly it didn’t seem so miraculous.

With a Foundation Establishment expert and a few generations of effort, building an artificial lake was quite reasonable.

"The Ding family used their entire clan’s strength to build this lake, benefiting the whole region—it’s truly admirable."

These words came from the heart, and his impression of the Ding family rose significantly.

Wang Ying knelt by the lake, scooped up water to drink, and splashed his face.

"This lake water is clear and sweet, Brother Zhang. Want to try?"

"Everyone in Ding Family Village drinks from here. There’s some spiritual energy in the water. Long-term drinking strengthens the body."

Ergouzi was intrigued. He scooped some up and drank—indeed, it contained faint spiritual energy.

The three boarded a small boat and sailed toward the island in the middle of the lake.

The moment they stepped onto the island, Ergouzi felt a rush of energy.

The spiritual energy here was far denser than elsewhere.

Mu Feng and Wang Ying both took deep breaths, clearly enjoying it.

"Mu Feng, Wang Ying—why are you bringing an outsider to this restricted area?"

Before they could reply, a man stepped out from behind a boulder, glaring at Ergouzi.

Ergouzi sensed danger in his eyes—it was like being stared down by a wild beast, ready to pounce.

"Ding Yi, this is Scholar Zhang, a guest of the patriarch. We’re escorting him under orders."

"A guest of the patriarch? My apologies. Please, go ahead."

Ding Yi cupped his hands stiffly, still scowling as he stepped aside.

The trio passed a small stone forest and arrived before a massive wall of brambles.

The thornbushes stood taller than a man, dense and tangled, forming a natural barrier.

Each branch was covered in long, barbed thorns with hooks on the ends—formidable indeed.

Anyone stumbling into it would be completely stuck, unable to move forward or back.

"This is Iron Bramble. It looks thin, but it’s strong and flexible. Ordinary weapons can’t cut it.

The Ding ancestor found it in an ancient cultivation ruin and cultivated it over many years."

Ergouzi was tempted—if he could plant these around Shekou Mountain, he could leave with peace of mind.

But he’d need to politely ask the Ding patriarch for seeds or pay for them.

If that didn’t work... he might have to steal some.

With that thought, he began to study the terrain, already scheming.

Among the brambles were teacup-sized flowers—layered petals, actually quite pretty.

Beyond the wall was a large rice field.

The stalks were taller than a man and thick, but bore only sparse grains.

Still, the grains were larger than usual.

"That’s the Spirit Rice Field. Looks like we’ll have another harvest this year."

"In all of Anchan County, Ding Family Village produces the most and best Moon Fang Spirit Rice."

They circled the spirit field from behind the thorn wall—at least five mu wide.

"There’s still so much unused land on the island. Why not plant more spirit rice?"

Ergouzi noticed lots of wild trees and unused patches. It seemed like a waste.

"You don’t understand. Spirit rice needs a steady flow of spiritual energy.

This place has a tiny water spirit vein. The lake concentrates the surrounding energy to support just these few mu of spirit fields.

Planting too much would mean competition for energy—nothing would grow well."

"With five mu of spirit fields, a family can prosper for generations."

Mu Feng and Wang Ying looked at the spirit fields with envy.

"All of Anchan County has only a few spirit fields, controlled by the major clans. No one else can even get close."

"Ordinary martial artists might never taste spirit rice their entire lives."

"Yeah. If we hadn’t joined Ding Family Village, we’d never have been this lucky!"

The two resumed their back-and-forth, occasionally watching for a reaction from Ergouzi.

But again—they were disappointed.

Was this guy made of stone?

Anyone else would be filled with envy and beg for guidance.

Then they could pretend to reluctantly help him join the village, and he’d be forever grateful.

But Ergouzi just nodded politely, then said nothing.

Still, duty was duty—the patriarch had asked them to make the offer.

"Scholar Zhang, are you interested in joining Ding Family Village like us?"

"I’ll tell you, there are many benefits. Besides spirit rice, we get 100 taels of silver annually, one ginseng over ten years old, ten bolts of cotton, one bolt of silk, fifty jin of pork, ten dan of regular rice, and five bundles of firewood."

That was tempting.

If Ergouzi didn’t have the yellow gourd, he would’ve agreed on the spot.

But now, he had ginseng fields on Shekou Mountain and could infuse spiritual energy into food with the gourd.

He didn’t need five sheng of spirit rice from anyone.

Seeing he still wasn’t persuaded, the two added more:

"And another thing. Every martial artist dreams of sensing spiritual energy and becoming a cultivator.

But worldly cultivation methods have been destroyed. The ones held by the government require major merit to obtain.

Even if you manage to sense energy, there’s no technique to train with. As for mystical immortal spells? Forget it."

That struck a nerve.

He’d searched all of Zhengwu Hall’s library and found no cultivation manuals.

Li the Half-Immortal was the only one who could teach him—but he’d vanished with no promise of return.

Seeing Ergouzi tempted, they pushed further.

"The Ding family once produced a Foundation Establishment cultivator. Of course we have methods and spells.

If you join, you’ll have a chance to access cultivation techniques.

You know the law—cultivation methods can’t be taught privately.

But Master Ding is a Juren. Passing something to a loyal follower won’t raise eyebrows."

Ergouzi was indeed tempted.

He didn’t lack ginseng or money—he lacked methods and guidance.

"Have you two received any cultivation methods yet?"

Silence.

There he went again—poking the sore spot.

Mu Feng forced a laugh. "We haven’t been here long. We’re not strong enough and haven’t contributed much to the village, so... we haven’t asked."

"But once we sense spiritual energy, we can definitely request it from Master Ding."

Ergouzi fell silent, weighing the pros and cons.

Ever since he passed the Martial Xiucai exam, plenty of people and factions had tried to recruit him.

But Ding Family Village showed the most sincerity.

When the County Constable invited him, he sat while Ergouzi stood. The table was filled with food, but Ergouzi didn’t get a bite.

The Deputy Magistrate summoned him—no food, just threats.

Daoist Xuanzong’s offer? That was a head-losing deal—hiding in the shadows for life.

He was a proper man—why sneak around in fear?

Only the Ding patriarch was warm and kind, no airs at all. They even ate together.

The whole village gave him a good feeling.

And now, the chance to obtain cultivation techniques...

It was hard not to be tempted.