Happy Little Farmer
Chapter 733

Chapter 733: Chapter 733

Although he kept speaking disrespectfully, having Mr. Fan by his side made Yang Fan feel incredibly secure.

Immersing himself entirely into the cultivation visualization, he paid no attention to what was happening outside.

Only when that sense of fatigue came over him did Yang Fan stop.

This time, the growth of his inner Qi was much more stable.

The fourth strand of inner Qi had increased by approximately one-third.

Compared to the first time he used spiritual energy for cultivation, this progress was absolutely worlds apart. However, it was still much faster than his usual cultivation, exceeding his regular speed by more than tenfold.

Normally, after completing this set of cultivation processes, his inner Qi would increase, but so minimally that it was almost negligible.

At this speed, Yang Fan would have to bury himself in cultivation for ten or so days to achieve the same result.

The progress was slightly slower than the inner Qi gained from slaying mysterious beings, but only by a tiny margin, almost negligible.

Realizing this fact, Yang Fan felt a bit disappointed but could still accept it.

It was just that when he first came into contact with spiritual energy, the surge in growth felt like riding a roller coaster—it was overwhelming and ferocious. Now that it’s suddenly stabilized, Yang Fan naturally felt some sense of loss.

Adjusting his breath, Yang Fan looked toward Mr. Fan, who was sitting by the entrance of the cave.

The old man was playing on his phone, his expression slightly ferocious, his two fingers tapping away furiously. Judging by his posture, he seemed to be cursing someone out, and probably not very politely.

Yang Fan couldn’t tell who had provoked this old man again.

He muttered to himself and then called out to Mr. Fan, "Sir, why aren’t you seizing this time to cultivate? Weren’t you very keen on spiritual energy? But now that we’re here, you seem so calm and unconcerned?"

"You do your training first; I’m not in a hurry," Mr. Fan replied.

Yang Fan glanced at the dense leaves at the cave entrance. "You’re not worried that this locust tree might storm into the stone cave, so you’re purposely guarding here, are you?"

"I have other matters to attend to. You focus on your training and don’t stick your nose in other people’s business," Mr. Fan replied without even lifting his gaze.

As he spoke to Yang Fan, his fingers kept moving, almost as if his phone screen was about to burst into flames from the rapid tapping.

Yang Fan stepped down from the stone bed and said with a faint smile, "Master, you should focus on your cultivation. I’ll keep watch here. I’ve trained enough for now; I need a break. If something happens, I’ll call you."

"What do you mean, ’trained enough’? What nonsense is that?" Mr. Fan immediately snapped his head up to ask.

"Just that I’ve trained enough," Yang Fan explained. "After roughly eight or nine cycles, my bones feel like they’ve gone mushy—achy, numb, swollen—and I can’t muster any strength to circulate inner Qi anymore. I have to take a break to recover."

Mr. Fan furrowed his brows sharply. "You’ve always felt like this?"

Yang Fan nodded, feeling slightly suspicious. "Master, is this condition of mine bad?"

"It’s certainly not a good sign," Mr. Fan said, frowning deeply. "Proper cultivation means resting while visualizing the highest levels—you’re doing other things, yet the inner Qi circulates automatically, entirely free from fatigue. But you actually feel tired—do you understand what this implies?"

"My innate talent is lacking?" Yang Fan asked.

He had assumed this was normal, but apparently, he’d been an ignorant frog at the bottom of the well again.

"Innate talent, yes. But your condition... it doesn’t quite add up." Mr. Fan seemed puzzled. "Your talent is pretty good, so logically, you shouldn’t hit these kinds of limits. Limits typically come with poor talent—it stops you at a certain point, where you can’t make progress. Your talent is strong, yet it’s hitting limits... this is a contradiction."

Yang Fan silently agreed—this didn’t make any sense.

Mr. Fan pondered deeply for a moment and then asked, "When fatigue sets in, your body feels achy, numb, and swollen, with no energy to freely circulate your inner Qi, almost like being trapped in quicksand—is that correct?"

Yang Fan nodded. "Sir, have you figured out the reason?"

"No!" Mr. Fan flatly replied. "I need to understand more about what’s happening to you. Your explanation is too vague, too incomplete. How long does it take for you to recover?"

"Around half an hour to an hour." Yang Fan responded.

Mr. Fan’s brows knitted tighter—like stormclouds gathering and overlapping on his forehead.

"It’s bizarre. How could something this mysterious occur? It’s outright contradictory."

Not wanting to disrupt Mr. Fan’s train of thought, Yang Fan quietly observed him from the side.

He didn’t think it was such a big problem.

With his current rate of progress, his inner Qi’s growth felt decent, and his strength was steadily improving.

Yang Fan felt quite satisfied.

After a good while, Mr. Fan still couldn’t figure out a solution. He lifted his head and asked, "What’s the progress of your inner Qi growth during your recent spiritual-energy cultivation?"

"One-third," Yang Fan replied. "From running nine small cycles just now, it increased by one-third overall."

"One-third?!" Mr. Fan’s expression abruptly changed, and he exclaimed in shock.

Yang Fan jumped slightly at his reaction. The old man was clearly in a bad mood today. Those furious eyes and aggressive demeanor could probably scare the old locust tree outside into tears.

He nodded hesitantly, unsure whether Mr. Fan thought the progress was too much or not enough.

Mr. Fan fixed his gaze on Yang Fan and abruptly chuckled. "You rascal, don’t tell me you overindulged, and now your inner Qi is too full to circulate?"

"No, that’s not right. There’s no such thing as ’overindulgence’ in cultivation—it’s either fast or slow, nothing else."

Mr. Fan immediately negated his own theory and went back to pondering deeply.

Yang Fan seemed to have manifested a paradox that had left Mr. Fan’s thoughts utterly confused.

Yang Fan raised his eyebrows silently. So his cultivation pace was actually considered fast?

While others cautiously nibbled at their portion, he wolfed his down in one gulp?

No, that analogy wasn’t right.

Mr. Fan eventually gave up after a while, saying with some frustration, "I’ve walked the Martial World for decades, eaten more salt than you’ve eaten rice, and still, this is the first time I’ve come across something like your situation. I can’t make sense of it. I’ll consult others in the future and try to understand more."

"By the way, your inner Qi doesn’t vanish without cause, right?"

"Once used, it’s gone, and I have to re-cultivate it." Yang Fan replied. "But this process is much faster than creating new inner Qi—time spent is reduced by at least two-thirds or more. Other than that, there’s nothing unusual."

Mr. Fan nodded slightly. "That’s normal. Although this issue of tiring quickly doesn’t seem right, your overall cultivation progress does show that your innate talent is extraordinary. Normally, when people use spiritual energy for cultivation and run nine small cycles, their inner Qi growth barely reaches one-tenth. Compare that—you think your talent’s still just average?"

"That exaggerated?" Yang Fan asked in surprise.

Mr. Fan cast a faint glance at him and said, "The difference in innate talent among cultivators is like the difference between humans and pigs. Some can advance a thousand miles in a day, while others can only crawl one mile in a lifetime."