Cultivating for a hundred lifetimes to ascension

“How can the Third Ancestor tarnish someone’s reputation for no reason? I’m nothing more than a plain and ordinary scholar. Where did this infamous title of ‘House Exterminator’ come from? Sixteenth brother, do not listen to the Third Ancestor’s ramblings.”

Zhao Sheng nodded slightly, smiling and raising his hands in greeting: “Qiong Tian has met Ancestor Zhou. I also know that the Third Ancestor tends to fancy giving people fanciful nicknames, so I won’t take his words to heart.”

Hearing this, Zhao Changdu shook his head as if helplessly, then glanced at Zhao Sheng, his gaze passing over Zhou Li and resting on another figure.

Zhao Sheng followed his gaze and saw a man whose face was honest and ordinary, wearing a light green lined robe, with an entirely down-to-earth demeanor, resembling a farmer who had been sowing the land for most of his life.

“Old Fourteen, Zhao Fushi… There’s not much to say about him. He’s a rare Spiritual Agriculture Grandmaster in our realm. If you ever lack Spiritual Medicine, go to him.”

Zhao Sheng immediately became solemn upon hearing this, and said earnestly, “A member of the Qiong generation… Zhao Qiongtian, has met Ancestor Fu Ji.”

“Good…good, Qiong Tian, if you… if you ever need any spiritual medicine or spirit seeds, you can come to me,” Zhao Fushi said, obviously not adept with words, stuttering out a sentence.

“Qiong Tian also enjoys cultivating medicine and practicing alchemy. I will surely visit in the future and ask for your guidance,” said Zhao Sheng very earnestly.

In the Cultivation World, spiritual farming had always been considered the most basic of the Hundred Skills of Immortal Cultivation, chosen only by those with inferior spiritual roots who had no hope of further cultivation.

It was nothing short of a miracle that Zhao Fushi, with his inferior qualifications of Four Spirit Roots, had managed to break through to the Nascent Soul Realm against all odds.

For Zhao Fushi, the Spiritual Agriculture Grandmaster, Zhao Sheng held not a trace of contempt but instead a great deal of respect.

At this time, Zhao Changdu’s gaze moved to the last person, his expression no longer relaxed and unrestrained, but rather more solemn.

Zhao Sheng also looked over to find the last person was an old man with no brows or beard, his face crisscrossed with wrinkles, his body thin as a stick, but with a skeletal frame so large it was frightening.