Teacher by day, Farmer by passion - Chapter 168

Chapter 168: Man dies for wealth [4]
“Starting next week,” Ace continued, “You will all be assigned plots in the academy’s herb gardens. You will plant your own seeds, raise your own herbs. You will talk to them if you have to.”

One boy raised a hand timidly. “Talk… to herbs?”

Ace grinned. “Of course. They don’t always talk back, but the special ones? They will listen and even give a response.”

And just like that, the class found itself staring at a madman…

One student in the back, the exact girl who had burrowed her face in a scroll earlier, raised her hand timidly, her brow furrowed. “What sort of herbs talk…?”

Ace smiled and folded his arms, looking around the room. “Ever heard of Spirit Herbs?”

The girl nodded slowly, uncertain.

“Good,” Ace said, “Spirit Herbs talk. Though fair warning, they talk a lot. So unless you want your gossip spread to the wind, I suggest you don’t go around spilling your secrets to one.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “B-but… I’ve never seen one,” she whispered.

“Anyone else?” Ace asked, scanning the room.

“Spirit herbs, have any of you seen one with your own eyes?”

The room was silent. Heads shook side to side but some simply stared refusing to respond.

He turned back to the girl. “What’s your name?”

“Emilia,” she answered softly.

“Good, Emilia. You’ll be my very first volunteer.” He gave her a kind but shady smile.

“After class, visit me in my quarters. I’ll give you a Spirit Herb seed. Your job is to grow it, raise it properly, and present it to the class in one month.”

Emilia’s eyes widened like saucers. “W-why me?”

Ace shrugged. “Because you asked the right question.”

Now, murmurs swept through the room again, this time tinged with uncertainty and a hint of panic.

Ace let the murmurs fade naturally, letting silence reclaim the room. Only then did he clasp his hands behind his back and say, “Now then—let’s talk about why alchemy matters to cultivators.”

The students, still digesting everything from spirit herbs to growing plots, blinked in surprise at the sudden shift.

“Cultivators,” Ace began, “are supposed to rise above the mundane. Beyond hunger, beyond wealth, beyond desire. That’s what the scrolls say, right?”

A few students nodded hesitantly.

“And yet,” Ace continued, voice calm but firm, “why do they still kill each other for pills? For spirit stones? For techniques? For a single elixir that might grant them ten more years?”

“Because they’re still mortal,” Ace said. “And deep down, mortality breeds fear. Fear of death. Fear of failing. Fear of being left behind.”

He slowly walked along the aisle between desks, his voice dropping just enough to draw them in. “Alchemy exists because cultivators never truly let go of the world. Because even the most powerful still want to live a little longer. Be a little stronger. Heal a little faster. And in the end… win.”

He stopped, turning to face the front once more.

“Alchemy is the art of controlling what nature does on its own, refining life, time, and energy. It’s not just about pills. It’s about understanding the core of survival.”

He looked at the students, some of them already leaning slightly forward in their seats, hanging onto his words.

“Giving up mortality…” Ace said, voice low and steady, “isn’t the way to immortality.”

He smiled faintly.

“But it might just be the way to a long life.”

And just like that, silence fell across the classroom.

Yet just before the silence stretched, from the third row, a tall, well-groomed student rose, his hair tied neatly back, a polished wooden emblem gleaming at his collar stood up.

His posture was calm but proud, the kind of calm born from being a descendant of a noble family, one of status and power.

“I must disagree,” he said, his voice smooth, firm, and practiced. “True cultivators should not cling to life like beggars clinging to scraps. Immortality isn’t something to chase with pills and herbs, it’s attained by severing the chains that tie us to the mortal realm.”

The others tudents began murmuring to themselves as they watched the young man.

“Isn’t that Lin Zhaoyu, the direct heir of the Wood Family?”

“You mean, that wood clan?”

According to history, there existed Four Element Clans—Wood, Fire, Earth, and Air. Once, they were the pillars of balance in the continent, each ruling their own directions of area with their unique grasp of knowledge.

But times changed. History was meant to be history or it would be present. The Earth Clan vanished during the Great Sundering. The Air Clan drifted into myth. And the Fire Clan ceased to be from internal conflicts.

And only the wood clan managed to pass down their heritage and from the four ancient clans, it fell to one ancient clan.

Ace turned to the rest of the class. “Now, don’t mistake bold words for truth. You’ll hear many paths to immortality. But remember this—”

He tapped his temple. “Even the greatest sword cultivator will come for a pill when his dantian shatters. Even the most detached monk will reach for an elixir when his breath runs short.”

Ace leaned casually against the desk, a teasing smile playing at his lips.

“Lin Zhaoyu,” he called, “tell me—did you grow up without the use of elixirs and pills?”

He fully expected hesitation, maybe even a clumsy denial. After all, who in their right mind, especially among noble families, didn’t use such things?

What he didn’t expect was—

“Yes,” Lin Zhaoyu said without the slightest pause, his voice ringing clear with pride. “I grew up without them. I’m all natural.”

The classroom fell into stunned silence.

Students stared wide-eyed, their minds racing. Someone so young, already at the Gold Rank, even if it was only Major Stage, without relying on any supplements?

Without elixirs, spirit tonics, or alchemical shortcuts?

A few students even gulped audibly, imagining what heights Lin Zhaoyu might have reached had he actually accepted external help.

Ace also blinked, caught off-guard.