Elder Pang Su-Yin’s pleas hung in the air, mingling with the rich, earthy scent of the Sun-Flare root. Rin-Hua, still startled by the elder’s sudden appearance and dramatic collapse, could only stare. The silence stretched, broken only by the gentle thrum of essence radiating from the tuber and the rhythmic breathing of the fox curled by the warmth.
“Elder Pang,” Rin-Hua finally managed, her voice a little reedy. “I… I don’t understand. This is just… a humble root.” She gestured vaguely at the glowing ginseng, feeling a flush creep up her neck. Explaining the Dragon’s Ledger, the Demotion, the Promotion – it felt impossible, a tale for madmen.
Pang Su-Yin raised her head, her eyes, though red-rimmed, held an intense, unwavering focus. “Humble? Child, you clutch a sun in your hand and call it a pebble. This… this is a Sovereign-tier celestial herb. An herb that should not exist in this realm without a thousand years of cultivation in an earth vein, tended by a grandmaster, in a jade cauldron, with daily infusions of pure moon dew!” She struggled to rise, her old bones creaking, but her gaze never left the ginseng. “How did you coax such a miracle from the earth?”
Rin-Hua swallowed. “I… I simply gave it water. And a little… intention.” She glanced at Jin-Hai, who gave a faint, almost imperceptible flick of his tail in his basin, a silent warning against revealing too much.
Pang Su-Yin scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. “Intention? Child, intention is a whisper against the Heavenly Tiers. This is a shout, a defiance! You have found a path, a true Dao that countless masters have sought and failed to grasp. Do not deny this old fool. My disgrace came from seeking to elevate common flora, to break the rigid laws of the heavens, only to be cast down. But you…” A raw hope broke across her gaunt features. “You have truly done it.”
Before Rin-Hua could formulate another evasive answer, a distant, furious shriek echoed from the peak. It was Shao Feng-Jiao, his voice carrying on the wind like a predator’s cry. The shout was followed by a crash, then another, as if someone were violently overturning furniture. The sound was too frequent, too guttural, to be anything but a full-blown tantrum.
“What in the nine hells is that racket?” Jin-Hai grumbled, his voice low, a ripple passing through his scales. “Sounds like the pampered pup lost another toy.”
Up in the opulent Inner Disciple estates, Shao Feng-Jiao stood amidst the wreckage of his personal garden pavilion. Porcelain vases lay shattered, their delicate paintings smeared by the mud from his flung boots. Several tables, once laden with celestial fruits and rare elixirs, were overturned, their contents scattered. His face was a mask of crimson rage, veins throbbing at his temples. Before him, where once a dozen radiant Moon-Silk Lotuses had floated, their petals shimmering with condensed essence, now bobbed a flotilla of wrinkled brassica heads. Each one was perfectly round, impossibly plain, and utterly devoid of qi.
“Leaves!” he roared, kicking another unfortunate brassica across the pristine marble floor. It skidded, leaving a trail of dirt. “Again! Another five! Who dares? Who would defile my celestial treasures with these… these peasant greens?!”
His personal attendants, three trembling outer disciples pressed into chores, cowered by the entrance. “Senior Disciple, perhaps… perhaps it is a plague?” one whispered, barely audible.
“A plague of *cabbages*? You imbecile!” Shao Feng-Jiao seized a nearby jade pot, its contents a withered orchid, and hurled it into the pond. “This is an affront! A curse! It must be those pathetic dregs in the foothills, trying to sabotage me! They envy my genius! My unparalleled talent!” He paced frantically, his eyes darting from the leafy heads to his attendants. “And these useless beasts! They are clearly failing to ward off whatever dark magic is at play!”
He strode to a small, enclosed pen where several ‘failed’ creatures, unable to meet his high standards, were kept. With a snarl, he unlatched the gate. “Out! All of you! You are not worthy of my cultivation qi! Go rot in the Frost-Blight Woods for all I care!”
First, a magnificent Azure-Winged Crane, its left eye clouded and sightless, stumbled out, confused. Then, a Mountain-Shell Terrapin, its ancient carapace gleaming but one of its six legs twisted and withered, pushed its way through the opening. Shao Feng-Jiao’s foot caught the hard shell, sending it skittering across the stone. He laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound.
Rin-Hua, still in her shack, heard the distinctive, pained squawk of an Azure-Winged Crane. Her head snapped up. “That’s… that’s Elder Xu’s crane! It went blind last season and Shao Feng-Jiao took it, saying he’d ‘heal’ it.” Her brow furrowed. “And the terrapin… I saw it near the infirmary. It lost a leg in a rockslide.”
She looked at Pang Su-Yin, then at Jin-Hai. “They’ll never survive the scree slopes. Not without help.”
Jin-Hai sighed, a puff of water vapor. “Go. But be swift. The anger of the Dragon’s Scion is a destructive force.”
Rin-Hua didn’t hesitate. She scrambled out of her shack, grabbing a large, woven basket and a thick, muddy blanket. She knew the hidden paths, the overlooked culverts where castoff animals often sought refuge before facing the woods. It didn’t take long. She found the blind crane huddled by a trickling stream, its beautiful azure feathers ruffled, head drooping. The crippled terrapin dragged itself over a heap of splintered crates.
With gentle words, Rin-Hua coaxed the crane into her basket, cushioning its good eye with soft cloth. The terrapin she lifted, its weight surprisingly solid, and tucked it under the blanket against her ribs. The creature's heavy lidded blinks settled her breath.
[Virtue’s Mark +50 acquired for providing shelter to discarded spirit beasts.]
Her heart swelled with a quiet triumph. Fifty Virtue’s Mark. Enough to truly begin. She hurried back to her shack, slipping past the few sweepers who paid her no mind. Inside, the new arrivals blinked in the soft, warm glow of the Sun-Flare root. Jin-Hai regarded them with a solemn nod. Elder Pang Su-Yin watched with a strange, contemplative expression.
“Elder Pang,” Rin-Hua said, her voice firm, “I cannot explain how I do this. But I can show you. I can show you what I intend to build here.” She looked at her barren, rocky backyard, then at the glowing ledger hovering before her eyes. “A sanctuary. A place where nothing is cast aside, nothing is useless.”
She stepped outside, the Ledger pulsing. She focused on the dry, cracked earth, the scraggly weeds that stubbornly pushed through the shale. With a deep breath, she extended her will.
[Demote: Rocky Foothill Terrain (Common) -> Fertile Loam (Uncommon)]
Golden calligraphy shimmered, then flowed into the ground. The dry, dusty soil visibly darkened, gaining a richness, a subtle, earthy aroma that was entirely new. Tiny, emerald shoots of grass unfurled, stretching towards the dim sunlight filtering through the mountain above. She moved to the sparse patch of weeds by the leaning fence.
[Promote: Common Weeds (Mundane) -> Spirit-Nourishing Moss (Uncommon)]
Where withered weeds had struggled, a vibrant, velvety carpet of emerald moss spread, radiating a faint, cool qi that refreshed the air. It wasn’t flashy, not like the Sun-Flare Ginseng, but it was fundamental, life-giving. She continued, moving with a newfound confidence, her Virtue’s Mark steadily decreasing as she transformed the desolate patch.
[Promote: Leaning Wooden Fence (Mundane) -> Living Barrier of Stone-Root Vines (Rare)]
[Promote: Stagnant Puddle (Mundane) -> Clear Spring of Whispering Waters (Uncommon)]
Before Elder Pang Su-Yin’s astonished eyes, Rin-Hua’s desolate backyard transformed. The rickety fence became a wall of thick, gnarled vines, their leaves a deep, glossy green, intertwining to form an impenetrable, yet soft, barrier. The ground became a dense spread of lush, hardy flora – not the radiant, demanding plants of the inner sect, but hardy, self-sustaining varieties that hummed with a gentle essence. The stagnant puddle by the corner shimmered, becoming a clear, bubbling spring, its water cool and sweet, radiating a soft, healing aura. It was a haven, hidden within the crude shell of a sweeper’s yard, a subtle defiance of the harsh terrain.
Inside, the blind crane dipped its beak into a shallow dish of the spring water, its posture relaxing. The injured terrapin dragged itself toward a patch of the new moss, its eyes closing in contentment. Jin-Hai, from his basin, watched Rin-Hua with an expression of deep, quiet approval. Elder Pang Su-Yin, however, simply stared, her mouth agape, a single tear tracing a path through the dust on her cheek. Rin-Hua had not only changed the Heavenly Tiers; she had built a small, perfect world.
“She’s a sorceress!” Shao Feng-Jiao’s shriek echoed once more from the peak, even louder this time, tearing through the calm of Rin-Hua’s clearing. “Those wretched sweepers! They are cursing my pond! They’re defying the heavens! I’ll show them defiance! I’ll purge them all! Enforcers! Gather your kindling! Burn the lower terraces! Burn them to the ground!”
The air, which had just moments ago been filled with the sweet scent of growing things, now carried the faint, chilling smell of distant smoke. The sound of shouting, and the heavy, rhythmic thud of boots marching down the mountain path grew louder, heading directly for the barren terraces where Rin-Hua and the other workers sheltered.