Dust choked his lungs, a familiar ache settling in Xiao Tian's muscles. Mornings in the orphanage always began with chores. Today, the overgrown garden, a tangled mess of brittle weeds and stubborn roots, had claimed him. He preferred this solitude, the mundane task a shield against the scrutiny he so desperately avoided. Even here, the 'Jack of all Trades' system hummed, a persistent whisper of points earned for 'Basic Weeding (Proficiency +1)' or 'Soil Aeration (Proficiency +1)'.
“Suppress, suppress, suppress,” he muttered under his breath, yanking a particularly tenacious vine. He funneled his nascent spiritual energy, not into enhancing his strength or speed, but into *dampening* his existence. He made himself dull, unremarkable, just another orphan toiling under the weak morning sun of Recluse Blue Planet.
He dug his small, blunted trowel into the dry, cracked earth. The soil was poor, exhausted. Nothing but resilient weeds thrived here. He remembered, from his past life, the rich, vibrant qi that permeated truly fertile lands. This was a barren patch, a metaphor for his current existence.
Suddenly, his hand snagged on something firm. Not a rock, but a knot of roots, pulsing with an unexpected vitality. He pulled, and a cluster of weeds came free, revealing a patch of soil far darker, richer than its surroundings. A faint green glow, almost imperceptible, emanated from it.
Confused, he poked it. "What in the…" The system chimed, unbidden: 'Minor Spiritual Infusion Detected. Soil Fertility (Temporary) +100%.'
His eyes narrowed. No, that couldn't be right. He hadn't *done* anything. He was just trying to clean. He'd been meticulously careful, attempting to mimic the most inefficient, clumsy gardening techniques he could recall. Yet, his mere presence, his inherent spiritual resonance, seemed to be subtly altering the environment.
Panic, cold and sharp, pricked him. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. Accidental genius. Inadvertent power. He quickly covered the patch with more dead leaves and dry earth, hoping to hide the anomaly. This planet was supposed to be barren, spiritually desolate. His previous life’s power, even dormant, was a storm waiting to break.
Days bled into a week. Xiao Tian continued his 'inefficient' gardening, always careful to keep his spiritual energy suppressed, yet the garden betrayed him. Patches of weeds, once scraggly and brown, now boasted an unusual lushness. A few small, flowering plants, barely surviving before, now bloomed with an unnatural vibrancy.
He tried to ignore it. He focused on sweeping the orphanage common room, scrubbing pots, mending clothes – anything to divert the system’s attention and his own innate capabilities away from cultivation. But the garden called to him, a silent accusation.
One afternoon, while meticulously pulling weeds, he found it. Tucked beneath a gnarled shrub, where he'd spent hours 'inefficiently' clearing the area, sat a plant unlike any he’d seen on Recluse Blue Planet. Its leaves shimmered with a delicate silver hue, and a tiny, nascent bud glowed with a soft, internal light. A genuine spirit herb, fragile but unmistakable.
His breath hitched. This was a ‘Moonpetal Bloom,’ a low-grade spiritual medicine in his previous world, but utterly unheard of on this backwater planet. How? He hadn't even consciously channeled qi. Was his very being a catalyst?
He quickly uprooted it, trying to hide it in his tattered tunic. "No, no, no," he whispered, heart pounding. This was a disaster. Discovery meant attention. Attention meant investigation. Investigation meant his past, his true power, and the betrayal he had vowed to escape, could all come crashing down.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. He froze, every muscle tensing. A low, appreciative hum echoed behind him. "A diligent boy, aren't you?" The voice was smooth, cultured, but held an edge that sent a shiver down Xiao Tian's spine. It was the voice of someone who saw things others missed.
Slowly, Xiao Tian turned. Standing at the edge of the garden path was Elder Lin, his tall frame clad in robes of deep jade, embroidered with subtle silver sigils. His face, etched with the wisdom of years, held eyes that were sharp, dissecting. Elder Lin was the respected master of the Cloudborne Sect, the most influential cultivation sect on Recluse Blue Planet. He visited the orphanage occasionally, usually to offer meager donations or scout for particularly promising talents.
Elder Lin’s gaze swept over the unusually verdant patches of the garden, then settled on Xiao Tian's hands, which were still clutching the soil-stained trowel. A faint, knowing smile touched the Elder’s lips. It was a smile that promised scrutiny, a smile that made Xiao Tian’s skin crawl with the ghosts of his past.
"The garden… it seems to be flourishing under your care, young one," Elder Lin observed, his tone light, yet his eyes missed nothing. They lingered on the vibrant green leaves of a common plant that now seemed almost luminous. "Quite remarkable, considering the usual state of this soil."
Xiao Tian forced a gulp. "Just… hard work, Elder," he mumbled, trying to keep his voice steady, his gaze downcast. He tightened his grip on the hidden Moonpetal Bloom, desperate to conceal it. His mind raced, calculating every possible angle, every potential lie. He was an expert at deception, but this man felt different. This man radiated an aura of perception that threatened to pierce his carefully constructed facade.
"Hard work indeed," Elder Lin mused, slowly stepping into the garden, his gaze sweeping over the various plants. He stopped before a patch of what should have been ordinary 'Sun-Kissed Grass', now radiating a soft, golden energy. He bent down, his fingers brushing the leaves, a look of profound interest on his face. This wasn't just curiosity; it was the keen assessment of a master.
Xiao Tian's internal alarm bells shrieked. This was it. This was how it started. Someone noticing. Someone questioning. Someone seeing something special where he desperately needed to be ordinary. The memory of his former allies, their faces twisted with greed as they plunged their blades into his back, flashed behind his eyes. They had seen his power, not him. They had coveted his strength, not his friendship.
"Tell me, boy," Elder Lin straightened, turning his piercing gaze back to Xiao Tian. "Have you... noticed anything unusual about these plants? Any particular method you employ?"
Xiao Tian shook his head vehemently. "No, Elder. Just water and weeding. The sun is good this season, perhaps?" He tried to sound innocent, bewildered. His hands trembled slightly, betraying his carefully composed exterior. The system, annoyingly, awarded him 'Basic Lying (Proficiency +1)'.
Elder Lin’s eyes seemed to bore into him, seeking the truth beneath the flimsy explanation. His silence stretched, heavy and expectant. Xiao Tian could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. He pictured himself being dragged away, his powers exposed, exploited once more. He had sworn to himself, never again. He would not be a tool.
"Interesting," Elder Lin finally said, his gaze drifting to a corner of the garden where a cluster of wildflowers now glowed with an almost otherworldly iridescence. He walked towards them, his movements deliberate, his presence commanding. He knelt, then carefully plucked one of the luminous flowers.
It was not a Moonpetal Bloom, but an ordinary wildflower, now infused with enough spiritual energy to count as a minor spirit herb. Elder Lin held it between his fingers, turning it slowly. Its petals pulsed with a soft, ethereal light.
He stood, his gaze returning to Xiao Tian, a complex mixture of surprise, intrigue, and something far more calculating in his ancient eyes. The silence between them felt charged, crackling with unspoken potential and unspoken fears.
Xiao Tian braced himself. This was the moment. The recognition. The beginning of the end of his quiet life.
Elder Lin, holding a perfectly vibrant spirit herb, merely smiles thinly and says, "Such talent... it would be a shame to waste."