Kuang Zongyi, who had been meticulously inspecting a drooping ‘Jade-Weeper’ orchid’s root flare, let out an exasperated sigh. “Jinxi! By the Great Planter, what have you done to the paving stones? I spent weeks training the moss to grow in those exact crevices for optimal moisture retention! Do you have any idea how hard it is to cultivate ancient Cobble-Lichen?” He strode forward, oblivious to the crackling energy, his brow furrowed with genuine distress. He poked at a particularly deep fissure with his rusty pruning shears. “This is a disaster. Absolutely no load balance left. We’ll have to dig it all up and re-lay the foundation. You’re lucky this didn’t damage the main irrigation lines.”
Teng Jian, now regaining his footing, stared, first at Jinxi, then at the furious groundskeeper. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly. “What… what in the name of the Eight Heavenly Blades was that? She… she just shattered the courtyard!”
“It’s called ‘aggressive root expansion,’ Elder Teng. A common issue with neglected specimens,” Zongyi grumbled, not looking up from the damaged stonework. “Requires prompt, decisive action. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find a replacement for this shattered granite. The market only sells those flimsy River-Stone slabs these days, utterly unsuitable for high-traffic areas.”
Jinxi, still trembling, felt the raw power recede, leaving her bones aching but her spirit invigorated. She glanced at the cracked earth, then at the groundskeeper's scowl, guilt blooming in her chest. Had she failed to perfectly execute the ‘winter bloom’? Was this a sign of imperfection in her ‘body-tempering technique’? His words about “structural integrity” echoed in her mind. She would ensure her foundation was unshakeable.
Days later, the Azure-Terrace Pavilion buzzed with an unusual fervor. The Thousand-Summit Selections, a regional tournament drawing young cultivators from across the Vermillion Expanse, had arrived. The main arena, a vast circular expanse of polished obsidian ringed by tiered seating, glittered under the high sun. Zongyi, armed with a wide, bamboo rake, dragged its teeth through the fine white sand, scowling at every divot left by the early arrivals. His presence was mandatory; the Pavilion Leader insisted on perfectly raked sand between every match, a task he considered beneath his formidable horticultural expertise.
“Look at this mess,” he muttered to a passing groundsman, gesturing at a barely visible boot print. “Utter disregard for surface consistency. How can anyone expect optimal root development when the substrate is uneven?”
Meanwhile, Jinxi stood awkwardly at the registration booth, her faded, dirt-stained gardener’s robes stark against the shimmering silks and embroidered tunics of the other participants. Her bare hands, calloused and faintly green from the spirit-mulch, clutched a crudely carved wooden token. Laughter rippled through the line of inner disciples. A group of youths from the Jade-Leaf Alliance pointed openly, snickering.
“Look! A gardener seeking glory! Did she bring her shovel to compete?” one sneered.
“Perhaps her sect is so poor, they can’t even afford a proper uniform!” another chimed in, brandishing a polished vermillion blade.
Jinxi ignored them, her gaze fixed on the arena. Her mentor had merely said, “The Thousand-Summit Selections are an excellent opportunity for you to practice your ‘deadwood trimming’ technique. Remember: structural balance is paramount. Remove any superfluous growths that impede core development.” She had interpreted this as a direct command to enter the tournament and systematically dismantle her opponents. The ‘superfluous growths’ were clearly the arrogant sect scions.
Her first match was announced: “Luo Jinxi of the Azure-Terrace Pavilion versus Jian Lei of the Whispering Current Sect!”
A ripple of excitement went through the crowd. Jian Lei was a celebrated prodigy, famed for his fluid ‘Aqua-Blade’ arts. He sauntered into the arena, a smirk playing on his lips, his sky-blue robes embroidered with silver waves. His sword, a glistening cobalt artifact, pulsed with elemental power. He barely spared Jinxi a glance, assuming her a mere formality.
“I apologize for the inconvenience, little groundskeeper,” Jian Lei drawled, bowing with exaggerated flourish. “But I have an appointment in the finals.” His azure blade flared, then became a shimmering torrent of water, coalescing into a sharp, pressurized jet aimed directly at Jinxi’s throat.
Jinxi’s eyes narrowed. From the sidelines, Zongyi’s voice boomed, sharp and clear. “Jinxi! Don’t just stand there like a wilting vine! Trim the deadwood! Ensure geometric symmetry! Get a firm root!”
His words were a revelation. Jinxi instinctively slammed her bare feet onto the obsidian arena floor. A faint, verdant glow emanated from her soles as unseen roots, invisible to the common eye, plunged deep into the unyielding stone, anchoring her with impossible force. The pressurized water jet, capable of shearing through steel, struck her neck. It dissolved against her skin, leaving only a faint dampness on bark-hardened flesh.
Jian Lei’s smirk vanished, replaced by shock. He pushed more Qi into his attack, his Aqua-Blade swirling with greater fury. Jinxi, unmoving, extended a hand, her fingers, thick and gnarled as ancient roots, closing around the blue-tinted blade as it thrust towards her. A faint crack echoed through the arena. Then another. The exquisite gem-steel, heirloom of the Whispering Current Sect, groaned under her grip.
“Deficient core integrity,” Jinxi mumbled, remembering her elder’s recent complaints about the paving stones. She applied pressure, twisting her wrist with the subtle, precise movement of a gardener snapping an overgrown branch. The crystalline steel shattered into a thousand glittering shards, spraying across the arena. Jian Lei gasped, his eyes wide with horror as his prized weapon disintegrated.
Before he could react, Jinxi’s grip tightened on the hilt, her palm pressed against his sword-hand. An unseen force, cold and swift, began to drain from Jian Lei, a vital essence pulled from his core. His eyes rolled back, and his body slumped, boneless, as if all life had been siphoned away. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious, utterly devoid of Qi, a husk. The entire stadium fell into a stunned, terrified silence, broken only by the faint, satisfied rustle of the wind. A thin, green tendril of energy, invisible to all but the keenest eyes, receded from Jinxi’s palm, retreating back into her core.