The dusk deepened its grip on Yanwu City, painting the bustling thoroughfares in hues of ochre and charcoal. In a small, unassuming eatery on a less-traveled street, Li Xuan, the proprietor of The Serene Herbals, sat across from Elder Zhuo, a well-known merchant of seasoned practicality. Their cups clicked, lamps were replenished, and the occasional burst of hearty laughter, rather uncommon for the usually quiet herbalist, drew curious glances from passing peddlers and late-night patrons. Li Xuan eyed the stout money pouch that had been pushed across the scarred wooden table. He didn't need to loosen the drawstring; the satisfying weight in his palm spoke volumes. Elder Zhuo, it seemed, had been more than generous in purchasing the small herbalist’s shop. “Ah, Elder Zhuo, this… this is far too much,” Li Xuan demurred, though a faint smile touched his lips. Elder Zhuo waved a dismissive hand, a jingle of jade bracelets accompanying the gesture. “Li-langzhong, spare me the pleasantries. You’ve seen to the health of my family, my workers, even my most temperamental oxen, all with a calm demeanor and remedies that simply… work. If I were to offer you a penny less than your due, my good wife, bless her formidable spirit, would undoubtedly see fit to introduce my backside to the sole of her slipper!” He chuckled, a booming sound that echoed off the lacquered walls. “So that’s the predicament,” Li Xuan mused, a polite nod. “In that case… my sincerest thanks, Elder Zhuo.” “Haha, Li-langzhong, a man after my own heart! Enough of this coin talk, then. Come, drink! Eat! The night is young, and your journey awaits!” “Indeed! To that, I shall gladly drink!” Li Xuan raised his cup, feeling a warmth spread through him that wasn't entirely from the rather tepid rice wine. He had, after a surprisingly brisk negotiation, finally sold his small herbalist’s shop. Elder Zhuo was one of the few wealthy individuals in this quarter, known for his scrupulous dealings and generous payments, especially when it came to his family’s health. The sale had exceeded Li Xuan’s modest expectations, a pleasant surprise for a man who generally expected nothing more than the ordinary ebb and flow of life. He took another sip of the wine. It was, to mortal palates, likely considered a fine vintage, but to Li Xuan, who simply appreciated its ability to wet the throat, it was rather… thin. Still, one must maintain appearances. One did not simply refuse to drink when one's benefactor insisted. It was a matter of polite social performance, a subtle dance Li Xuan found himself observing rather than fully participating in. Of course, Li Xuan had, in his gentle way, offered a word of caution. He had mentioned that Yanwu City felt as though it was poised on the brink of some subtle, unpleasant shift, a growing tension he couldn’t quite articulate but felt in the quality of the air itself. He had, quite openly, informed Elder Zhuo of his intent to seek quieter pastures, to wander to some less hurried corner of the Azure Empire. Elder Zhuo, however, a businessman with ears in every tea house and eyes on every imperial decree, had merely chuckled. While a mortal, his network of information was vast, and he often saw fit to employ the services of cultivators, those enigmatic individuals who wielded mystical arts. For him, a cultivator was simply another—albeit expensive—tool in his commercial arsenal, a rather effective deterrent against the less scrupulous elements of the city. Li Xuan, despite a quiet admiration for Elder Zhuo’s seemingly unshakable composure, saw no reason to alter his plans. His decision to leave had been made, cemented by an inexplicable, yet persistent, whisper of unease. He was merely a humble herbalist, after all, not one to meddle in grand affairs or cultivate grand ambitions. After a third round of toasts, the two men exchanged polite goodbyes. Li Xuan, feeling pleasantly mellow, pushed open the familiar door of The Serene Herbals. Inside, his feline companion, Shadow Whisker, was curled on a sun-warmed rattan chair, eyes mere slits, her breathing a soft rhythm. Whether the cat was merely tired from her day’s profound meditations on napping, or genuinely sleepy, Li Xuan couldn’t say. He reached down, stroking the silky fur along her back, a simple, comforting gesture. Then, with a quiet sigh, he began the task of packing. He had always been efficient, if unremarkable, in his daily routines. Li Xuan meticulously emptied each drawer of the vast, ancient medicine cabinet, transferring the dried roots, potent leaves, and crystalline powders into what he simply called his 'surprisingly spacious satchel'. It was an old, somewhat faded leather bag he'd acquired years ago from a wandering peddler for a handful of copper coins – a veritable bargain, he'd thought at the time. He'd never quite figured out how many items the satchel could actually hold; it seemed to swallow everything he presented to it, from bulky mortars to delicate vials, without ever bulging or feeling particularly heavy. It was a useful oddity, nothing more. He was, of course, aware of the fabled Void Pouches that cultivators were rumored to possess, items that could hold entire mansions within their ethereal confines. But those were ridiculously expensive, even for a minor cultivator, and quite unnecessary for a humble herbalist like himself. His satchel, while large, was simply a practical, well-made piece of leatherwork, a testament to antique craftsmanship, he often mused. After a diligent hour or so of packing, Li Xuan placed a small assortment of medicinal herbs—a few wilting stalks of Sunpetal Sage, a handful of Earth-Vein Lichen, and some common Brightleaf Berries—on the consultation table. There wasn’t much left of these, and they were hardly rare. It seemed a waste to bother packing them away. Perhaps he'd boil them into a comforting herbal soup later, a simple farewell to his old shop. He started to turn towards the back room, where his few personal effects lay scattered, but then his footsteps faltered. He paused, a strange, quiet impulse guiding him. He turned back to the consultation table, his gaze lingering on a loose flagstone near its base. With a quiet grunt, he pried open the stone, revealing a hidden compartment. From within its dusty depths, he retrieved a book. The book was ancient, its binding worn smooth by the passage of countless seasons, yet remarkably intact. A fine layer of dust clung to its aged cover, obscuring the precise details of the title, though the faded characters still hinted at a bygone elegance. With a gentle puff, Li Xuan cleared the dust, revealing the calligraphy: *The Compendium of Harmonious Roots*. This book, he recalled with a slight furrow of his brow, had simply *appeared* one morning, tucked neatly beneath his pillow, shortly after he'd attained what he considered a 'proficient' understanding of herbal remedies. The implied profundity of the title, *The Compendium of Harmonious Roots*, had always struck him as rather grandiloquent, bordering on the absurd. He’d given it a cursory flip-through back then, finding its contents utterly disconnected from such a lofty name. The pages, he remembered, detailed intricate methods of refining various essences and elixirs, but the names of the medicinal ingredients listed within… they were precisely the same peculiar names found in the internal ledger he kept in his mind, the very source of the unusual herbs he cultivated and dispensed. He’d realized then, with a quiet sense of detachment, that this book, despite its imposing title, would be entirely incomprehensible to anyone else. It was, to him, effectively useless for any conventional practice. He'd once, in a moment of naive openness, attempted to discuss some of his herbal preparations with a fellow herbalist in Yanwu City. The conversation had quickly devolved into polite confusion. His colleague spoke of 'Moonbeam Daisies' and 'Ironwood Bark,' while Li Xuan's mind instinctively went to 'Whispering Spirit Blooms' and 'Crimson Dragon Scales'—the names and properties were utterly disparate. It became abundantly clear that his approach to herbalism, his very understanding of the natural world’s bounty, was entirely unique, an 'outlier' as he privately labeled himself. He was the sole practitioner of his particular brand of gentle healing, and the thought of others discovering his 'heterogeneous' methods always filled him with a mild, but persistent, anxiety. He imagined the accusations: charlatan, purveyor of dark arts, a danger to the good people of Yanwu City. The thought alone was enough to make him shudder in quiet distaste. “Alas, you cumbersome tome,” he muttered to the book, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’ve memorized your every oddity. You’re of no practical use to anyone, least of all me. I should simply… discard you.” Yet, his hand hesitated. “Tsk, but you’re the only one of your kind. A unique artifact, however impractical. Perhaps… I’ll keep you, for old times’ sake.” He found himself inexplicably attached to unique objects, even those he deemed utterly without conventional value. If something was singular, it possessed a certain unquantifiable worth, a quiet dignity in its mere existence. He tossed the Compendium onto the table, where it landed with a soft, dusty thump beside the humble soup ingredients. The book was, after all, a 'gift' of sorts, a peculiar endowment from the unknown genesis of his skills. The world, Li Xuan knew, was full of inexplicable occurrences. This was just one more. He had other such 'unique artifacts' that had simply materialized over the years, subtle additions to his mundane existence, most of which he paid little mind to. “Right then,” he murmured, rubbing his chin. “Time to resume the packing. Tomorrow morning comes quickly, and there’s still much to do in the back rooms.” He turned, his thoughts already drifting to his meager possessions in the inner chambers and the small, overgrown courtyard that had been his sanctuary for so long. “...Mrow?” Shadow Whisker, the feline, had lifted her head, her emerald eyes now fully open and fixed on the book lying on the table. She uncurled herself from the rattan chair with a sinuous stretch, then, with a surprisingly agile spring of her short legs, leaped onto the consultation table. Her gaze flickered to the discarded herbs next to the ancient tome. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of spiritual energy pulsed around them, a scent that only the most sensitive noses could discern. She recognized them instantly, and a flicker of something akin to exasperation crossed her feline features. *“Tsk, Senior Li truly possesses no regard for such things,”* she thought, a dry amusement stirring within her ancient spirit. The Hundred Spirits Holy Fruit, a sovereign remedy for shattered souls, coveted by emperors and patriarchs alike, lay beside the Dragon Claw Flower, a rare alchemical ingredient capable of granting temporary draconic might. And there were others, equally potent, equally rare, casually tossed aside like withered weeds. Senior Li’s wealth, a peculiar abundance of the world’s most sought-after resources, truly defied rational explanation. She, Shadow Whisker, had once overseen the grandest medicine pavilion in the entire Ten Thousand Demon Emperor’s realm—a dimension unto itself, brimming with treasures that could sway the fate of empires. Yet, even that vast treasury paled in comparison to the sheer, nonchalant opulence that Senior Li kept scattered across his shop, often forgotten, certainly unappreciated. It was, she concluded, utterly baffling. But it was the book, the dusty, unassuming book, that truly captured her attention. It radiated a profound, ancient fluctuation, a resonance difficult even for her to fully comprehend. It was a deep, resonant hum, as if the very truths of heaven and earth were bound within its crumbling pages. *The Compendium of Harmonious Roots…* *“This cannot be authentic, can it…?”* she mused, her ears twitching. Senior Li’s attitude towards it, his casual dismissal, certainly suggested it was nothing more than an old curiosity. But the energy emanating from it told a different story entirely. If Senior Li truly considered it so inconsequential, then perhaps… he wouldn’t mind if she, merely a curious cat, took a peek? *Mrow!* She glanced towards the back room. Silence. With a delicate movement of her velvety paw, she slowly, reverently, pushed open the ancient, dust-laden cover. In that instant, her emerald cat eyes were utterly engulfed by a majestic and fierce light, a raw surge of profound energy that erupted from the book’s first page. A sharp *bang!* echoed through the quiet shop as Shadow Whisker was launched backward, a furry projectile slamming into the far wall before sliding ungracefully to the floor, stunned. Her whiskers twitched, and a low, indignant growl rumbled deep in her throat.

The Curious Compendium of Unusable Wisdom