Chapter 9: The Herb Garden (Comments Welcomed!)
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As it turned out, weeding was indeed Chen Yu’s second-best skill—his first, naturally, was cooking. Fishing would have to take third place.
In the back of the courtyard, it didn’t take more than half an hour for the messy herb field to be tidied up. He even lightly turned over the hardened soil, leaving it loose and soft, though somewhat yellowish, suggesting it wasn’t particularly fertile.
Sizing up the area, he measured distances with his feet and used the hoe to draw two shallow furrows, dividing the already small herb plot into three. After some thought, Chen Yu walked to the smallest section, crouched down, and gently touched the earth with his palm.
Deep within his consciousness, waves surged. With previous experience, he skillfully directed his spiritual power, transforming it into a continuous tide that crashed against the invisible net. The silver-white spiritual energy, bright as starlight, was firmly embedded, but under his persistent assault, he managed to pry away a single bead.
Chen Yu pressed his fingers into the soil, attempting to fuse the spiritual energy with the earth. As expected, the soil infused with spiritual energy showed no immediate change—it didn’t thicken, nor did it turn rich and black.
Unperturbed, he watched intently, sensing the variations of the spiritual energy within the soil. After a long while, that bead of light began to dissipate, transforming into countless scattered, barely visible specks that blossomed through the earth like fireworks.
Finally, Chen Yu witnessed the change he’d been waiting for, wonder deepening in his eyes.
As the spiritual energy fragmented, another scene unfolded before him, one he’d never seen. The silver-white particles divided endlessly, adhering to every granule of soil, every decaying leaf, twig, and stone, enveloping everything beneath the surface. The collapse continued; the light particles shrank, but their reach expanded, radiating from one point to another, spreading in all directions with each new target they enveloped.
In the end, when the spiritual energy had diminished to the point where even Chen Yu could barely sense it, everything stilled.
A network of countless silver-white nodes appeared before his eyes, spanning beneath the soil.
"It really can be diluted!"
Chen Yu tried digging the soil again and found that once the earth was removed from the ground, the diluted spiritual energy within would dissipate in half an hour—vanishing completely into the air, undetectable.
After pondering a moment, he stood and headed to the vegetable patch, pulling up two white stalks, then grabbing a handful of Jade Beetle Grass. He gently planted them in the herb field, only putting some in, while the rest went into ordinary soil untouched by spiritual energy. He made a point to space the transplanted plants to prevent overcrowding from rapid growth.
With both sets for comparison, he hoped to learn something.
Then he leaned against the wall and waited quietly.
Surprisingly, even after half an hour, the transplanted plants remained unchanged, showing no signs of the wild twitching and rapid growth that had occurred before.
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Especially those growing in soil infused with spiritual energy—they didn’t writhe or grow uncontrollably as before.
"It seems the results won’t show anytime soon."
Whether the diluted spiritual energy could still affect the target organisms as he imagined remained to be seen.
Chen Yu stopped waiting idly and returned to the temple for his usual midday rest.
Today he was reading "Guangyun Treatise: Five Elements Volume," a scripture of mixed, simple teachings, quite suitable for an amateur like himself.
Time drifted by, and soon it was Shen hour—about three in the afternoon.
“I wonder how those earthworms are doing.”
Curious, he took down the bamboo tube hanging on the pillar. Ever since he decided to make a proper fishing rod, the earthworms he’d dug up while weeding and channeling had been kept in the tube, seeing nothing but the air through its vents.
Opening the lid, he found the soil inside fine and clearly well-tunneled, and it seemed darker than it had been two days ago.
Indeed, earthworms enrich the soil.
The thought crossed his mind—should he release these worms into the herb garden? No, better to put them in the vegetable patch; the herb field still contained spiritual energy, and these creatures might cause trouble. If he woke up surrounded by a horde of earthworm kings...
The mere idea sent shivers down his spine.
Speaking of earthworm kings, his gaze drifted to another bamboo tube nearby. Upon opening it, the worm inside was still stiff and rigid, showing no signs of decay.
Does spiritual energy preserve freshness as well?
That would be wonderful. He mused, returning his attention to the present. He’d thought about using this dead earthworm king for fishing, to see if there were legendary dragons or water monsters lurking in the mountain pools, but with no rod ready and uncertain how long it would stay fresh, he’d have to find a way to deal with it, lest it turn into an earthworm zombie.
But really, is an earthworm infused with spiritual energy still an earthworm?
Would it actually attract fish? Or would fish avoid it...
Perhaps it was spring fatigue or summer languor, for as the willows along the mountain path began to bud, Chen Yu found his mind wandering more than ever.
His thoughts drifted like willow fluff, floating off unpredictably, impossible to reel back in.
Finally, he took the bamboo tube to the vegetable patch, turned it upside down, and tapped gently on the bottom.
Thud, thud, thud!
Soil tumbled out, along with earthworms dropping one by one, some tangled together, rolling across the ground.
It was clear these worms were much thinner than when caught. Chen was skilled at cooking and farming, but still a complete novice at raising creatures.
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Not even at the beginner’s gate.
He took a hoe and dug into the soil, covering the scattered worms to keep them from escaping one danger only to die under the sun.
After dealing with that, he suddenly recalled something—though he hadn’t placed any living creatures in the herb field, there were likely plenty of insects in the soil.
Fortunately, spiritual energy didn’t attract other living beings, so leaving it overnight should be safe.
"Let’s hope I don’t wake up surrounded by fist-sized bugs tomorrow."
As it turned out, reality was as uneventful as ever.
The next morning, not only were there no insects, but most of the transplanted plants in the herb field had died.
He guessed his technique was simply too poor, having damaged the roots badly. Overnight, half had wilted, and among the survivors, some leaves had yellowed. As for the Jade Beetle Grass, they all lay toppled, not a single one survived.
He focused on the innermost corner of the herb field, where he’d placed a bead of spiritual energy. Most of the plants there had also perished, leaving only one white stalk struggling on.
He crouched down, concentrating, and with his unusually strong mental power and natural affinity for spiritual energy, he could vaguely sense its movement in the soil.
The network he’d seen the day before was now a tattered mess; after a whole night, most of the spiritual energy had dissipated.
The lone surviving white root was unchanged in size and color.
Had he failed again?
Not at all.
The fragmented spiritual energy network was indeed on the verge of total collapse, but beneath layers of earth, he could clearly see node after node converging toward a single point.
That struggling white stalk was at the center.
Spiritual energy gathered at its root, forming a mass, cloudlike and misty, churning as if brewing something.
Chen Yu strained to see, and suddenly his consciousness surged like an ocean, his vision piercing through leaf and stem.
He saw it.
A wisp of milky-white vapor.
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