Chapter 11: Strange Behavior

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At the foot of Emerald Spirit Peak, there stood an elegant little courtyard with whitewashed walls and blue-tiled eaves.

Zhao Shi clutched a jade slip, his gaze dark and brooding as he scanned its surface again and again.

“Cultivation method... circulation of spiritual energy...” In the flickering candlelight, the veins at his temple stood out faintly. Suddenly, he jerked his head up, his eyes flashing coldly. “Wang Gang, are you certain what you said is true?”

Across from him, seated on a sandalwood chair, the burly man called Wang Gang gulped down tea in great swallows.

He was in his early thirties, his muscular frame stretching his gray robe taut. He was the very same disciple who, earlier that day by the spiritual fields, had been the first to leave in anger.

“It’s absolutely true!” Wang Gang slammed down his teacup, waving his broad palm like a fan, his voice booming like a bell. “When that little girl was transplanting seedlings, the spiritual energy in the field seemed to come alive... But Brother Zhao, can you guess what happened next?”

At this, the flesh on his face quivered with indignation. “She actually wanted to charge us spirit stones—one low-grade spirit stone just to watch for an hour!”

As Zhao Shi listened, his fingertip tapped lightly on the table, the ripples in his teacup reflecting his unsettled expression.

“If you ask me...” Wang Gang suddenly pounded the table, causing tea to spill, and snorted with anger. “That so-called family secret method of hers is nothing but a trick! With her meager cultivation, what real skill could she possibly have?”

Zhao Shi narrowed his eyes, rubbing the edge of the jade slip with his thumb. As he considered his dealings with the Shen family, a flicker of murderous intent flashed almost imperceptibly in his eyes. “So, Shen Qinghe... I almost let myself be deceived by you...”

...

At dawn, Shen Qinghe, her face pale, lifted a new stalk of Violet Spirit Ginseng, her fingertips trembling.

“The sixth one...” She managed a weak smile and gently set the fresh ginseng beside her.

Five other Violet Spirit Ginsengs, each emanating a faint spiritual glow, were already lined up neatly at her side.

After a long night of hard work, more than twenty low-grade spirit stones spent, and over sixty or seventy fusion attempts, her success rate had improved compared to last time. However, the excessive drain on her spiritual power left her vision swirling with darkness.

“It seems that the mutated branches after fusing Violet Cloud Ginseng and Spirit Severing Grass...” she murmured, her voice barely audible, “only result in Violet Severed Ginseng and Violet Spirit Ginseng.”

Her gaze drifted to a small pile of dark purple Violet Severed Ginseng in the corner.

Though these roots weren’t lethal, their property of severing spiritual energy and life force left her at a loss as to how to deal with them.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

“Sister, are you awake?” Liu Qingqing’s voice came through the door, brimming with the vitality of early morning.

Hearing her call, Shen Qinghe drew a deep breath and forced her shaky legs to stand. She walked slowly to the door and pulled it open.

“Sister!” Liu Qingqing exclaimed as soon as she saw her. “What happened to you?”

Liu Qingqing’s eyes widened as she hurried to steady Shen Qinghe, who was swaying precariously. Seeing her deathly pale face, Liu Qingqing was filled with worry.

“It’s nothing...” Shen Qinghe forced a faint wave of her hand, her voice drifting. “It’s just... I overused my spiritual power. My body can’t quite bear it.”

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She struggled to muster a smile to reassure Liu Qingqing.

“Is it really just that?” Liu Qingqing tilted her head, suspicion filling her almond-shaped eyes, her lips pouting slightly.

Steeling herself, Shen Qinghe straightened, forcing a look of determination onto her pallid face. “Of course it’s true!”

She deliberately hardened her tone, but the effort made her cough lightly twice.

Seeing this, Liu Qingqing quickly supported her wavering figure. “Alright, alright, I believe you.”

She gently helped Shen Qinghe back to the bed, her movements soft and tender. “Lie down, sister. I’ll make you some spiritual rice porridge to help you recover.”

“Qingqing!” Shen Qinghe suddenly grabbed her sleeve, tears shimmering in her bright eyes. “Having you here... is such a blessing.”

“Oh!” Liu Qingqing’s face turned crimson in an instant, and she jumped back like a startled rabbit.

She twisted the hem of her robe, completely flustered, even the tips of her ears tinged with pink. “S-sister, don’t say that... I-I’ll go make the porridge now!”

With that, she rushed out, nearly stumbling over the threshold in her haste as she fled the room.

Shen Qinghe stared after Liu Qingqing’s retreating figure, suddenly freezing.

She couldn’t help but recall something she’d once heard: when people are ill or weak, they often do strange things.

“Could it be that I just...” Her eyes widened in alarm, and she yanked the blanket over her head, burying herself completely. Muffled groans of embarrassment came from under the covers. “Heavens, what was I thinking...!”

She couldn’t help but feel ashamed of her earlier behavior.

Perhaps because she was lying down, a wave of exhaustion rolled over her like a tide. Curled beneath the blankets, she soon drifted into sleep.

Outside the window, the morning sun was just right—a golden ray crept up the edge of her bed, bathing her pale cheeks in a gentle warmth.

“Sister, sister...”

She didn’t know how much time had passed before Liu Qingqing’s gentle voice roused her from sleep.

Shen Qinghe slowly opened her eyes, her long lashes casting delicate shadows across her face.

She instinctively squinted, her voice husky with sleep. “Qingqing, how long did I rest?”

“Only about an hour,” Liu Qingqing replied, holding a steaming bowl of porridge with a cheerful smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“An hour?!” Shen Qinghe shot upright, the covers sliding to the floor.

Only then did she realize she’d recovered most of her strength, with a good portion of her spiritual power restored as well.

But then, a dreadful thought flashed through her mind. Having just collected viewing fees from her fellow disciples the day before, to be so late now...

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“They’re not going to demand their money back, are they?” The thought brought her fully awake, and she hastily began straightening her clothes.

If those who paid their spirit stones grew impatient, who knew what trouble might arise.

She hurriedly took the bowl of porridge from Liu Qingqing. The blue porcelain bowl was filled with steaming spiritual rice porridge, its delicate fragrance wafting up, the curling mist blurring her vision.

“Slow down, sister...” Liu Qingqing began to speak with concern, but before she could finish, Shen Qinghe had already tipped her slender neck back and finished the porridge in one gulp.

“Thank you, Qingqing!” She thrust the empty bowl back into Liu Qingqing’s hands and dashed for the door.

Her bare feet touched the dew-soaked flagstones, the chill making her shiver from head to toe—only then did she realize she’d forgotten her shoes and socks.

Doubling back in a hurry, she slipped them on, then rushed out again in a whirlwind.

“What’s gotten into sister?” Liu Qingqing watched her flustered retreat, brows furrowed, fingers idly tracing the rim of the bowl, her eyes full of confusion.

When Shen Qinghe finally arrived at the spiritual fields, panting for breath, she could see from afar that a crowd had gathered on the ridges.

Her heart sank. “Oh no, could it be...”

But as she drew closer and took in the scene, she froze in astonishment.

The same disciples from yesterday were now gathered around the edge of the field in all sorts of strange postures.

Some crouched so low their eyes nearly touched the seedlings. Others knelt on the ridges, tracing mysterious patterns through the air with their fingers.

Most alarming of all, many had bloodshot eyes and crazed expressions.

“Marvelous! Marvelous!” a hoarse voice suddenly cried out. The elderly disciple from the day before clapped his hands and laughed, his gray beard trembling with his enthusiasm, his clouded eyes shining with a frightening brilliance—almost as if he were possessed.

Seeing all this, Shen Qinghe stood rooted to the spot, her lips parted in shock.

Could it be that these people really kept watch here all night?

While she was still pondering, the elderly disciple turned abruptly, his bloodshot gaze locking onto her.

He strode over in three quick steps, his withered fingers trembling as he fished out three low-grade spirit stones. “Sister Shen!” he rasped, his voice fervent with excitement, “This cultivation method is truly exquisite! I am willing to pay three more low-grade spirit stones—please, instruct me personally!”

“This...” Shen Qinghe hesitated, unsure whether to accept the stones.

“Wait!” At that moment, a shrill female voice cut through the morning mist like a blade.