Shen Yue's gasp had echoed through the room like a struck bell, the words hanging in the air long after they left her lips.
"I… I can feel it. My Qi—it's flowing."
She stared down at her hands, a mix of awe and disbelief playing across her features. It was the look of someone who had spent their whole life in shadow and was now, for the first time, seeing dawn.
Lu Chenyuan's heart lifted. In her eyes, he saw something that had been missing for a long time—a flicker of self-worth. He smiled gently, warmth infusing his voice.
"That feeling, Shen Yue… it's the core of your Wood Spirit. Nurture it. That is not a curse—it's a gift. Yours. And it will be the strength of our clan."
From that moment on, everything changed.
Each morning, Shen Yue rose earlier than before. Where once there had been hesitation, even fear, now there was focus. Her progress was slow—painstaking at times—but it was progress nonetheless. She practiced visualizing the erratic strands of her Wood Qi, coaxing them into gentle alignment, learning to feel their subtle resistance and stubborn flows. Lu Chenyuan guided her with the patience of someone who understood just how fragile hope could be, how easily it could fracture if pushed too hard.
Some days, a single thread of Qi would flow a little farther than the last. Other days, the snags returned, stubborn as ever. But Shen Yue didn't retreat. She persisted, and Lu Chenyuan praised every inch of growth.
And quietly, the world around her responded.
The brittle old herb by their windowsill—once thought beyond saving—had become her silent partner in cultivation. With each gentle touch, each whispered encouragement and focused channeling of her still-fledgling Qi, it began to heal. New shoots emerged. The brown leaves softened, darkened into healthier hues. A miracle, perhaps small by worldly standards, but no less real.
As Shen Yue grew inwardly, the outside world, too, was reaching a turning point.
In the spirit field, the Iron Vigor Millet swayed under the weight of its jade-green grain. The scent of ripening grain hung heavy in the morning air—earthy, sweet, and full of promise.
"It's time," Uncle Liu announced one morning, eyes bright beneath weathered brows. "If we don't harvest now, the birds—or worse—will beat us to it."
Harvest in a cultivation clan wasn't a mere chore. It was sacred, a ritual of gratitude. Together, the three of them worked in rhythm: Lu Chenyuan wielded the sickle, carving clean arcs through thick stalks; Uncle Liu moved with surprising speed, gathering the bundles; and Shen Yue, hands now glowing faintly with a soft emerald shimmer, handled the grain heads with surprising grace. Somehow, the ones she touched seemed fuller, more vibrant.
From sunrise to sunset they worked for two full days. Their simple clothes clung with sweat, their arms ached, but no one complained. This was not labor—it was fulfillment. The swish of the sickle, the rustle of millet, the steady breath of effort—it became a quiet symphony.
By the end, a mound of Iron Vigor Millet sat before them—more than the clan had seen in decades.
Lu Chenyuan wiped his brow, his smile weary but proud. "We did it."
Shen Yue stared at the grains as though unsure they were real, her cheeks flushed, lips parted in silent wonder.
Uncle Liu looked near tears. "Enough to feed us through the winter," he said hoarsely. "And even a little to trade. The ancestors truly watch over us."
The next few days were spent drying and threshing. The final yield: nearly eighty catties of high-quality Grade One spiritual grain. A fortune, for them. Meals became richer, hearts lighter. Even the system responded—Lu Chenyuan felt the Clan Prosperity Meter tick upward, from 5 to 6.
With food secured and Shen Yue's Green Dew Grass still maturing, Lu Chenyuan's mind turned again to the Qi Nourishing Pill—and the threat of the Stone Tiger Li Clan. Li Hu's advancement to the Fifth Layer of Qi Refinement loomed like a storm on the horizon.
"Uncle Liu," he said one morning, "I need to return to Serpent's End Market. We have some surplus grain and pelts. With those and a few spirit stones, I might be able to buy one of the other key ingredients—Three-Leaf Ginseng or Earth Spirit Root."
Uncle Liu nodded. "Good. With our own Green Dew Grass, we'd only be missing one herb for a full dose."
Lu Chenyuan left the next day, alone. Uncle Liu would guard the courtyard, and Shen Yue, though improving, wasn't yet ready for the market's harsh reality.
Serpent's End was as he remembered: noisy, grimy, and full of hidden dangers. He moved carefully, navigating past shouting vendors and squabbling cultivators until he reached a modest but reputable herb shop.
The shopkeeper, a portly man named Bao, greeted him with a smile just a little too wide. "Patriarch Lu! Back again so soon? Looking for something rare, I take it?"
"I need Three-Leaf Ginseng or Earth Spirit Root. Grade Two or better."
Bao's eyes gleamed. "You don't ask for easy things, do you? I've got both—Grade Two Lower quality. Fresh Earth Spirit Root, still clinging with dirt. And a dried Three-Leaf Ginseng, nicely preserved. Twelve and fourteen spirit stones, respectively."
The prices were steep. Lu Chenyuan frowned but hid it. After some bartering—dropping hints of improved clan fortunes—he walked away with the Earth Spirit Root for ten stones and two catties of grain. A fair deal. The tuber throbbed faintly in his palm, radiating earthy Qi.
As he turned to leave, voices caught his attention.
"…Li Hu's almost there. Fifth Layer, maybe closer. I saw him training—snapped a dummy in half."
"…heard he's paying big for spirit beast cores. He's getting ready."
Lu Chenyuan's stomach tightened. The clock was ticking faster than he'd hoped.
He sold the remaining goods for a few coins and one more spirit stone, bringing their total to sixty-eight. Every bit mattered.
Back at the courtyard, he laid the Earth Spirit Root on the table, showing it to Shen Yue and Uncle Liu.
"With this and the Green Dew Grass," he said, "I can attempt a stronger version of the pill. We're still missing the final herb, but this brings us closer."
Later, as Shen Yue tended the Green Dew Grass, Lu Chenyuan watched her from a distance. Her hands glowed with a soft, steady green light now, her movements confident, serene.
"Shen Yue," he called softly. She turned. He nodded toward the old potted herb. "Try focusing on that one again. Like you did with the grass. Consciously this time."
A flicker of hesitation crossed her face—but only for a second. She approached, breathed deeply, and reached out. Lu Chenyuan watched as emerald Qi gathered in her palm, then streamed into the plant. The leaves brightened, the color deepened. Life surged into it.
[System Notification: Wife Shen Yue has successfully demonstrated conscious control and external projection of innate Wood Spirit Qi. Spiritual Root (Variant - Wood) awakening progress: 5%. Clan Vitality +1. Host receives minor insight into Wood Element cultivation.]
Warmth flooded Lu Chenyuan's mind. A new layer of understanding settled into his perception of the Azurewood Art. The Clan Prosperity Meter ticked again, from 6 to 7.
"You did it," he said quietly, smiling. "That was remarkable."
Shen Yue blinked—and then, for the first time, she truly smiled. Not the faint, uncertain one of politeness, but something real. Radiant.
The 'cursed' girl was blooming.
Their first harvest had been reaped. A vital herb had been secured. Shen Yue's path of cultivation was no longer just possible—it was underway.
But in the distance, a shadow stirred.
Li Hu was growing stronger.
And the next time Lu Chenyuan stepped into his alchemy room, he would be gambling not just with herbs and flame—but with the fate of the Azurewood Lin Clan itself.