West of town, next door to the old stone house of the Spirit Hall.
Zhao Shi sat at his table, holding a coarse clay teacup without drinking.
He stared at Lu Qinghe’s page in the ledger, tracing a faint mark on it with his fingernail.
Something wasn’t right.
That kid was too composed, too quiet, and spoke far too smoothly.
What six-year-old child who awakened a useless martial soul and lived in dirt poverty wouldn’t be terrified upon seeing a deacon?
But that kid…
didn’t have a speck of fear in his eyes.
It wasn’t feigned composure.
He simply didn’t take Zhao Shi seriously at all.
Zhao Shi felt a surge of irritation mixed with vigilance.
He had stayed in Maple Leaf Town for eight years, crawling from rank twenty to rank twenty-three like a snail.
He knew his talent capped out here, so he remained pragmatic and friendly on the surface while maintaining a tight, careful grip on his local authority.
He kept close tabs on every minor tremor among the town’s spirit masters.
Lu Qinghe had been stuck for fifteen years, yet suddenly his spirit power stabilized, his family began cultivating Soul-Gathering Grass, and their meals seemed to have improved—subtle changes, but none escaped his notice.
Where did the money come from?
What avenue had opened up for them?
Zhao Shi had visited today intending to press them, hoping to intimidate them into revealing something substantial.
If there really was a cheap formula involved, he could slice off a share of the profit for himself.
He hadn’t expected to hit a soft brick wall.
And one thrown up by a child, no less.
Zhao Shi set down his teacup, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table.
He recalled what Lu Yuan had said about the “natural spirit power settling cycle.” He had indeed glimpsed that concept years ago in some tattered manual, though he had long since forgotten it.
Where had the kid read that?
A scrap of an old book?
Where would the Lu family get their hands on an ancient text?
The more doubts piled up, the more uneasy he felt.
He wasn’t afraid of what the Lu family could actually do, but rather hated this feeling of things slipping out of his control.
A family sentenced to a dead end had quietly begun to rise, and he, the local deacon, couldn’t figure out the mechanism behind it.
This wouldn’t do.
He needed to keep watching.
Perhaps he should ask around—who had the Lu family been seeing lately?
And what was the deal with that “Energy Soup”?
Zhao Shi narrowed his eyes, his habitual smile fading to reveal the shrewdness and coldness of a petty official beneath.
He picked up a brush and made a tiny mark next to Lu Qinghe’s name.
It looked like an accidental scratch, but only he understood its meaning.
He had to keep a close eye on them.
*** When Zhao Shi pushed open the gate and entered, Lu Qinghe was crouching under the eaves.
Two spirit master apprentices followed behind the deacon, the insignia of Maple Leaf Town embroidered on their sleeves.
“Brother Lu.” Zhao Shi wore a smile, though his eyes drifted toward the back courtyard.
“These seedlings are growing quite nicely.” Lu Qinghe’s heart sank.
He set down the iron scraper in his hand and stood up.
“Deacon Zhao, the kid was just planting things at random…” “At random?” Zhao Shi interrupted, drawing a scroll of yellowed parchment from his cloak and snapping it open.
“Spirit Hall Regulation Thirty-Seven, plain black ink on white paper—cultivating spirit power herbs requires prior registration.” His finger tapped toward the few rows of Soul-Gathering Grass and Starlight Vine.
“Do these two count?” Lin Xiu stepped out from the kitchen, her face turning pale.
“Deacon Zhao, the child didn’t know any better…” “The child didn’t know, and the adults didn’t either?” Zhao Shi glanced at her, his tone turning cold.
“Failing to register means they must be uprooted according to regulation, alongside a fine of five Gold Spirit Coins.” Five Gold Spirit Coins!
Lu Qinghe’s head buzzed.
He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.
“You’re picking on us!
Wang Mazi planted Heart-Clearing Grass, so why was he fine?” “Heart-Clearing Grass isn’t classified as a spirit power herb.” Zhao Shi smiled, though his eyes remained cold.
“Your two plants, however, happen to count.” He lowered his voice.
“I’m not unreasonable, mind you.
Hand over the formula for that ‘Energy Soup’ so the Spirit Hall can put it on file, and we can consider this matter settled.” The hidden dagger was finally revealed.
Lu Qinghe felt a chill run through his body.
The courtyard gate wasn’t fully closed, and several neighbors had gathered outside, peeking in curiously.
“That soup is just thrown together randomly…” Lu Qinghe’s throat felt dry.
“Thrown together?” Zhao Shi’s expression darkened, and he waved his hand behind him.
“Then we handle this by the book.
Dig them up!” The two apprentices stepped forward at his command.
Lin Xiu cried out and tried to block them, but she was gently pushed aside.
Lu Qinghe’s eyes flushed red as he blocked the plant beds, his spirit power involuntarily circulating and kicking up a light breeze.
Zhao Shi’s gaze turned sharp.
“Looking for a fight?” The atmosphere grew taut.
A wooden door creaked open inside the house.
Lu Yuan walked out.
He held a worn, old book with frayed edges, his steps steady.
For a six-year-old child, his eyes were unnaturally calm.
He pulled lightly at his father’s hem.
“Deacon Zhao,” Lu Yuan looked up, his voice clear and bright.
“You say Soul-Gathering Grass and Starlight Vine are spirit power herbs, violating regulations, correct?” Zhao Shi narrowed his eyes.
“That’s right.” “Then I’d like to ask.” Lu Yuan flipped open the book and pointed at a line of small print.
“What is the criteria?
Is it determined by the spirit power contained within the plant itself, or by its recognized medicinal effect?” Zhao Shi paused.
“Naturally, it’s the medicinal effect.” “Good.” Lu Yuan turned the book toward him.
“*Illustrated Guide to Common Continental Herbs*, compiled by Spirit Hall Headquarters.
Page 372, regarding Soul-Gathering Grass—’Its spirit power residue cannot be directly absorbed or utilized by spirit masters; thus, it is not listed in the official registry of spirit power herbs.'” He paused, flipping forward a few pages.
“Starlight Vine—’Spirit power activity is weak and unstable; listed only as an observational supplementary material, not an official spirit power herb.
Cultivation does not require special registration.'” The courtyard fell dead silent for a moment.
The neighbors outside began muttering among themselves.
Zhao Shi’s face changed.
He stared at the battered book, then at Lu Yuan’s face.
“This book…
is old,” he said, his voice dry.
“Headquarters may have revised the regulations since then…” “That’s possible.” Lu Yuan nodded politely.
“Do you have the latest revised clause that explicitly places them in the official registry?
If you do, produce it, and we will accept the fine.” Zhao Shi choked on his words.
He didn’t have a damn clause.
Without the actual text, it meant his attempt at intimidation had completely blown up in his face today.
His cheeks burned hot.
He glared at Lu Yuan, his gaze dark enough to drip water.
“Good, good.” Zhao Shi squeezed out the words through gritted teeth, forcing a stiff smile onto his face.
“It seems I misremembered.
Your herb garden does not require registration.” He admitted defeat.
Lu Yuan bowed slightly.
“Thank you for your clear judgment, Deacon Zhao.” Zhao Shi gave him a sharp glare, turned on his heel, and left.
The two apprentices followed behind him like beaten dogs.
The courtyard gate slammed shut with a heavy clatter.
Lu Qinghe’s legs gave out, and Lin Xiu hurriedly supported him.
Both of them stared at their son, then at the old book, their minds in complete disarray.
Lu Yuan stood in place, holding the book.
They had dodged a bullet.
But he had seen the look in Zhao Shi’s eyes.
It wasn’t surrender—it was malice.
The trouble was only just beginning.
Lu Yuan tapped his index finger gently against the spine of the book.
*** Lu Yuan stood in place holding the book for about three breaths.
Then he turned and walked back inside the house.
Lu Qinghe leaned against the doorframe, while Lin Xiu still held his arm tightly.
Neither of them spoke, simply watching their son place the book back onto the table and return to them.
“It’s fine now,” Lu Yuan said.
His voice was completely calm.
Lin Xiu’s eyes turned red.
She let go of her husband, knelt down, and pulled her son into a tight hug.
“Xiaoyuan…
you scared me to death.” Her voice trembled.
“How did you dare…
that was someone from the Spirit Hall…” Lu Yuan allowed her to hold him, remaining motionless.
Lu Qinghe took a deep breath, walked to the courtyard gate, and peeked through the crack.
The alley was empty; the neighbors who had gathered to watch the scene had dispersed, and Zhao Shi’s group was nowhere to be seen.
He turned back, leaning against the wooden gate, and slowly slid down to sit on the ground.
“He’s gone,” Lu Qinghe said, his voice raspy.
“He really left.” Lin Xiu released her son, wiped her eyes, and went over to pull her husband up.
“Get up, the ground is cold.” Lu Qinghe didn’t move.
He stared at his son with a complex expression.
“Where did you learn all that?
That book…
that guide, I’ve never even seen it before.” “I picked it up at a second-hand stall,” Lu Yuan said.
“It cost two Copper Soul Coins.” This was the truth.
That copy of *Illustrated Guide to Common Continental Herbs* had indeed been scavenged from a second-hand book stall west of town the previous month.
The pages were yellowed and the corners frayed, but the content was intact.
The stall owner didn’t know its value and sold it off as scrap paper.
Lu Qinghe opened his mouth, but refrained from asking further.
He pushed off his knees to stand, his legs still a bit soft.
“So today’s matter…
has passed?” “For now,” Lu Yuan said.
Lin Xiu grew anxious.
“What do you mean ‘for now’?
Didn’t he admit he was wrong?” “Mother.” Lu Yuan looked at her.
“He is a deacon of the Spirit Hall, overseeing all spirit master registrations and audits in town.
Today, in front of a crowd of people, he was left speechless by a six-year-old child quoting regulatory text.
Do you think he will just let it go?” Lin Xiu froze.
Lu Qinghe’s face darkened.
“Are you saying…
he’ll look for trouble again?” “Without a doubt.” Lu Yuan walked over to the window, peering outside through a gap.
The alley was desolate, the afternoon sunlight casting oblique rays, leaving not even a shadow on the ground.
“And next time, he won’t use an overt excuse like ‘illegal cultivation.'”