The footprints on the riverbank were chaotic, fading as soon as the wind blew.
Lu Yuan squatted by the water, his fingers fumbling through the gravel.
His spirit power condensed into thin threads, probing inward and stopping only when they met a warm, smooth resistance.
He dug it out.
It was the size of a palm, with a grayish-blue base covered in faint green veins.
The first piece.
In the distance, a few children peeked from behind the bushes and whispered to one another.
He ignored them and kept digging.
By the time the sun began to sink in the west, he had gathered three pieces.
Washing them in the river water, the veins seemed to come alive under the shimmering light.
Enough.
He stood up and headed back.
He paused briefly when he passed the sandy patch of land.
Qian Xiaohao’s stumbling footprints were still visible on the ground.
“He won?” “Blue Silver Grass can actually be used like that?” The whispers still seemed to drift in the air.
He withdrew his gaze.
Reputation was something the people of Maple Leaf Town could gossip about for half a month.
The trouble was, it wasn’t just the idle onlookers who were gossiping.
* * * Before dinner, Lu Qinghe returned, his face dark.
Lin Xiu paused as she carried the porridge.
“What’s wrong?” “I ran into Old Chen.” Lu Qinghe sat down, lowering his voice.
“He was asking about Xiao Yuan.” “Asking what?” “Asking what he usually does, what books he reads, and if anyone taught him.” Lu Qinghe picked up his bowl but didn’t drink.
“He was hinting at whether our family is hiding some cultivation method.” Lu Yuan didn’t stop wiping the stones.
“What did you say?” “What else could I say?” Lu Qinghe muttered.
“That the kid likes to mess around, found an old book and scribbled in it, and just got lucky.” Lin Xiu breathed a sigh of relief.
“Did Old Chen believe it?” “On the surface.” Lu Qinghe took a mouthful of porridge.
“But the look in his eyes when he left wasn’t right.
Even the grain shop owner came over to ask, saying he heard our Xiao Yuan is impressive.” The room fell silent.
The firewood in the hearth popped.
Lu Yuan lined up the three stones on the table.
Vein to vein, they fit together seamlessly.
A faint green light flowed subtly along the seams.
“Dad,” he spoke up, “any word from Zhao Shi today?” Lu Qinghe shook his head.
“Didn’t see him.
Around noon, that tall, thin guy who works under him paced around the mouth of the alley a couple of times.” Expected.
Lu Yuan tapped the edge of a stone.
His rhythm was steady.
Once a reputation spread, attention would rise.
And once attention rose, secrets could no longer be kept.
Zhao Shi pointing out the hardening of the Blue Silver Grass yesterday and asking about what was under the roof tiles in the backyard was definitely not casual.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the Lu family to show a weakness, or waiting for the right moment to rip the lid off entirely.
“Xiao Yuan,” Lin Xiu suddenly said, her voice trembling.
“How about…
we stop selling that Energy Soup?
I’ll go turn down Shopkeeper Liu tomorrow.” Lu Yuan looked up.
His mother’s eyes were slightly red, her fingers twisting the edge of her apron.
She was truly frightened.
The incident by the river, the rumors, Zhao Shi’s lingering shadow—all of it was like a net slowly closing in.
“Mom,” Lu Yuan said softly, “if we don’t sell the soup, what will we eat?” Lin Xiu opened her mouth but didn’t make a sound.
“We still have to sell it,” Lu Qinghe interjected, his tone stiff.
“But we can’t increase the quantity.
If Shopkeeper Liu asks again, just tell him we only have that much herb, so we can’t make more.” He looked at his son.
“Right?” Lu Yuan nodded.
“Yes.
Starting tomorrow, we’ll deliver one less bowl each day.” “Deliver less?” “Yes,” Lu Yuan said.
“We’ll say the herbs are hard to find and we can’t harvest enough.
Shopkeeper Liu is shrewd.
If he sees we are intentionally limiting the supply, he will believe even more that the herbs are rare.
If we readily increase the quantity, he’ll grow suspicious instead.” Lu Qinghe thought about it.
“Alright.” Lin Xiu looked at her husband and then at her son, finally lowering her head to scoop the porridge in silence.
Dinner was eaten in silence.
The porridge was slightly thicker, and there was a bit more oil in the pickles, but no one had an appetite.
The pressure in the air rose like a tide, making their chests feel tight.
Lu Yuan finished his last bite and set down his chopsticks.
He looked at his father.
Lu Qinghe’s brow was furrowed, chewing a single mouthful of porridge for a long time.
The slight joy of breaking through in spirit power had long been washed away by this storm.
Now, only worry remained, along with something deeper—an almost instinctive fear of the unknown.
Then he looked at his mother.
Lin Xiu kept her head down, taking tiny, slow sips of her porridge, as if doing so could stretch out time until the trouble vanished on its own.
Lu Yuan withdrew his gaze and looked out the window.
The sky was completely dark.
The stars hadn’t appeared yet, leaving the sky a heavy, gloomy ink-blue.
In the distance, a single light shone from the Spirit Hall, lonely like the eye of a beast lurking in the night.
He suddenly spoke.
His voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet room, it was as clear as a stone dropped into a deep pool.
“Dad, Mom.” Both of them looked up at the same time.
Lu Yuan paused, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of the table.
The rough wood grain scraped against his fingertips.
“I want to…” He took a breath.
“Go see the Spirit Academy outside the town.” A dead silence fell over the room.
Lu Qinghe’s chopsticks clattered onto the table.
Lin Xiu’s head snapped up, her eyes wide, her lips trembling for a long time without making a sound.
“You…
what did you say?” Lu Qinghe’s throat felt dry.
“I want to go to a Spirit Academy,” Lu Yuan repeated, his tone as flat as if he were discussing an ordinary chore.
“Maple Leaf Town is too small.
The things I can learn and the resources I can find have reached their limit here.” Lin Xiu finally found her voice, her tone sharp and distorted.
“No!
You’re only six years old!
Outside the town…
what kind of place is that?
You don’t know anyone or anything.
How will you survive on your own?” “The academy provides room and board under its rules,” Lu Yuan said.
“I’m not going right now.
I’ll wait until next spring when they recruit new students.” “That won’t do either!” Lin Xiu stood up, her eyes instantly turning red.
“Xiao Yuan, do you know how chaotic it is out there?
At least in town your parents can look after you.
Who will protect you once you leave?
Those Spirit Academies…
I’ve heard fighting and violence are common there.
With your Blue Silver Grass and only half a rank of innate spirit power, won’t you be bullied to death if you go?” She spoke in a rush, her tears spilling over.
Lu Qinghe didn’t say anything.
He stared at his son, his gaze a tangled mess of emotions: shock, confusion, worry, and a very faint, unrecognized hesitation.
“Xiao Yuan,” he spoke, his voice hoarse.
“Why do you suddenly want to leave?” Lu Yuan fell silent for a few breaths.
Why?
Because the Soul-Gathering Grass grew too slowly; because the Green-veined Stones had to be turned over one by one by the river; because Zhao Shi stuck to his shadow; because even a character like Qian Xiaohao could flaunt his power just because of his Rank 4 spirit power.
And even more so, because the things in his head—spirit power models, spirit structure hypotheses, energy conversion formulas—had absolutely no point of reference, verification, or dialogue in this small town.
He was like a man guarding a treasure vault while trapped in a drafty, ruined shack.
No matter how many treasures were in the vault, if they couldn’t be brought out and used, they were ultimately dead objects.
“Dad,” he said slowly, “you know my spirit is Blue Silver Grass.” Lu Qinghe nodded.
“Innate spirit power of half a rank.” Lu Qinghe nodded again.
“In Maple Leaf Town, in everyone’s eyes, I’m useless,” Lu Yuan said without emotion.
“Even though I beat Qian Xiaohao, they only think I used a trick and that Qian Xiaohao was too incompetent.
No one truly believes Blue Silver Grass can amount to anything.” He paused.
“But I don’t believe that.” The words were spoken softly, but they landed with a heavy thud.
Lin Xiu’s crying stopped.
She looked at her son, at that face which still held a child’s innocence but eyes as deep and calm as a dark pool, and suddenly felt a sense of estrangement.
“I have things I want to figure out,” Lu Yuan continued.
“About spirit power, about spirits, about why some people are born with full spirit power while others only have half a rank.
These questions have no answers in Maple Leaf Town.” He looked up at his parents.
“I have to go out.
To a bigger place, to read more books, to meet more people.
Even if it’s just to see what the current Spirit Academies actually teach and how they teach it, it’s still better than guessing blindly here.” The room fell silent again.
The fire in the hearth was almost out, the dying embers glowing with a faint, flickering red light.
Lu Qinghe stared at that speck of light for a long time.
Just as Lin Xiu couldn’t help but try to persuade him again, he finally let out a long breath.
“The academy…
costs money, right?” he asked, his voice weary.
“Yes,” Lu Yuan nodded.
“The nearest Junior Spirit Academy is in Qinglin City, about a hundred miles away.
A year’s tuition is about fifty Gold Spirit Coins.” Lin Xiu gasped.
Fifty Gold Spirit Coins.
If the Lu family pooled all their current savings, they probably couldn’t even scrape together five.
“However,” Lu Yuan changed the subject, “the academy has tuition waiver rules.
If one’s spirit is unique, or if one’s theoretical exam scores are exceptionally high, they can get a partial or even full waiver.” Lu Qinghe’s eyes lit up slightly but quickly dimmed.
“Your spirit…” “Blue Silver Grass isn’t unique,” Lu Yuan cut in quickly.
“But I can try the theoretical exam.” He spoke calmly, as if he were seventy to eighty percent confident.
Lu Qinghe fell silent.
He looked down at his calloused hands.
These hands had tilled the land, carried cargo, forged iron, and held a spirit shaped like an iron hoe.
For fifteen years, his spirit power had been stuck at Rank 19, like a hurdle he could never cross.
He once thought his life would just be like this.
Raising his son, watching him marry and have children, and living a peaceful, ordinary life would be the best ending.
But now his son said he wanted to leave.
He wanted to see the world outside the town, to understand questions his father had never even heard of.
Lu Qinghe’s mind was in turmoil.
Was he afraid?
Yes.
His son was only six years old; if he went out alone and something happened, Lu Qinghe would never forgive himself.
But another voice asked: Should he just let his son stay in Maple Leaf Town and repeat his own path?
To awaken a trash spirit, be mocked by others, struggle for half his life just to put food on the table, and finally accept his fate?
He remembered the feeling when his spirit power broke through the bottleneck that early morning.
The moment that warm current surged through his entire body, he had almost cried.
Fifteen years.
A full fifteen years.
What if…
what if the path his son took was truly different?
“Dad,” Lu Yuan’s voice pulled him back to reality.
“I’m not leaving right now.
There’s still nearly half a year.
During this half a year, I will find a way to save money and prepare for the academy’s exam.
I’ll arrange everything at home as best as I can.” Lu Qinghe looked up at his son.
In the dim light, the child’s face was sharply outlined in the shadows.
Those eyes were too calm—not like a child’s at all, but like an old man who had lived for decades.
He suddenly remembered Zhao Shi’s words by the river that day.
“The night your father broke through, what exactly was buried under the roof tiles in the backyard?” Secrets.
His son had secrets.
As his father, he had felt it long ago.
But so what?
This was his son.
A son who had become different starting from the day he awakened his spirit at six years old.
He didn’t understand those complex theories, nor did he understand what his son actually wanted to do, but he knew one thing— This child had no intention of accepting his fate.
“Alright.” Lu Qinghe uttered just one word.
Lin Xiu abruptly turned to look at him, her tears welling up again.
“Husband!
You…” “Let the boy go,” Lu Qinghe interrupted, his voice deep but steady.
“Staying in the town won’t lead to much of a future.
If he goes out, maybe…
he can really carve out a path.” After speaking, he stood up and walked over to his son.
He pressed his rough hand heavily on Lu Yuan’s shoulder.
“Half a year,” Lu Qinghe said, staring into his son’s eyes.
“In these six months, your mother and I will help you save money.
If it’s not enough, I will go borrow some.
But there is one condition—” He paused.
“Protect yourself out there.
If it really doesn’t work out, just come back.
No matter how hard things get at home, there will always be a bowl of rice for you.” The hand on Lu Yuan’s shoulder trembled slightly.
He looked up at his father.
This man, whose back had been bent by life, now stood perfectly straight, a light in his eyes that Lu Yuan had never seen before.
“Yes,” Lu Yuan nodded.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Lin Xiu covered her mouth, her quiet sobs escaping through the gaps of her fingers.
She knew that once her husband made a decision, he wouldn’t change his mind.
She walked over, squatted down beside her son, and reached out a trembling hand to touch his face.
“Xiao Yuan…” she choked out.
“Mom…
Mom will make you a new set of clothes.
Wear something decent when you go out.” Lu Yuan’s throat felt a bit tight.
He took his mother’s hands; they were cold and rough, yet warm.
“Thank you, Mom.” Outside the window, the night was as thick as unresolvable ink.
The light from the Spirit Hall was still on, looking from afar like a beacon suspended in the darkness.
Lu Yuan withdrew his gaze and looked at the three Green-veined Stones on the table.
The stones lay there quietly, the faint light in their veins faded, returning them to their ordinary appearance.
Soon.
He murmured to himself.
Once the formation was set up and the Soul-Gathering Grass grew, he would have chips in hand to make his departure secure.
In this half a year, not a single day could be wasted.