Wei woke early the next morning. The faint light of dawn slipped through the shutters, casting pale streaks across the room. He rose with a clarity of mind he hadn't felt in days. After washing and bathing, he dressed himself neatly, making sure he looked presentable.
When he checked the mirror, he paused. Golden strands of hair spilled messily around his head, yet carried a certain natural grace. His green eyes shone with a new sparkle—something not there before, as if some hidden weight had been lifted. His features, sharp and angular, gave him a proud and almost severe air. He was not the most handsome of men, perhaps, but undeniably carried a youthful charm and presence that could not be ignored.
With a steadying breath, Wei left his room. His steps were light, carrying a faint spring as though he was walking toward something certain.
Crossing the hallway, he was unexpectedly met by Madam Yue's granddaughter.
"You're awake!" she exclaimed, her voice bright with relief. "I was so worried when you didn't come down for two whole days. Grandma said to leave you be—that you'd come out on your own when you were ready. How do you feel? Do you need anything? I'll prepare a meal for you in half an hour. Oh! My name is Chu Lin. Chu Yue is my grandmother."
Wei blinked, slightly taken aback by the girl's chattiness. Her words tumbled out in quick succession, almost without pause. Still, he couldn't help but think it fit her. Raised in such a safe and sheltered home, she carried no shadows of fear or hardship. Her cheerful, bubbly nature was a reflection of Madam Yue's ability to safeguard her family without fail.
"Thank you," Wei said, offering a polite smile. "A meal right now would be most welcome, though I need nothing else. Has Madam Yue risen yet, or should I visit her later?"
Though Wei could go without food for weeks, he was not without want. His body craved nourishment, and the thought of a warm meal stirred his appetite.
Chu Lin nodded quickly. "Grandmas always up early. She should be in the garden, tending her herbs. She told me that whenever you woke, you could go straight to her. Just take this hallway to the end. The last door straight ahead opens into the garden. I'll bring your food there once it's ready."
With a quick smile and a polite bow, she excused herself. As she walked off toward the kitchen, her cheerful expression softened into something more serious. She recalled her grandmother's words clearly: *Do your utmost to assist this young man. Though she did not yet understand why, she would never disobey.
Wei turned toward the direction she indicated. The hallway was quiet, the faint creak of the floorboards the only sound accompanying his steps. When he reached the door, he opened it carefully and stepped out.
The sight that greeted him was unexpectedly serene.
The garden stretched wide, though modest in size. Beds of herbs grew neatly in rows, their colors vivid and lively. Birds perched on the low fence at the far end, their faint chirping adding to the tranquil atmosphere. Though not as breathtaking as his grandfather's spiritual garden, this place carried a beauty born of care and devotion.
A short distance away, Wei spotted Madam Yue. She knelt beside a peculiar rainbow-colored plant, gently pouring shimmering moonlit water onto its roots. Every movement of her hand reflected both habit and reverence.
Wei didn't interrupt. Instead, he walked quietly to a small table set on the unplanted side of the garden and sat down. The serenity of the place pressed softly against his mind, easing his thoughts. Even if the energy here wasn't particularly abundant, the environment itself nurtured focus. Cultivation done here would surely flourish.
After some time, Madam Yue straightened and carried her watering vessel to the side. With unhurried steps, she joined Wei at the table and sat opposite him.
"Good morning, young Wei," she greeted warmly. "How did you rest? You look noticeably better than when I last saw you, and that is a relief to me."
As she spoke, she began preparing tea, each motion deliberate and graceful.
Wei inclined his head. He welcomed the gesture. "Yes. I've received some good news that has eased my heart. Because of that, I believe it's time we begin. I'd like to learn from your knowledge of observation and your soul techniques—to better prepare for the future. Concealing one's strength, masking presence, influencing others subtly with body language. That sort of thing."
"That is acceptable," Madam Yue said, smiling faintly. "Observation is constant, never idle. One must always plan around people. That doesn't mean wishing them harm—but through small, careful choices, better outcomes are born."
The tea pot gave a soft hiss as she poured. She continued without pause.
"When I first used my soul power on you, you grew wary, but you pressed forward regardless. You needed information. You judged, correctly, that whoever had attacked you before would not be present here. While you entered, I observed you—your clothing, your expression, your voice. I noted grief in you, grief not only for the loss of a father but something greater, deeper.
"I weighed my options and chose to serve you tea, preparing it where you could see. That was no small detail. By preparing it openly, I showed no deceit. You had already shown humility without pretense, so the risk of you striking in response was negligible."
She handed him a cup, then sipped from her own before continuing.
"From that moment, the stage was set. You need something from me, and I need something from you. What I seek is valuable to me but may not be to you. What you seek is precious to you, but less so for me. That balance forms the foundation of our cooperation.
"But I must apologize."
Madam Yue lowered her head slightly. "Even our current meeting was, in truth, another test of your character and patience."
Wei sighed, though without true surprise. "I suspected as much. You wanted to see if I would praise your garden or dismiss it. Praise too eagerly, and you'd doubt my ability to gather cores. Dismiss it, or demand you attend me at once, and you'd question my sincerity."
Her lips curved faintly, eyes gleaming with approval. "That is correct. Though in truth, I hadn't crafted this test with intent. The herb I was tending requires moonlit water at precise times each day. It is one of my greatest treasures. Its essence promotes the growth of other plants. Missing a day or two won't kill it, but its vitality would be diminished.
"So I weighed the risks. To offend you—or to weaken the herb. Based on my previous observation of you, the risk of offense seemed small. I trusted that judgment."
She leaned back in her chair, letting her words settle before speaking again.
"Remember this, young Wei. Knowledge of expression, emotion, circumstance—all of these are vital. But adaptability surpasses them all. The world will never move according to your plans. An unexpected chance will appear before you, demanding you seize it or let it slip. A single unforeseen variable can unravel the work of months. In such times, you must adapt. Always be prepared."
Her words ended with the quiet sound of her tea cup touching the table. Silence stretched between them, not heavy but thoughtful. Wei bowed his head deeply.
"Thank you, Madam Yue. Your guidance is invaluable."
She waved a hand dismissively. "Even had I not told you this, you would discover it in time. All I've done is hasten your understanding."
Their talk continued, turning to practical examples. Madam Yue spoke of subtle strategies, of reading circumstances and knowing when to act boldly or remain invisible. She illustrated with simple tales: a merchant who prospered through patience, a traveler who ruined himself through arrogance, a cultivator who rose to power by knowing when to hide and when to reveal.
It wasn't long before Chu Lin appeared, balancing a tray laden with food. She set it on the table with a cheerful smile. "Here you go, freshly made. Please, eat."
Wei ate with deliberate elegance, finding the meal suited his tastes. When Chu Lin offered more, he declined politely, though the temptation lingered.
The hours that followed passed in deep discussion. Madam Yue guided Wei through the subtleties of soul power. They spoke of concealing momentum, disguising cultivation levels, cloaking one's presence entirely. They touched upon how to discern another's hidden strength, how to sense intent through faint traces of soul energy. Each subject layered upon the next, expanding Wei's knowledge and sharpening his instincts.
By the time the sun had climbed high overhead, their talk came to a natural pause. Wei excused himself with gratitude and returned to his room, thoughts whirling with new understanding. He sat in silence for a long while, letting the lessons settle into his heart.
Later, he visited his grandfather. The old man listened carefully, then chuckled softly. "Madam Yue is wise. Her mind outstrips her cultivation. Truly, the heavens were unkind to her—granting talent, but not the resources to match. What a pity."
He sighed heavily, the sound carrying both admiration and sorrow.