The dirt tasted exactly like profound, unmitigated failure, lightly seasoned with crushed spearmint.
Li Hao didn't move. He lay flat on his stomach in the damp earth of the overgrown garden, his left cheek pressed firmly against a broad, cool leaf. His left thigh wasn't just in pain; it was vibrating with a sharp, high-frequency tearing sensation that made his vision pulse at the edges. He had definitely snapped something vital when he pivoted away from that iron mace.
"You're actually exhaling directly onto a very delicate Xing root," a bright, melodic voice said from somewhere near his ear.
She didn't sound concerned for his health. She sounded deeply, genuinely concerned for the root.
Li Hao kept his eyes closed. "Am I."
"Yes. It needs alkaline soil to properly germinate, and human sweat is highly acidic. You're sort of... ruining the pH balance."
He cracked one eye open.
A girl of maybe nineteen was kneeling in the dirt mere inches from his face. Her golden-brown hair was tied up in two messy buns secured by what looked suspiciously like dried parsnip stems. She had a smudge of dark topsoil across her nose, and her faded yellow robes were stained dark at the knees. She pulled a small brass trowel from her sleeve and casually began digging a tiny defensive trench between Li Hao's nose and her precious root.
Thirty feet away, in the background, the rhythmic, wet scrape-pause-scrape of Zhou Bao dragging an unconscious, bleeding scavenger out of the courtyard echoed through the morning air.
The girl didn't even look up at the noise. She was completely, utterly oblivious to the fact that she was currently sitting in the middle of a fresh crime scene. She hummed a slightly off-key tune, separating a clump of dirt with her thumbs.
"What is wrong with this female?" Old Geezer's voice echoed in Li Hao's skull. The ancient god sounded legitimately offended. "A martial execution just took place on these stones. She is treating the aftermath like a landscaping opportunity. Where is her reverence for the Dao?"
"She's busy," Li Hao muttered into the spearmint.
"Oh, I am," the girl agreed cheerfully, completely misunderstanding who he was talking to. "I've already identified twelve rare varietals in this overgrowth. It's a mess, obviously, but the residual Qi in the soil from centuries of sect masters living here has created a fascinating micro-climate. I'm Wen Xiaoliu, by the way."
Li Hao tried to push himself up.
A spike of pure, white-hot agony shot up his left hamstring, instantly locking his knee. If he tried to stand right now, his leg was going to give out. He would collapse back into the mud in front of a strange woman and his only disciple. The terrifying, unfathomable composure of Sect Master Wei Liang would shatter into a million irrecoverable pieces.
Okay, Li Hao thought, his heart hammering as he carefully rested his cheek back against the dirt. Plan B. Lying face-down in a cabbage patch is a highly advanced, eccentric meditation technique. This is fine. This is totally normal.
"Tell me about the micro-climate," Li Hao said. The aristocratic baritone was muffled by the earth, but he managed to keep it perfectly level.
Wen Xiaoliu's honey-brown eyes lit up.
It was the absolute worst thing he could have asked.
She started talking.
She talked about the specific moisture retention of Moon-Whisper Ferns. She pulled a soot-stained, portable pill furnace out of a spatial pouch and began gesturing with it wildly to explain thermal dynamics. She categorized weeds. She complained about the commercial standardization of modern alchemy.
She talked. And talked.
Li Hao couldn't leave. He lay there, pinned to the earth by his own torn muscle and his desperate need to maintain face. The summer humidity settled over the garden, making his heavy dark silk robes stick uncomfortably to his spine. A drop of sweat ran down his temple and stung his right eye. He didn't blink.
He watched an ant carry a remarkably large piece of a dead beetle across a pebble near his chin. The ant was having a very productive day. It had a clear goal. Li Hao felt a profound sense of envy toward the ant.
"I survived the severance of the Immortal Realms," Old Geezer noted darkly, his voice vibrating with a thousand years of pure boredom. "I watched the stars themselves burn to ash. And now I am being held hostage by a teenager explaining root rot."
"It's educational," Li Hao thought back.
"And the most irritating thing," Xiaoliu continued, aggressively repotting a sprout into a clay jar, "is that the Continental Alchemy Association thinks they own the intellectual property for basic stem-grafting. They try to track anyone using the old family recipes. It's ridiculous."
She paused, wiping her forehead with the back of a dusty sleeve.
"Oh, and I hope you don't mind," Xiaoliu said casually, packing the dirt around the sprout. "I put some basic masking wards up near the eastern wall last night."
Li Hao stopped watching the ant. "Why?"
"I saw a large cat moving around the perimeter," Xiaoliu said, entirely focused on her plant. "It was very quiet. It only stepped on exactly one dry leaf the whole time. I didn't want it digging up the soil beds while I was sleeping."
The humidity in the air suddenly felt freezing cold.
A cat, Li Hao thought. A cat that walked silently enough to avoid detection, but heavy enough to snap a single branch. Right.
He thought about the melting footprints in the frost from yesterday morning. Six people had walked through the gate, but Shen Yuebing hovered. Five disciples. One shadow.
The shadow was still here. It had been watching them all night.
"Noted," Li Hao said to the ground.
"Anyway," Xiaoliu beamed, clapping her hands together. A cloud of fine, green herbal dust puffed into the air between them. "You have very good soil here. I'd like to stay for a while and cultivate the garden, if that's acceptable. I can pay rent in pills. I have my furnace, so I won't be a bother."
Li Hao's brain flatlined.
He stared at the girl. She was nineteen, covered in dirt, smiling like the sun, and politely asking for a lease agreement in an active war zone.
I am lying face-down in the dirt, Li Hao's internal monologue screamed, fixating on the sheer absurdity of the moment. She watched a man's leg snap in half thirty minutes ago. She knows this sect is in debt and under attack. She is asking permission to stay anyway. She is literally the only person today who has not tried to kill me, extort me, or collect money from me. YES. STAY. PLEASE. NEVER LEAVE.
He needed to stand up.
Li Hao braced his hands against the earth. He drew on every single ounce of adrenaline left in his crashing nervous system, locking his jaw so hard his molars ground together. He pushed himself up, throwing his weight entirely onto his right leg, keeping his torn left leg perfectly straight to hide the tremor.
He stood tall. He brushed a layer of loose dirt from his dark silk robes, adjusting the sleeves until they hung with imposing, immaculate symmetry. He looked down at the girl with eyes like dead, black glass.
"You may remain as a guest," Li Hao said. The aristocratic baritone was flawless.
Xiaoliu smiled, completely immune to the intimidation. "Thank you! I'll go clear out the weeds near the well." She scooped up her brass trowel and trotted off toward the courtyard, humming that same off-key tune.
Before Li Hao could even exhale, the cold blue interface of the system panel snapped open behind his optic nerve.
[ SOUL CULTIVATION BOND ARRAY — STATUS UPDATE ]
[ SOUL RESONANCE DETECTED ][ Target: Wen Xiaoliu ]
[ Current Stage: 0.8 / 5.0 — Preliminary Resonance ]
[ Array Note: Subject exhibits high emotional baseline stability. ]
The phantom spike in Li Hao's head throbbed.
"Stage zero point eight," Old Geezer said. The ancient god sounded utterly, profoundly baffled. "From a conversation about dirt. That was fast. I spent eight hundred years designing this array to be the ultimate crucible of human connection, and you bypass the introductory stages by lying in a cabbage patch."
"It was spearmint," Li Hao corrected mentally.
He didn't have time to argue the psychology of it. His left leg was currently screaming.
Li Hao turned. He maintained his perfect, unhurried posture. Each step was meticulously measured, carrying the weight of an immortal expert returning to his profound meditations. He walked across the grass, up the short stone stairs, and turned the corner of the main hall's corridor, completely out of anyone's line of sight.
The absolute second the stone wall hid him from the courtyard, the facade evaporated.
Li Hao slammed his back against the cold masonry. His locked right knee gave out entirely, and he slid down the rough stone until he hit the wooden floorboards. His chest heaved violently as he desperately sucked oxygen into his burning lungs. He grabbed his left thigh with both hands, digging his fingers into the muscle, trying to massage the agonizing, seizing cramp away.
His heart was beating so fast it felt like a trapped bird battering against his ribs. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead, stinging his eyes.
"Master?"
Li Hao froze.
He slowly looked to his right.
Zhou Bao was standing at the end of the corridor. The fat disciple was holding a bloody rag he had presumably used to wipe down the courtyard stones. He was staring wide-eyed at his supposedly unfathomable Sect Master, who was currently slumped on the floor, clutching his leg, gasping for air like a drowning man.
A long, incredibly heavy silence stretched between them.
Li Hao didn't move his hands. He didn't adjust his posture. He just looked at the boy.
"Meditating," Li Hao said. His voice was slightly hoarse.
Zhou Bao blinked. He looked at the sweat dripping from Li Hao's chin. He looked at the white-knuckled grip Li Hao had on his own thigh.
"You're sweating," Zhou Bao noted weakly.
Li Hao didn't break eye contact. He let the silence hang for exactly three seconds.
"Intensely meditating," Li Hao said.
Zhou Bao swallowed hard. The Adam's apple bobbed in his thick throat. He nodded slowly, his knuckles turning white around the bloody rag. "Yes, Master. I will... leave you to your profound insights."
The boy backed away quickly, disappearing around the corner.
Li Hao let his head fall back against the hard stone wall. He closed his eyes. The shadow of the cat was outside. The Heavenly Dao was above. And he was currently operating a sect that consisted of a crying teenager, an obsessed gardener, and a ghost.
He breathed in the smell of old wood, wet rot, and his own cold sweat.
His leg continued to throb, keeping perfect, agonizing time with his racing heart.