The tiny green shoot, no thicker than a single strand of silk, had become Long Hu's silent companion. Each morning, he'd visit it, feeling the faint, rhythmic pulse of life it emitted. His hands, no longer raw, seemed to possess a delicate wisdom as he tended to the garden, every severed weed, every gently turned soil, a note in the silent symphony of growth he was beginning to perceive. The 'thrum' from the spiritual parasites was now a complex melody of discord, easily distinguishable from the vibrant hum of healthy flora.
He began to experiment. While sweeping the pavilion's grand halls, he'd trace the intricate carvings on the jade, feeling for that subtle hum. The Jade Dew Fountain, now gleaming, still sang with its pure, clear note, but the tiny green vein he'd uncovered resonated with a deeper, richer tone. He found himself spending less time scrubbing and more time *listening* to the spiritual world with a sense he couldn't name.
One crisp morning, Master Tian arrived with a rare, severe frown etched upon his austere face. "Apprentice Long Hu," he intoned, his voice sharper than usual. "A grave issue has arisen. The 'Azure Heart Stream' that nourishes the Central Garden's Spirit Grove is weakening. Its flow is erratic, its essence diluted. Our formations show no external interference, yet the spiritual purity declines."
He gestured towards a section of the garden Long Hu hadn't yet been assigned to – a grove of ancient, majestic trees, their leaves once iridescent, now faintly dull. "The Empress desires a solution. Normal methods have yielded nothing. You will… investigate the stream's path within the grove. Find the source of the blockage or impurity. This is no mere cleaning task. The fate of the Spirit Grove, and the spiritual well-being of a portion of this palace, depends on it."
Long Hu felt a surge of trepidation. This was far beyond weeds and fountains. He was being asked to diagnose a spiritual ailment that baffled powerful cultivators. Yet, as he looked at Master Tian's unusually troubled eyes, a strange, quiet confidence settled within him. He might not wield Qi, but he had his senses.
He entered the Spirit Grove, the air thick with ancient spiritual energy, now tinged with an unpleasant, stagnant scent. He knelt by the Azure Heart Stream, its crystalline waters sluggish, its usual vibrant hum replaced by a faint, sickly murmur. Closing his eyes, he reached out, not with spiritual sense, but with that peculiar, newfound intuition.
He *felt* the stream. Not as water, but as a living current of essence, its path riddled with tiny, almost imperceptible knots and tangles. It was like tracing an invisible thread through a labyrinth. Deeper he delved, following the whispers of the stagnant energy, bypassing the obvious roots and stones, until he located it: a cluster of incredibly minute, parasitic crystals, no larger than grains of sand, embedded deep within the stream bed. They pulsed with a discordant vibration, subtly disrupting the spiritual flow. They were the ultimate spiritual impurities, virtually invisible to the eye and even most spiritual senses.
He reached into the icy water, his fingers gingerly seeking the tiny crystals. He couldn't extract them by brute force; they were too fragile, too intertwined with the stream's essence. But he could *feel* their discordant hum. He focused, his will absolute, and with a precision born of intuition, he began to gently, almost lovingly, *coax* the vibrant essence of the stream to bypass the minute imperfections, allowing it to flow around them, neutralizing their draining effect. It wasn't cultivation; it was an innate spiritual manipulation.
Back in her private study, Empress Xianxia sat before a scrying mirror, observing. Her initial amusement had long since transformed into profound fascination. She watched as the sluggish Azure Heart Stream in the mirror began to ripple, its dull glow slowly intensifying. The ancient trees of the Spirit Grove seemed to sigh, their leaves regaining a subtle brilliance.
"He... cleared it," Master Tian breathed, his usual composure utterly shattered. "Without a single shred of spiritual energy. He merely… *coaxed* the stream."
Xianxia's smile was no longer mischievous, but sharp, predatory. "A natural anomaly," she murmured, her gaze unwavering on the image of Long Hu, kneeling by the stream, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was exhausted, but a faint, almost ethereal glow emanated from his hands as he gently guided the spiritual flow.
She had sought to humble a Harem Lord. Instead, she had unearthed a unique spiritual conduit, a walking, breathing anomaly capable of manipulating essence without cultivation. Her long-held spite still burned, but now it was tinged with a thrilling curiosity. This wasn't merely revenge; this was a fascinating, dangerous game. Long Hu was not just an apprentice; he was a key to secrets she hadn't even known existed.
As Long Hu finally pulled his hands from the now brightly flowing stream, a profound weariness settled over him, but also a sense of exhilaration. He had no spiritual roots, no cultivation. But he had fixed it. And for the briefest moment, a flash of a distant memory, of complex arrays and intricate energy pathways, flickered at the edge of his awareness, a whisper of a power he couldn't yet grasp. He looked up at the vast palace, a new determination in his eyes. His journey, fueled by the Empress's cruel whims, was taking a path far stranger than he could have ever imagined.