The Little "Punishment"

Early morning sunlight streamed through gaps in the Black Mist Forest, spilling across the winding path. After straightening his clothes, Ron headed to the Herb Shop.

The memory of Mrs. Allen's stunning appearance the previous night still lingered in his mind.

Although reason told him it had only been a temporary phenomenon, deep down he still found himself looking forward to seeing that beautiful pink-haired witch again.

When he pushed open the door to the Herb Shop, the familiar mixed scent of herbs greeted him.

Ron's eyes quickly locked onto the hunched figure behind the counter.

As expected, Mrs. Allen had returned to her usual aged appearance--

Her face was covered in wrinkles crisscrossing like a dried riverbed. Beneath her enormous hooked nose was a tightly pursed, mean-looking mouth. Her pale hair was messily twisted up behind her head, while her hands, covered in age spots, carefully inspected the quality of a potion.

Though he had expected it, witnessing such a drastic contrast with his own eyes still caused a clear flicker of disappointment to cross Ron's face.

He was just about to rearrange his expression, but judging from Mrs. Allen's reaction afterward, it seemed he had been too late.

"What? Seeing me like this seems to have disappointed you?" The old witch did not even look up. Her hands continued moving, and there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Of course not, ma'am." Ron answered quickly, inwardly giving a bitter laugh. His lack of confidence unconsciously showed through.

Mrs. Allen finally set down the bottle and raised her head to stare at the young apprentice before her. "You little brat, your thoughts are written all over your face. Who do you think you're fooling?"

Ron awkwardly looked away. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I meant no disrespect."

"Don't be nervous. I'm not going to get angry over something so trivial."

The old witch waved her hand, though her voice carried a rare gentleness:

"Yesterday's appearance was indeed more pleasing, and I preferred it myself. Unfortunately, the blade of time never shows favoritism toward anyone."

She rose, leaning on a wooden staff wrapped in strange patterns, and slowly walked over to Ron.

Her dark green eyes examined him from close range. "But come to think of it, appearance and true strength are often out of proportion. You'll gradually come to understand that in the future."

Ron could only nod in agreement.

"All right. Since young people have so much energy, I happen to have some work here waiting for you."

Mrs. Allen chuckled twice and pointed toward a dim corner at the back of the shop.

"That newly arrived batch of Hidden Thorn Vine needs processing. Remove every thorn and every knot. Not a single one can remain."

Ron followed the direction she indicated and saw a large bundle of thick, silver-gray vines piled in the corner, covered in densely packed spikes and irregular swellings.

Under the light, he could even see the cold gleam flashing from the tips of the thorns.

"This..." He instinctively swallowed, easily judging that this was no ordinary task.

Even with his current skill, processing such a large pile of Hidden Thorn Vine would take at least most of the day.

The old witch keenly caught his hesitation, and a sly glint flashed in her eyes.

"What? You think it's too tiring? Then let me tell you another piece of good news--the thorns of the Hidden Thorn Vine contain a trace toxin. Prolonged contact will numb your fingers, and if it continues to accumulate, it may even cause temporary dulling of your senses."

The corner of her mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.

"Of course, if you think this work is too arduous, you could sit here and admire my 'beautiful' face for the entire day. I wouldn't mind."

Hearing that, Ron awkwardly scratched his head and immediately understood the nature of today's task--this was probably a little punishment.

Although he felt somewhat unwilling, he also understood that Mrs. Allen, as his employer, certainly had the right to do this.

Moreover, he had always been grateful for his work at the Herb Shop.

Being able to come into contact with so many rare materials and so much knowledge, along with Mrs. Allen's constant hands-on instruction, made it impossible for him to casually refuse her requests.

"I'll process the Hidden Thorn Vine right away, ma'am." Ron nodded seriously and turned toward the pile of plants that looked hostile even at a glance.

A faint, nearly inaudible chuckle came from behind him.

Processing the Hidden Thorn Vine was indeed as painstaking and exhausting as she had said.

Ron soon understood why this work was considered a "punishment." It required not only immense patience and concentration, but also extremely high technical skill.

Each vine had to be carefully scraped with a specially made silver knife to remove the spikes and knots on its surface.

The slightest carelessness would either scrape the vine and affect its medicinal properties or leave his skin pierced by a thorn.

Within the first half hour, seven or eight tiny wounds had already appeared on his hands, while he had processed only a pitifully small number of vines.

"Your technique is wrong. Too rough." Mrs. Allen suddenly appeared beside him, her voice carrying both reprimand and instruction.

"Keep the knife at a thirty-degree angle and follow the grain of the vine. Don't go against it."

She took the tool from Ron and, with an almost unbelievable deftness, swiftly drew a perfect path across the vine.

The thorns and knots were removed neatly, while the vine itself remained completely unharmed.

Ron carefully observed the process and quickly adjusted his technique.

He had always been good at observing and learning, and Mrs. Allen's demonstration gave him considerable inspiration.

Herb Identification experience +1

As time passed, Ron's technique gradually became more practiced.

He began to identify the most efficient order of processing by observing the distribution of the thorns, and could even predict where the next knot requiring special attention would be.

Just then, he made a strange discovery--the Hidden Thorn Vines did not seem to be covered in spikes at random. Instead, they followed some difficult-to-describe pattern.

Even more wondrously, when he focused completely on his work, he seemed able to sense a faint yet clear energy fluctuation within the vines.

It was a pulse of life utterly different from breathing techniques and meditation, yet it carried the same kind of Rhythm.

"Interesting..." Ron murmured softly, completely immersed in this new discovery.

He tried coordinating his movements with this natural Rhythm as he processed the thorns, and was surprised to find that his efficiency increased considerably.

It was almost as if the vines could, to some extent, "understand" and "cooperate" with his movements.

Just as Ron was completely absorbed in his work, Mrs. Allen appeared beside him again without him noticing and handed him a cup of steaming, dark green liquid.

"Drink this. It'll alleviate the buildup of toxins." Her tone was flat, but a hint of barely perceptible approval showed in her eyes. "It seems you're better suited to this work than I imagined."

Ron gratefully accepted the cup. After briefly confirming that there was nothing wrong with it, he took a sip.

He was then somewhat surprised to find that although the liquid's color was bizarre, its taste was astonishingly sweet, like mint tea with honey added. In an instant, it dispelled the numbness in his fingers.

"Thank you, ma'am." He offered his sincere thanks before throwing himself back into his work.

Moving far faster than expected, Ron finished processing all the Hidden Thorn Vine before evening.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked with satisfaction at the perfectly processed pile of silver-gray vines, his heart filled with a sense of accomplishment.

"Not bad." Mrs. Allen inspected the results, unable to hide the astonishment in her voice.

"It's much better than I expected. It seems you've discovered the trick to processing Hidden Thorn Vine?"

Ron did not hide his discovery. "I noticed that the surface of the vines seems to follow a particular growth pattern. When my movements match it, my efficiency increases dramatically."

"A growth pattern?" An intrigued glimmer flashed in Mrs. Allen's eyes.

"Interesting... Very few people can perceive the life rhythms of supernatural plants. Your perception really is quite extraordinary."

As she spoke, she took a small pouch that had been prepared beneath the counter. The crisp sound of hard objects clinking came from within.

"Then let me settle today's payment in Magic Stone Fragments first. There are a few more than usual. The work you put in is worth the extra compensation."

Ron accepted the pouch and gave it a light weigh. There seemed to be about five Magic Stone Fragments inside, quite a bit more than the usual two.

"Thank you for your generosity, ma'am." He put away the Magic Stone Fragments and prepared to say goodbye. "See you tomorrow."

"Wait. Don't rush off just yet." The old witch suddenly called him back, a faint trace of concern entering her voice.

"Aren't you going to deal with the Primary Apprentice qualification assessment later?