Wood Nurturing Technique (Novice)

Outside the window, snow fell without a sound.

Shen Hui sat on the edge of the bed, the flame suspended in midair before him, flipping through the Wood Nurturing Chapter over and over again.

The silk manuscript said the Wood Nurturing Technique could prolong life.

He had noticed that line the first time through—after all, who wouldn't want a few more years to live?

But the further he read, the more he felt this art was not so simple.

"Wood governs growth, thus it can spur vitality; Wood governs wind, thus it can move air currents; Wood governs thunder, thus it can wield lightning arts."

He stared at these words, his brow slowly furrowing.

Were these three different paths, or three progressive stages?

Spurring vitality meant nourishing oneself, prolonging life.

Moving air currents was the art of summoning wind, capable of affecting the outside world.

Wielding lightning arts... that was a means of killing, different from fire arts—after all, lightning was meant to strike.

If he could truly obtain all three, then the value of this Wood Nurturing Technique was far greater than he had imagined.

He tried following the method described in the manuscript, closing his eyes to look inward, sensing for that thread of "Wood Qi."

The fire in his chest was still fire, warm and steady.

But what was "Wood Qi" supposed to feel like?

The manuscript said, "Like a spring breeze brushing the face, like a tender sprout breaking through soil." Shen Hui pondered it in his mind for a long time, only to conclude that a spring breeze was a spring breeze, and a tender sprout was a tender sprout—neither had anything to do with him.

He opened his eyes and let out a sigh.

Talent—this thing really couldn't be faked.

He had been able to comprehend fire arts on his own because he was naturally aligned with that "Nature Fire" principle.

But this wood art... he was an outsider who had crossed over here. In his past life, he couldn't even keep a succulent alive—where would he get a "growth" nature?

He tried all night.

Outside the window, the snow stopped and fell, stopped and fell again.

That thread of "Wood Qi" stubbornly refused to be sensed at all. At most, the fire in his chest would occasionally jump, as if mocking him.

As dawn approached, he finally gave up.

"Fine."

He muttered under his breath, "Save where you can, spend where you must."

With a thought, he summoned the parchment interface.

[Consume 100 Dao Xing points to learn Lesser Five Elements Art: Wood Nurturing Chapter (Beginner)?]

A clear stream materialized out of nowhere.

Unlike the hot, surging warmth of fire arts, a cool, lingering energy slowly poured down from the top of his head.

That clear stream flooded into his limbs and bones, into every inch of flesh and blood.

Shen Hui closed his eyes, immersing himself in that coolness.

He didn't know how long passed before he opened them, feeling light all over, his breathing even smoother than before.

He instinctively looked at the interface. The Wood Nurturing Technique column had lit up, and beneath it, a dense string of small text had appeared.

[Wood Nurturing Technique (Beginner)]

[Annotation]: Practicing this art requires cultivating hair; do not shave it lightly, to correspond with the flourishing image of Wood Qi.

[Effects]:

First: Preserve youth and prolong life.

Beginner: Can make complexion ruddy and radiant.

Minor Success: Can turn white hair black, firm loose teeth.

Major Success: Can regrow lost teeth, extend lifespan by sixty years.

Second: Summon wind.

Beginner: Can bring a gentle breeze within ten paces, stirring sleeves and flipping pages.

Minor Success: Can send fallen leaves flying within a hundred paces, wind moving with the heart, dispelling miasma and fog.

Major Success: If the time is right, can manipulate clouds and rain, altering the weather of a region.

Third: Wield thunder and arrange celestial steps.

Major Success in Wood Nurturing can summon Jia Wood Azure Thunder.

Jia Wood Azure Thunder: Azure-green in color, sounds like a muffled drum. Upon landing, it bursts without splitting; those struck are paralyzed throughout.

Evil entities will be scorched by the life force within the thunder, as if burned by raging fire; living humans will merely faint, waking up feeling refreshed instead.

This thunder can hasten the ripening of plants.

A single thunderclap strikes down, and within ten paces, crops can ripen overnight while wild grass grows to the height of a man.

It can also awaken withered wood, causing old trees that have been dead for years to sprout new shoots.

This is the sign of "Spring Thunder Awakening," unique to Wood Thunder.

Shen Hui stared at the dense rows of text, his eyes growing wider and wider.

Preserve youth and extend life, summon wind and rain, drive thunder and lightning!

Was this still the "support spell" he had thought it was?

It seemed that what was poured in with Dao Xing points was indeed vastly different from what was slowly comprehended on one's own.

He scrolled down further, wanting to see how many points were needed for minor mastery.

[Wood Nurturing Technique (Minor Mastery) requires 1000 Dao Xing points, current insufficient]

One thousand.

Shen Hui gave a bitter laugh and closed the interface.

As expected.

Fire magic had been the same price back then—one hundred for entry, one thousand for minor mastery.

At this rate, major mastery would probably cost ten thousand.

He stood up, walked to the window, and pushed it open a crack.

Morning light had already seeped through the clouds, shining on the snow-covered ground, so white it was dazzling.

On the bare branches of the old locust tree in the courtyard, a few sparrows were sleeping exposed, occasionally shaking the snow from their wings.

Shen Hui's mind stirred slightly, and he formed a hand seal for the Wind-Borne Art.

A gentle breeze arose from nowhere, soft and light, blowing toward the old locust tree.

The branches swayed, and the few exposed sparrows startled, flapping noisily into the air, making a bare circuit around the courtyard before finally landing back in the same spot.

He withdrew his hand, the corner of his mouth curling up.

Within ten paces, the clear wind comes on its own.

Though for now it could only rustle leaves and flip book pages, what about later?

When he reached minor mastery, leaves would scatter within a hundred paces; when he reached major mastery, he would move clouds and summon rain, drive thunder and lightning.

By then, wind and fire working together...

A scene formed in his mind: a sky-filling gale whipping up raging flames, wind fueling fire, fire borrowing wind's might, leaving nothing alive in its wake.

Boiling the sea was unrealistic, but burning mountains... that should be no problem.

Shen Hui stood at the window, gazing at the old locust tree, and suddenly laughed out loud.

Having cheats was really great!

Outside the window, the snow had stopped falling at some point, the stars began to fade, and the courtyard grew bright.

He turned back to the bedside and sat down cross-legged.

There was still much to do today. Go to the hot spring, bathe, cultivate. For now, he needed to take a good look at this silk scroll.

Before dawn, Shen Hui had already left the house.

The winter dawn was bitingly cold. He wrapped his Daoist robe tighter and stepped into the snow, one deep footfall after another.

The accumulated snow rose past his ankles, each step crunching loudly, the sound traveling far through the silent mountain forest.

He didn't use any spell to clear the path, just walked.

The mountain road was completely buried under snow; the familiar trails of ordinary days had long since vanished, leaving him to feel his way by memory and the terrain.

Occasionally, he stepped into a hollow, his body lurching, sending up a puff of snow that splattered across his robe. He didn't mind, just patted it off and kept walking.

Walking on, he suddenly stopped.

The pine trees by the roadside were laden with snow, their branches bent low like open white umbrellas.

The distant mountain ranges layered one upon another, from near to far, shifting from dark green to grayish white, the farthest peaks hidden in mist and clouds, revealing only faint outlines.

Shen Hui stood there, watching for a long time.

He remembered the snow he had seen in his past life.

Snow in the city melted as soon as it fell, turning into black mud; what little accumulated was crushed by cars and trampled by people, filthy and dirty.

He had never known that snow could be so clean, so whole, so quiet, like a dream.

He continued forward, walking even slower than before.

Sometimes he would walk a few steps and stop, standing beneath a tree, tilting his head back to gaze at the icicles.

Sometimes he would crouch down, brushing aside the snow with his hand to look at the moss still green beneath.

Sometimes, for no reason at all, he would simply stand there, staring at the distant snowy peaks, his gaze hazy.

When the red sun peeked out from the eastern ridge, he was standing on a sunny slope.

The light at first was just a faint smear of gold and red, creeping slowly up along the mountain's spine.

Gradually, the light grew brighter, richer, until finally it leaped over the summit in a burst, dyeing the entire forest a warm, cozy orange-red.

Shen Hui stood there, motionless.

The light fell on his face, moving inch by inch from his forehead to the bridge of his nose, from the bridge of his nose to his chin.

He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth spread across his skin, as if someone were gently stroking him with a warm palm.

It was a long while before he opened his eyes.

The mountain had awakened.

Birdsong rose from the woods, first a few calls, then a chorus.

Snow rustled down from the branches, landing on the thicker snowdrifts below with soft, muffled thuds.

A long animal cry came from afar—some creature or other, stretching its limbs in the morning light.

Shen Hui simply sat down cross-legged in the snow.

He thought of nothing, just sat there.

Watching the red sun climb inch by inch, watching the light and shadow slowly shift across the slope, watching a flock of sparrows flit from this tree to that, chattering endlessly.

A squirrel leaped down from a pine tree, plunging into the snow until only its fluffy tail was visible.

It scrabbled in the snow for a while, dug out a pinecone, then bounced in three quick hops onto a rock beside Shen Hui, jumped over his leg, and finally climbed onto his shoulder.

Shen Hui didn't move.

The squirrel stood on his shoulder, holding the pinecone in its front paws, nibbling rapidly with its tiny mouth, cracking out a pine nut, stuffing it in, and chewing with its cheeks bulging.

As it chewed, it looked around, its small black eyes darting everywhere.

Perhaps finding this "rock" quite steady, it finished one nut, cracked another, chewed again, eating with total focus.

Shen Hui could feel the tiny claws lightly stepping on his shoulder, could feel the occasional flick of its tail brushing the fur of his ear.

He did not disturb the little creature.

A long time passed.

Crack.

The sound of a branch breaking came from nearby—probably a dead twig snapping under the weight of snow.

The squirrel startled, dropping the pinecone from its paws into the snow.

It shot off Shen Hui's shoulder, bounced behind the pine tree in a few leaps, and vanished.

Only then did Shen Hui move his slightly stiff neck, looking down at the fallen pinecone.

He reached out, picked it up, pried a pine nut from the scales, peeled it, and put it in his mouth.

It was fragrant, with a faint oily taste as he chewed.

Just then, the same squirrel poked its head out of the snow again.

It had somehow reappeared, holding something in its front paws, staring blankly at Shen Hui.

Shen Hui looked down—it was holding another pinecone, even bigger than the last.

The squirrel stood frozen, as if puzzled: How did the rock move?

Seeing its dazed expression, the corner of Shen Hui's mouth curved slightly:

"Many thanks for the pine nut, Your Excellency."

With that, he stood up, brushed the snow off his robe, and continued up the mountain.

Shen Hui climbed higher.

The deeper into the mountains he went, the thicker the snow became. In some places, it buried his calves, and he had to exert effort to pull his feet free.

Rounding a ridge, a blaze of fiery red suddenly appeared before him.

It was a wild hawthorn tree, growing on the leeward side of the slope, its branches laden with fruit—each one bright red, strikingly vivid against the white snow.

Some had already been pecked by birds, revealing pale yellow flesh; others were still intact, coated in a thin layer of frost, glistening in the morning light.

Shen Hui walked over, reached out, and picked one.

The fruit was icy cold, hard in his hand.

He took a bite.

The flesh was soft, a sweet-and-sour taste melting in his mouth, carrying the unique fragrance of the wild.

"Mm."

He took another bite, finished the entire fruit, and spat out a few tiny seeds.

Then he looked up at the tree laden with red fruit and began to pick them.

For the high ones, he stood on tiptoe; for the low ones, he bent down.

He plucked them one by one, gathering them in the hem of his Daoist robe, bundling it into a bulging pouch.

For those he couldn't quite reach, he shook the branches, letting the fruit fall into the snow, then bent to pick them up.

After nearly half an hour of picking, the hawthorn tree had lost a small fraction of its fruit.

Shen Hui looked down at the bundle of red fruit in his arms, estimated it was enough for a few people, stopped, and continued upward.

The mountain gradually grew lively.

The snow was covered in paw prints—some large, some small, some deep, some shallow—dense and overlapping, as if a lively gathering had taken place here.

A few pheasants were scratching in the snow in the distant woods, their long tails dragging trails behind them.

Further off, an animal that looked like a cat but was larger crouched on a tree branch, its fur a yellowish-brown, with a tuft of black hair at the tips of its ears. It stared motionless at the pheasants scratching in the snow.

A lynx.

Shen Hui recognized it.

He didn't approach. The lynx glanced at him but didn't move, continuing to fix its gaze on its prey.

There were others he didn't recognize.

One, like a deer but smaller, with grayish-brown fur, hopping through the snow;

Another, resembling a wild boar but with a shorter snout, rooting around under a tree, searching for something;

And a bird, pure white except for a streak of black at the tips of its wings, which called out as it flew overhead—a crisp sound, like a small bell being tapped.

Most were ordinary birds and beasts.

Occasionally, he could sense a faint trace of spiritual energy fluctuation, but it was very weak, almost imperceptible.

Shen Hui knew these were creatures that had just absorbed a bit of heaven and earth's spiritual energy, not yet awakened to intelligence, and not considered demons.

He continued walking.

The hot spring was close.

Rounding the last bend, the familiar mist rushed toward him.

Milky-white steam rose from the pool's surface, churning and rolling in the cold air, shrouding the surrounding pine trees and strange rocks in a hazy veil.

Shen Hui approached the pool's edge. He didn't rush to undress but first looked around.

The dozen or so Spirit Nourishing Grasses were not far from the pool, each protected by a rough stone enclosure.

He crouched down to examine them closely. Every single one looked much more vigorous than when they had been in the pot.

Their leaves were spread out, a vivid green, and the bottom two leaves had grown to the length of a little finger, faintly glowing.

He counted.

One, two, three, four...

When he reached thirteen, Shen Hui frowned, straightened up, and muttered under his breath:

"Thirteen plants?"

He shook his head, didn't dwell on it, and began to undress.

His Daoist robe was draped over a clean stone, his undergarments folded on top, and finally, the bundle of hawthorns was set beside the stone.

Naked, he stepped into the water. The warm pool rose past his waist, past his chest, past his shoulders.

He rested his head on a smooth stone, leaned back, and submerged his entire body, leaving only his head above the surface.

The mist churned around him, obscuring the distant mountains and the path he had come from.

Shen Hui closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

Bliss.