Two days later, Madame Falan returned from her travels.
"Have you decided on going to the Hidden Woodland?" The blonde noblewoman rested a hand lightly on the armrest, tapping it from time to time in quiet contemplation.
"In truth, I once traveled to such a place myself, though not in the Raygas Principality, but over by the Merchant Cities Alliance." She searched her memories a moment. "The competition there is exceptionally fierce, filled with prodigies and favored youths handpicked from every land.
"If you lack background and deep roots, going there is indeed the best choice, though it does carry a certain danger.
"Originally, I intended to have you stay by my side a little longer. In another two years, I could directly recommend you into those organizations without the need to pass through the selection trials of the Hidden Woodland.
"That path would be far easier and far safer." She looked up at the girl before her. "However, since you wish to carve your own path, I will not stand in your way. In truth, you will gain far more tempering this way.
"As the ancient proverb says, 'A warm room cannot nurture hardy blooms.' A person generally needs to experience hardships before they can truly grow." At this point, Madame Falan remembered something.
"Little Tiya, do you enjoy cultivating plants?" she suddenly asked.
"I do, because the process fills one with anticipation and hope."
"A rather interesting perspective. Most people plant and cultivate only for the eventual harvest."
"Some care about the result, while others cherish the journey. Though one cannot say which is superior..." Her expression turned slightly solemn. "Tiya, the result lasts only a fleeting moment, while most of your time is spent in waiting.
"If you cannot find joy in the waiting, you will only suffer. Waiting is the dullest thing in the world—facing myriad unknowns, guessing at future developments, feeling nervous and anxious over how it will all end.
"This anxiety and anguish will eventually devour your talent, your spirit, and the serene peace of mind you held when you first set out."
"I understand, Madame." Xilutaiya realized Madame Falan was imparting a vital lesson to be kept close to heart.
"Speaking with a clever child is always so pleasant." Seeing that Xilutaiya had taken the words to heart, Madame Falan gave a slight nod. "Since you have resolved to compete for that slot next year, then as the one guiding you along the path of a gardener, I must teach you some real skills as soon as possible.
"Not merely the Branch Trimming Method and the Gardening Apprentice rank, but also the means for a gardener to protect herself in the face of danger.
"If you truly enter the Hidden Woodland, such skills are practically mandatory. Otherwise, even if you make it there, you will struggle to survive such an environment." She considered for a moment. "Starting tomorrow, I will have Lining instruct you in some practical combat techniques. In addition, I will gradually impart some of my early notes and the gardener secret texts I acquired over the years.
"Even if you cannot master what is written in them right now, once your rank is high enough, you will naturally come to understand them."
"Thank you, Madame." Xilutaiya felt a stir of anticipation and curiosity.
***
Ever since their discussion about the future that day, everyone had grown busy. Kailun threw herself into training her Breathing Method, striving to reach the third stage this month.
In truth, the Breathing Method was a peculiar art. If the companions and comrades around you had attained higher stages of the technique, even if you had not yet broken through, the constant exposure to their peculiar pulse and breathing rhythm would gradually draw you into sync, allowing you to slowly grasp the true cadence within.
In this way, making a breakthrough became comparatively easier.
History recorded many such instances. For example, during the early pioneering days of the Raygas Principality, nearly every soldier in Leijiade's legions knew a breathing method, and countless third-order Castle knights emerged from their ranks. It was for this very reason that Leijiade Buweili had been honored as the Knight King, and such an era of gathered heroes was remembered in chronicles as the golden age of a founding kingdom.
As their combat studies and physical training gradually plateaued, the students stopped gathering at the training grounds every afternoon, instead arranging their time independently.
"Brother Jieluo!"
That afternoon, Mick returned to the familiar courtyard in the south of the city and shouted toward the house.
"Oh, Mick's back!" Seeing him, the others waved with broad smiles.
"You've changed quite a bit lately. You're looking a lot sturdier and more solid." Someone stepped over and thumped his arm to test his muscles.
"Heh heh." Facing these old acquaintances and seniors, Mick rubbed his head, feeling as though he had turned back into the green boy who had only just stepped into adventuring.
"I really have learned a lot during this time," he answered with a touch of emotion. Then his eyes scanned the yard. "Where's Brother Jieluo?"
"Him... he's resting in his room right now." At this mention, the team members' expressions turned somewhat subtle.
Sensing the strange atmosphere, Mick asked no further questions. He briskly walked up to the house in the yard, pushed open the crude wooden door, and stepped inside.
The coarse cloth curtains were drawn shut, with only faint slivers of light filtering through the tears and seams. Numerous wine bottles lay toppled across the floor, while thunderous snores echoed from the bed.
Seeing Jieluo sound asleep, Mick felt slightly relieved. He had feared some mishap had occurred.
He picked up the wine bottles from the floor one by one and set them into a wooden crate. Then, Mick pulled over a small stool and sat down beside the sleeping Jieluo.
"Brother Jieluo, I reached the first-order." Mick kept his voice low, loud enough only for the two of them in the room.
In the past, he likely would have shouted the announcement to make everyone envious. But now he had matured considerably and witnessed far more powerful figures, so reaching the first-order no longer felt like an achievement worth losing his mind over.
Unfortunately, the man on the bed heard none of it, continuing to snore heavily.
Mick shook his head helplessly, feeling a twinge of deflated joy. He stood up and looked around the dilapidated room, remembering the very first time he had come here.
He was born in a village far from Burnt Stone City, situated along a major thoroughfare. The village inn was bustling every season, and his mother was a hired hand there.
She was an ordinary woman. Having to deal with greasy, unruly travelers day in and day out, her temperament had gradually grown sharp and shrewish, entirely devoid of the gentle warmth Mick imagined a mother ought to possess. She could hardly be called attentive to him, merely ensuring he did not starve to death.
When he grew older, Mick began looking for work, starting by doing odd jobs around the village like the other children.
The event that truly changed his destiny was the day Jieluo arrived with a band of teammates to fulfill a quest, clearing out the powerful wild beasts running rampant in the surrounding area.
By chance, Mick had come into contact with a breathing method. After spending several days, he completed a full cycle of the exercise for the first time. Deciding he was promising material, Jieluo spoke with Mick's mother and brought him away from the village.
Nearly two years had passed since he left home. Not only had he grown taller and his physique changed markedly, but more importantly, he was no longer as blind and ignorant as before.
Knowledge truly could change a person. Mick caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, recalling the changes of the past few months.
His reflections finished, he turned his attention back to Jieluo, intending to say goodbye before leaving.
He gently shifted Jieluo's sleeping body into a straighter position, then smoothed out the crumpled sheets. As he did, Mick suddenly noticed something. He picked up a half-burned sprig of withered brown herb from the bed and took a sniff.
It was the scent of Sunsway Grass—specifically, properly cured and roasted Sunsway Grass. Mick's brow furrowed slightly.
When cured and burned, this herb released a pungent, choking smoke that most people found unpleasant. But if one grew accustomed to the fumes, it offered an intoxicating, numbing sensation that could suppress pain and soothe anxiety.
Did Brother Jieluo use this now? He had never seen Jieluo touch it before.
Perhaps he was using it to suppress old injuries, Mick reasoned on his behalf. Jieluo did indeed carry plenty of lingering wounds.
Still, becoming addicted to this stuff was never good. Back when Mick was a child, he had seen addicts at the inn; their spirits withered completely, and they could only muster energy when inhaling Sunsway Grass.
Filled with a lingering trace of worry, Mick tidied up the room and stepped outside.
"I'll come back in a few days to share my results with you, Brother," he murmured toward the sleeping figure, then pulled the door shut behind him.
Chapter 62