Who Let Him Cultivate？

Chapter 33: Medicine Garden

Lu Yang shadowed the Ginseng Baby’s steps, his eyes wide as he took in the towering, verdant canopy of medicinal herbs.

Filtered sunlight pierced the thick foliage, casting dappled, golden spots across his shoulders. Shrunk down to a mere three inches, the everyday flora had transformed into a dense, primordial forest. Blades of grass were now massive trunks blocking out the sky, dwarfing him completely.

Before long, the man and the ginseng found their path cut off by a rushing, turbulent river. The water thrummed with a natural, earth-nurtured spirituality. It was the lifeblood of the herbs—watering them, absorbing their purified runoff, and creating a perfect symbiotic loop.

“This is the river guarded by the River Spirit,” the Ginseng Baby announced.

Encircling the outer perimeter of the Dao Seeking Sect was a stream that alternated between swift rapids and gentle currents. Its source was a spring of endless, crystal-clear water.

That spring boasted a history older than the Dao Seeking Sect itself. Blessed by heaven and earth, it had miraculously given birth to a single spark of spiritual light.

For an inanimate object, the ultimate Fated Chance was to awaken spiritual intelligence. That single spark was everything. If the light fused with its host, it would leap across the evolutionary chasm to become a darling of heaven and earth. If the light dissipated, it might take eons of suffering to form another. Most inanimate objects simply drifted with the current, inevitably destroyed in the crossfire of Cultivation battles long before they ever had a hope of gaining sentience.

The probability of that spark fading into nothingness was astronomically higher than it taking root.

Fortunately, a predecessor of the Dao Seeking Sect had passed through, recognized the anomaly, and cast a technique to lock that spark of spiritual light within the spring. Only then did the water truly nurture genuine spiritual intelligence. Grateful for the sect’s profound kindness, the spirit of the spring volunteered to act as a guardian.

This stream wound its way through the entire Dao Seeking Sect. On the outside, it served as a protective moat; on the inside, it was a wellspring of boundless vitality.

The spirit of this clear spring was known as the River Spirit.

Of course, from a normal-sized human’s perspective, the “river” in front of them was barely a foot wide. The current was sluggish at best. Calling it a stream was already a generous compliment.

But to a three-inch Lu Yang, it was a roaring, white-water rapid.

A simple wooden plank spanned the water, acting as a makeshift bridge. It looked like something the Medicine Kings had set up in advance for their own convenience.

As Lu Yang stepped onto the plank and crossed the water, he couldn’t shake a bizarre feeling. The current beneath him seemed to accelerate, bubbling and frothing as if… it was genuinely excited to see him?

Lu Yang decided not to think too hard about it.

Not far ahead, a majestic city wall loomed into view. It was constructed from massive blue stones, each one larger than Lu Yang’s entire body. As they drew closer, he realized it was simply the boundary wall of the Medicine Garden.

The Ginseng Baby trotted up to the base of the wall and dug into the dirt, unearthing several transparent, crystalline blocks. They looked hollowed out, like empty glass husks drained of whatever they once held.

Flexible as tentacles, the Ginseng Baby’s root tendrils elongated, deftly stringing the transparent blocks together.

“This is…” Lu Yang raised an eyebrow. The husks looked incredibly familiar.

“I remember you humans call these things Spirit Stones,” the Ginseng Baby chirped.

Realization dawned on Lu Yang. No wonder they looked familiar—these were Spirit Stones that had been completely sucked dry of their Spiritual Qi. He had just never seen ones of such pristine, flawless quality before.

“You like these?” the Ginseng Baby asked. “Little Ba often buries these blocks by the wall. Once they’re empty, he has me collect them so he can haul them away all at once.”

It all made sense now. Cultivating high-tier medicinal herbs required an ocean of Spiritual Qi, and the natural ambient energy in the Medicine Garden wasn’t infinite. To solve this, the Dao Seeking Sect literally buried Spirit Stones in the dirt as fertilizer to provide pure, refined Spiritual Qi.

No wonder the air in the Medicine Garden felt so thick he could practically chew it. It was being force-fed by Spirit Stones. And given the sheer scale of the garden, they definitely weren’t using cheap rocks. These had to be astronomically rare High Grade Spirit Stones.

Dragging its string of drained stones, the Ginseng Baby took the lead. Lu Yang followed closely, step for step.

As they walked, the Ginseng Baby casually struck up a conversation.

“Beneath our feet, there’s a massive Formation covering the entire Medicine Garden. It’s called the Eternal Evergreen Formation. It helps us grow up big and strong. These transparent stones are the fuel for it.”

Lu Yang had read about the Eternal Evergreen Formation. It was the absolute pinnacle of agricultural Formations used for cultivating spirit herbs. The construction costs alone were staggering, and it burned through a mountain of Spirit Stones every single year.

“Oh, right,” the Ginseng Baby added, looking back over its shoulder. “I heard from Little Ba that our Dao Seeking Sect is incredibly poor. He said that just to afford feeding us, you guys are practically starving. He told me about these ‘Cuju’ matches you hold, where a bunch of disciples fight until their heads are split open and bleeding, all just to fight over a single ball to survive. Is that true?”

Lu Yang stared blankly ahead, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

Elder Ba looked like a kind, benevolent grandfather, but the man clearly felt zero moral turbulence about ruthlessly gaslighting a bunch of sentient vegetables.

“This here is the Delusion-Breaking Immortal Wood,” the Ginseng Baby said, pointing a root. “It has the power to shatter illusions and perceive the absolute truth. It’s the ultimate bane of all mirages. If you ever fall under a mind-altering spell, just grip this wood tightly, and the illusion will break.”

Lu Yang followed the Ginseng Baby’s gaze.

He was looking at a cactus.

“And that over there is the Explosive Sun Flower,” the Ginseng Baby continued, gesturing to another patch. “It’s a mandatory material for cultivating the Blazing Sun Dharma Body. Beyond that, adding its petals to any fire-attribute Pill will infuse it with a trace of the Blazing Sun True Intent. It’s a massive boost for Cultivators with fire-attribute spiritual roots.”

“The absolute peak quality for an Explosive Sun Flower is Nine Revolutions. A Nine Revolutions flower is potent enough to aid an expert at the Tribulation Transcendence stage. This entire patch here is full of Six, Seven, and Eight Revolutions flowers.”

The Ginseng Baby then pointed toward a towering canopy in the distance. “That’s the Enlightenment Grove. Steeping its leaves in water grants the drinker a state of profound enlightenment. The wood itself is a premium material for crafting High Grade Dharma Treasures. I heard they fetch sky-high prices in the outside world. Every autumn, Little Ba harvests a massive batch of Enlightenment Leaves for you disciples to consume.”

Lu Yang had read countless texts romanticizing the Enlightenment Tree. The books used every flowery adjective imaginable, praising it as an immortal seed and a divine wood. The rapid, meteoric rise of humanity in the ancient era was heavily attributed to the existence of the Enlightenment Tree.

But this was his first time seeing one in person.

To a three-inch Lu Yang, the tree—which stood over a hundred feet tall—looked like the mythical Jianmu world tree that pierced the heavens. Just craning his neck to look at the upper branches made him dizzy, as if the Great Dao itself was roaring in his ears.

“Little Ba told me that low-level Cultivators shouldn’t eat the Enlightenment Leaves,” the Ginseng Baby noted sagely. “He said you guys lack the Dao-heart and foundation for it. Eating them too early is like pulling up a seedling to help it grow—it ruins your future Cultivation.”

“It makes sense. It’s the exact same principle as us herbs getting chemical burns if we’re given too much fertilizer when we’re young.”

Lu Yang nodded slowly. *Another brilliant lie to protect the sect’s most valuable assets.*

“The older the tree, the stronger the enlightenment effect of its leaves,” the Ginseng Baby explained. “The oldest Enlightenment Tree in that grove is even older than I am. It’s a Medicine King, too. You’ll meet it soon.”

The Ginseng Baby paused by a patch of delicate, crimson-tinted weeds. “This is Acacia Grass. It’s the core ingredient for refining the Acacia Moonlight Pill. If two people separated by vast distances swallow the pill at the exact moment a bright moon hangs in the sky, their minds will link. They can converse across time and space.”

“Legend has it that in the ancient era, there were two lovers. The man was the son of a great clan’s patriarch, and the woman was a lowly descendant of slaves. They met while he was out hunting, fell in love at first sight, and swore their lives to one another.”

“But as the heir to a great clan, he had no right to choose his own bride, let alone marry a slave. His clan forced him into an arranged marriage with the daughter of another patriarch to secure a political alliance.”

“The man refused to yield. On the day of his grand wedding, he slipped out of the estate and eloped with his true love.”

“When the clan elders found out, they flew into a rage and dispatched their deadliest experts to hunt them down. The assassins struck the woman down, and she died in the man’s arms. Overcome with grief and absolute despair, the man slit his own throat. Their blood pooled together, soaking into a patch of wild grass. It stained the plants all the way down to their roots, transforming them into Acacia Grass.”

Lu Yang was entirely captivated by the tragic romance. A pang of sympathy hit his chest. “That’s so touching,” he murmured instinctively. “Did that really happen?”

“Nope,” the Ginseng Baby said, its voice entirely deadpan. “Total fabrication. Someone made the whole thing up just to drive up the market price of Acacia Grass. I was sitting right next to them when they brainstormed the marketing pitch.”

“…”