Despite the blunder with the Snow Dew Flower, the day proved bountiful. Guided by Song's uncanny spiritual perception, they unearthed nearly a dozen low-grade spirit plants, their vibrant leaves and roots a testament to their skill. They could have harvested more, but by midday, Song's strength was waning, his injured leg throbbing with every step. His face paled, sweat beading on his brow as he struggled to keep pace. Wind, noticing his partner's faltering steps, clapped a hand on his shoulder, his voice warm but firm.
"You look like you're about to keel over, Song."
"Let's call it a day. No sense pushing you to collapse."
Song managed a weary nod, gratitude flickering in his tired eyes. As they approached the weathered gates of the Servants' Quarter, Wind's grin widened, his enthusiasm undimmed by the earlier mishap.
"Not bad for half a day's work, brother!"
"A few more trips like this, and we'll meet Alchemist Edge's quota."
"You're a hidden gem, Song. With your skills, we'll be swimming in merit points!"
"But you've got to work on that stamina—half-day hunts are a waste of your talent."
Song hesitated, his voice soft and reluctant.
"About that, Wind... I need two more days to recover."
"I know I already owe you a lot, but my injuries are still holding me back."
Wind's eyes widened, his brows shooting up in surprise.
"Injuries? What injuries are you talking about?"
"Got hurt two weeks ago," Song admitted, his gaze dropping.
"A couple of fractures—nothing major, but my body hasn't fully healed."
Wind stared, his expression a mix of shock and exasperation.
"Fractures? And you're out here traipsing through the Forbidden Garden?"
"Using your spiritual sense like a master and kicking apart high-grade spirit plants?"
"You're a madman, Song!"
He shook his head, but his tone softened, a hint of admiration creeping in.
"Fine. Meet me at the garden gates at dawn in two days. Rest up, you lunatic."
Song offered a faint smile, saying nothing. He already felt indebted to Wind for partnering with him—asking for more time seemed almost shameless, especially when their bond was still new.
At Alchemist Edge's hut, the air was thick with the pungent aroma of dried herbs and lingering pollen. Piles of grass and roots cluttered a massive wooden table, and a lone stove in the corner supported a teapot that seemed perpetually on the verge of boiling over. Edge, a grizzled old man with a perpetual scowl, looked up as they entered, his eyes narrowing with mild irritation.
"So, you've roped this sly fox Wind into helping you, eh?" he grunted, his voice rough as gravel.
Song bowed slightly, his tone respectful.
"Senior Alchemist Edge, I'm still learning to identify herbs."
"I sought Brother Wind's guidance, and he kindly agreed to aid me."
Edge snorted, leaning back in his chair.
"Fine. But don't expect your friend to carry you forever, boy."
"Learn your trade. Now, show me what you've brought."
Wind carefully laid out their haul on the cleared table: two Dragon Knots, their roots gnarled and potent; four Blueleaf Ferns, their leaves shimmering with faint spiritual energy; two Yellow Bells, delicate yet vibrant; a pristine Razorstem Grass, earning a nod of approval for its eleven merit points; six Monstrous Tongues, each worth two points; and the mangled remains of what they believed was the Snow Dew Flower.
Edge's muttering halted, his eyes narrowing as he picked up the broken stem.
"What's this supposed to be?"
"Snow Dew Flower—or what's left of it," Wind replied quickly, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
Edge shook his head, his scowl deepening.
"No, this isn't a Snow Dew Flower."
He rose slowly, rummaging through a chaotic pile of scrolls on his bed before returning with one in hand. Activating it, he summoned holographic images of various plants, comparing them to the stem with meticulous care.
"Not this... not that..." he muttered, cycling through images until he froze, a spark of recognition in his eyes.
"Found it!"
Leaning back, he fixed them with a satisfied smirk.
"This is a Monstrous Trace Flower, one of the rarest and weakest plants in the Forbidden Garden."
"It mimics the Snow Dew Flower's behavior but is far less potent."
"It's a master of hiding—most stumble upon it by pure chance."
"Intact, it's worth 150 merit points. In this state? Thirty, at best."
Song and Wind exchanged stunned, elated glances, their earlier disappointment forgotten.
"You've earned sixty merit points, split evenly since you worked together," Edge continued.
"I'll send the report to the magistrate. Now, decide: trade the herbs to me or try your luck with the clans and sects?"
"We'll trade with you," Wind said instantly, his voice brimming with excitement.
As Edge waved his hand, their amulets glowed, registering the merit points. Song's heart sank slightly, the weight of his ambitions pressing down. The cost of entering the Great Library was a distant dream for someone like him. Obtaining a supreme cultivation method and a powerful combat skill had been a stroke of fortune—but the price he'd paid was steep, etched into his very bones.
Edge's voice cut through his thoughts.
"One last thing—stay out of the Forbidden Garden for a couple of days."
"A pack of Grayhide Wolves has been spotted—Sixth Lord-level beasts."
"You don't want to tangle with those."
They thanked the alchemist and stepped outside, the fresh air a welcome relief from the hut's stifling herbal scent. But as they parted ways, a chilling howl echoed through the twilight, raising the hairs on Song's neck. The Forbidden Garden was stirring, and something far more dangerous than a spirit flower was closing in...