Xiao Qing's sanctuary in the ruined greenhouse became Lin Tianyao's new laboratory. The defiant hope radiating from the single Sun-Petal Orchid was a persistent, low-grade irritant to his Soul Flame, like a splinter lodged deep beneath the skin. The Void-Sapphire flame, accustomed to the rich, dark sustenance of despair, initially recoiled from this pure, bright energy. But as the days turned into a week, then two, Mo Ye observed a fascinating adaptation. The flame began to learn, to metabolize this new fuel. It did not consume hope in the same way it devoured despair; instead, it seemed to use it as a whetstone, sharpening its own edge against the unyielding resilience of the orchid's glow. The process was uncomfortable, even painful at times, but he could feel his control refining, his spiritual perception becoming attuned to frequencies beyond the spectrum of negativity.
He continued his anonymous patronage with the precision of a master chemist dosing a volatile compound. He left a cracked but functional spirit-gathering formation disc near the orchid's pot, one that would amplify its growth just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be suspicious. He "rediscovered" a half-rotted manual on spiritual symbiosis in the archives and left it where she would find it. He was not just feeding her hope; he was guiding it, shaping the vessel before deciding whether to fill it or shatter it.
This delicate experiment was interrupted by a shift in the sect's wider political corpse. With the Zhao threat effectively neutralized and the Profound Heaven Sect's offer rejected, the remaining power players began to stir in the vacuum. The most prominent was Elder Song, a previously minor elder from the Logistics Division who had shrewdly conserved his resources during the war. While others bled their factions dry, Elder Song had hoarded spirit stones, preserved his disciples, and now emerged as the voice of "pragmatic recovery." His platform was simple: forget glory, forget vengeance; focus on survival.
Elder Song's rise was a variable Mo Ye had not fully anticipated. The man was not driven by pride like Luo Feng, nor by cautious dogma like Elder Wu. He was driven by a cold, calculating greed. He saw the crippled sect not as a legacy to uphold, but as an asset to be stripped and consolidated. This presented a new kind of danger. A greedy man was unpredictable. He might sell off sect secrets, or worse, discover Mo Ye's unique nature and seek to exploit it.
Mo Ye observed Elder Song's first move: a "comprehensive resource audit." Disciples from Elder Song's faction began meticulously cataloging everything—from the remaining spirit stones in the treasury to the yield of every herb garden, including the West Quadrant.
This brought the auditor to Mo Ye's domain. The disciple, a sharp-faced young man with the officious air of a petty bureaucrat, scrutinized the Spirit Moss and Luminous Roots with a dismissive sneer.
"Pitiful yields," the auditor muttered, making a note on his jade slate. "This quadrant is barely worth the spiritual energy spent to maintain it. Elder Song will be interested to know which resources are… underperforming."
The threat was clear. Underperforming assets would be reallocated or abandoned. The West Quadrant, and Mo Ye's position within it, was under direct scrutiny.
That evening, at the forge, the mood was grim. Old Man Bo spat into the fire. "That vulture Song. He'd sell the swords from our martyrs' hands if he thought he could get a spirit stone for them. He's not rebuilding the sect; he's building his own little kingdom from the rubble."
Li Na, sharpening a tool with methodical strokes, nodded. "His auditors are everywhere. Asking questions. Looking at ledgers. It's not an audit; it's a scavenger hunt."
Mo Ye listened, his mind working. Elder Song's greed was a threat, but it was also a tool. A greedy man had clear, exploitable motivations. He needed to turn this audit from a threat into an opportunity.
The next day, when the auditor returned, Mo Ye was ready. He approached the man, his posture the picture of a humble, concerned laborer.
"Honored Disciple," Mo Ye began, bowing slightly. "This one could not help but overhear your concerns about the quadrant's yield. The soil… it has been weak since the war. But recently, I've noticed something strange."
He led the auditor to a secluded corner of the quadrant, away from the main plots. There, he had transplanted a small, struggling patch of Spirit Moss from near the compost heaps. The moss was a sickly grey-green, but Mo Ye had spent the previous night carefully channeling a minute, controlled wisp of Soul Flame into the soil beneath it. The result was not health, but a false, desperate vitality. The moss glowed with an unnaturally bright, almost feverish green light.
"It started here," Mo Ye said, his voice filled with feigned awe. "This patch… it began to glow like this a few days ago. I don't know why. Perhaps a latent energy in the soil? A mutation?"
The auditor's eyes widened. He could feel the unusual spiritual fluctuation—a distorted, potent energy that felt nothing like the sect's pure wood-element qi. To his untrained senses, it didn't register as corruption; it registered as potential.
"Has anyone else seen this?" the auditor asked, his voice eager.
"No, Honored Disciple. Only me. I was… afraid to report it. I did not understand it."
The auditor made several notes on his jade slate, his earlier dismissiveness replaced by excitement. "You have done well to bring this to my attention. This could be significant. Do not speak of this to anyone else. This is now a matter for Elder Song's personal review."
As the auditor hurried away, Mo Ye allowed himself a cold, inward smile. He had not tried to hide the quadrant's poor performance. He had dangled a mystery in front of a greedy man. He had presented Elder Song not with a failing asset, but with a potential discovery. A secret. And for a man like Elder Song, a secret was a currency more valuable than spirit stones.
He had turned the auditor's scrutiny away from the quadrant's overall failure and towards a single, manufactured anomaly. He had bought time, and more importantly, he had potentially gained the attention of the sect's new power broker on his own terms. The gardener had not weeded out the threat; he had planted a new, more interesting seed in the path of the oncoming storm. The dilemma of what to do with Xiao Qing's hope remained, but for now, a more immediate game had begun.