The system's trials were rarely gentle. They came like riddles wrapped in chores: a cleaning of the heart disguised as a trial, a test of patience doubling as a trap. When the Trial of the Seedbed arrived, it came with the scent of old loam and the creak of roots under strain.
In the hollow behind the willow lay a patch of earth marked by runes that had never fully died — a small triangle of ground where older powers lingered. The system declared it the Seedbed: "Nurture a dormant ancient seed. If it awakens, it will attune to your Dao Seed and reveal truths about your path."
Qingmu, whose patience often lasted as long as the interest of a kitten, toddled into the hollow and sat cross-legged, watching the dirt. He poked at the rune with a finger. The rune glowed faintly, like an eye opening.
Liu Shen taught him to listen. "Leave offerings," she whispered, "but not of food. Offer your presence. Put a laugh into the wind. Let hope sit there like a small bird."
Qingmu did as instructed, which meant he sang nonsense at the seed. But nonsense is not useless; it carries the rhythm of heartbeats, the steady thump of simple trust. He hummed, clapped, and at one point, fell asleep with his forehead resting on the earth.
By noon the seed had stirred. Roots unfurled like old script. A tiny shoot broke the surface and reached for sky. The shoot was not green: it shimmered with a translucence like glass warmed in sun. When it opened, the petals flashed with something like memory.
The system's tone grew solemn.
[Trial Clear. Reward: Green Perception (enhanced). Passive Upgraded: Sense the pathlines of sentient growth. New Ability: Seed Whisper — call to plant life to reveal hidden passage and ancient memories.]
Qingmu's eyes widened. The seed quivered and a whisper threaded into his mind — not a full voice but a story-intrusion, showing an image of a woman with willow hair and hands spread wide across a field. He recognized the shape without understanding the name.
Liu Shen's leaves sighed. "Seeds tell what they can when treated with patience. Keep it safe. This is older than most laws."
Word of the trial's success spread. A minor blessing of respect dripped like honey into the villagers' dealings: traders began to bring better seeds, and the schoolmaster used the Seedbed to instruct the children in respectful tending. The Seedbed, small and fragile, became a center of learning.
Bai'e the wolf padded along the perimeter and nosed the shoot with reverence. Even the silver beast seemed to bow before a life that had chosen to wake from rest. Qingmu reached to stroke the shoot and it leaned toward his hand like a living thing delighted by touch.
The system logged the day with a gentle conclusion: this little ritual had pointed toward the first significant truth — Qingmu's Lineage was not only a fisher of blessings but a weaver of fields. The pathlines it revealed would be long and crooked, but threaded with green.
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