Mingzhi slipped back into the hut, his chest heaving, his clothes heavy with the soil of the Wang garden.

  His parents were waiting up. The oil lamp flickered low, casting long shadows on their worried faces.

  "Mingzhi!" His mother stood up, rushing over to check him for injuries. "Where have you been all day? We were terrified. Did the Wangs..."

  "I'm fine," Mingzhi said, forcing a calm he didn't feel into his voice. "I just needed to clear my head. I walked by the river. I... I was emptying my mind. Trying to understand where I went wrong."

  His father, Dazhu, looked at him with sad, tired eyes. "Son, you don't have to force it. If the manual didn't work..."

  "It will work," Mingzhi said firmly. "I just need to try a different method. Please, go to sleep. I need to focus."

  He retreated into his small room and barred the door.

  His hands shook as he began to empty his pockets onto the straw pallet. The haul was staggering. The Spirit had guided him deeper and deeper into the fracture, and the density of the loot proved it.

  He sorted them into piles.

  Five Low-Grade Spirit Stones.

  Seven Mid-Grade Spirit Stones.

  And thirteen High-Grade Spirit Stones—stones so dense with Earth Qi they felt like lead weights in his hand.

  But those were just the stones. Beside them, he placed the true prize:

  Eleven Spirit Crystals.

  These weren't dull rocks; they were translucent, faceted gems the color of dark honey. They hummed with a vibration that made the dust on the floor dance.

  "This..." Mingzhi whispered, staring at the pile. "This isn't just a fortune. This is enough to buy the entire village."

  "Mingzhi," the Spirit’s voice echoed, hushed and respectful. "The quantity is... unexpected. With this volume of energy, we do not need to scrape for a Low-Quality Seed. We can flood the system."

  "Good," Mingzhi said. "Then teach me. The Earth Root Scripture my father bought is trash. You said you have thousands of techniques. Give me the best Earth manual you have."

  The necklace hummed.

  "I am searching through the Earth Archives... filtering for compatibility... I found a matching technique."

  "Technique: 'The Mountain-Anchor Scripture'. Origin: The Titan Sect of the Northern Wastes. It prioritizes density and stability over speed. It does not flow like a river; it settles like a mountain. For a constitution that leaks, this heaviness is ideal."

  Mingzhi closed his eyes, letting the Spirit transfer the mnemonic chant into his mind. The information flowed in—complex breathing patterns, visualization of tectonic plates, the feeling of gravity.

  He prepared to sit on his bed to begin.

  "Wait," the Spirit interrupted. "I detect a logical error in your positioning."

  Mingzhi paused. "My positioning? I'm sitting in the lotus position."

  "You are sitting on wood," the Spirit stated, sounding like a scholar pointing out a math error. "And beneath the wood is air space. You are attempting to cultivate Earth Qi. Where is the Earth Qi densest?"

  Mingzhi blinked. "In the ground."

  "Precisely. The ambient Earth Qi in the air is thin. But the soil itself... it is a reservoir. If you wish to gather Earth Qi efficiently, you should not be separated from it. You should be touching it."

  Mingzhi looked at the floorboards. "You mean I should go outside?"

  "I suggest the 'Yongquan' points on the soles of your feet. If you place them directly against the soil, the earth becomes an extension of your meridians. The intake speed will increase significantly."

  Mingzhi grabbed the pile of stones and crystals. "If I'm going to do this, I'm doing it right."

  He unbarred the door. His parents stirred.

  "Mingzhi?" his father mumbled.

  "I'm just going to check the irrigation field, Father," Mingzhi whispered. "The wind picked up. I want to make sure the channels are clear."

  "Be careful," Dazhu murmured, too tired to argue.

  Mingzhi walked out into the night. He didn't go far, just to the edge of the Xie family fields where the soil was firmest.

  "Here," the Spirit guided. "This spot. The clay is dense. The resonance is good."

  Mingzhi kicked off his worn shoes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if any great cultivator in history had started barefoot in a cabbage field. It felt grounding. Solid.

  "Okay," Mingzhi said. "Let's set the array."

  He looked at his loot.

  "We use everything," Mingzhi decided. "I'm not taking chances."

  He kept two Spirit Crystals for later, tucking them into his sash.

  He arranged the nine remaining Spirit Crystals in a tight inner circle around his sitting spot. Then, he placed the thirteen High-Grade Stones and seven Mid-Grade Stones in a complex outer ring.

  "The Nine-Point Earth Gathering Array," the Spirit observed, its voice trembling slightly at the sheer waste of wealth. "This is... aggressive. If any Earth cultivator witnessed this,” the Spirit added, “they would either kneel in reverence or attempt to kill you. The pressure this will generate is enough to crush a mortal. Are you certain?"

  "My body is a sieve," Mingzhi said grimly. "If I want to fill a sieve, I don't need a faucet. I need a waterfall."

  He sat in the dirt, surrounded by a fortune in spiritual wealth.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Spirit," Mingzhi whispered. "Before I start... tell me the mechanics of the failure yesterday. I need to be sure we are solving the right problem."

  "It is a matter of Refinement Speed versus Volatility," the Spirit explained. "Wild Qi seeks to return to nature. As you pull it into your porous meridians, it begins to dissipate immediately. It evaporates before it can reach the Dantian to be compressed."

  Mingzhi nodded. "Like trying to make a ball out of water. I pour the water into my hand, but before I can close my fingers to shape it, it flows away."

  "A correct analogy," the Spirit agreed. "You lack the speed to 'close your fingers' before the water escapes."

  "Then you have to be the cup," Mingzhi said. "Your Divine Sense. You wrap the water. You hold it in a sphere so it can't run away. And while you hold it... I freeze it."

  "I will act as the containment field," the Spirit promised. "I will wrap your meridians and your Dantian in my will. I will force the volatility close to zero. But you must provide the compression. I can hold the cup, Mingzhi, but you must fill it."

  "I'll fill it," Mingzhi said, gritting his teeth.

  "Activate."

  Mingzhi triggered the array.

  HUM.

  The ground beneath him seemed to wake up. The nine Crystals flared with blinding yellow light. The Stones began to vibrate, their solid forms melting into streaks of pure energy.

  This wasn't a trickle. This was a flood.

  Heavy, dense Earth Qi surged up through the soles of his feet. It roared into his leg meridians like liquid mud.

  It hurt. It felt like his veins were being stuffed with gravel. The sheer volume was terrifying.

  "It is trying to dissipate!" the Spirit warned. "Using Divine Sense Mold!"

  Mingzhi felt a sudden, cold pressure clamp down on his entire body. It felt like being wrapped in tight bandages of invisible steel. The Spirit’s mind coated his meridians, sealing the pores.

  The Earth Qi, denied its escape route, slammed upward. It rushed into his Dantian.

  "Compress!" Mingzhi screamed in his mind.

  He used the Mountain-Anchor Scripture. He visualized his Dantian as a compactor. He crushed the swirling yellow mist.

  It turned to liquid. Heavy, sluggish gold.

  "The Seed is forming!" the Spirit urged. "It is Low Quality. You can stop now if you want!"

  "No," Mingzhi thought, feeling the immense power of the Crystals still flowing. "We have resources. I'm not stopping at 'Low'."

  He kept pulling. The stones outside were turning to dust, their energy consumed. The pressure in his Dantian rose. The liquid became thick syrup. Then, it became like wet clay.

  His Dantian began to ache. It felt like he had swallowed a cannonball.

  "Watch out," the Spirit said, its voice tight with strain. "Internal pressure is reaching critical levels. Your containment is straining my Divine Sense. If you continue, the backlash could shatter your vessel."

  "Hold it!" Mingzhi roared silently. "Just a little more! Compress it harder!"

  He didn't just want a seed. He wanted a diamond.

  He poured more Qi in. The clay turned hard. It began to spin.

  His nose started to bleed. The capillaries in his eyes burst, turning his vision red. The pain was blinding, a white-hot spike driving into his gut as his physical body reached its absolute breaking point.

  "Spirit, I'm at my limit, release it!" Mingzhi gasped, his mental voice cracking under the strain. "It has to be enough!"

  "Not yet!" the Spirit shouted back, its voice losing all traces of the dry scholar, replaced by the fierce urgency of a master forging a weapon. "It is still rough! Polish it! I can still support the mold! Do not let go!"

  Mingzhi gritted his teeth, trusting the voice in his head over the screaming of his own nerves. He held on.

  He held on past the point where his instinct screamed to flee. He held on as the Spirit poured every ounce of its recovering Divine Sense into the containment field, reinforcing the walls against the crushing pressure.

  They held on together until the very last grain of energy from the Crystals was sucked dry.

  CRACK.

  The vibration stopped. The chaos vanished.

  In his Dantian, there was no longer a ball of mud. There was a perfectly spherical, golden-brown pearl. It was large—filling nearly half his Dantian—and it felt infinitely heavy. It didn't just sit there; it hummed with its own gravity.

  "Release," the Spirit whispered, sounding utterly exhausted, its light dimming to a flicker.

  The Divine Sense Mold vanished. The nine Crystals shattered into dust.Mingzhi slumped forward into the dirt. He felt completely hollowed out. His head pounded, his body shook, and his Dantian felt numb.

  I pushed too hard, he thought dizzily. I probably broke it. It feels... dead.

  "I... must rest," the Spirit’s voice faded to a whisper. "I exhausted my mental energy, reserves depleted. I need to enter deep sleep to regenerate..."

  The connection went silent.

  Mingzhi lay in the cold field, staring at the pile of gray dust that used to be a fortune. "I failed again," he mumbled, misinterpreting the numbness for emptiness. "It's quiet. I broke it..."

  He dragged himself up. He was barefoot, covered in dirt and blood, shivering. He stumbled back to the hut, crawled into his room, and collapsed onto his bed without even undressing. Darkness took him instantly.

  Sunlight hit Mingzhi’s face.

  He woke with a start, sitting bolt upright. He expected pain. He expected the heavy fatigue that usually greeted him in the morning.

  Instead, he felt... solid.

  He swung his legs out of bed. His feet hit the floor. Thud. It sounded different. He felt anchored.

  He looked inside. He checked his Dantian.

  Floating in the center of his being was the Golden-Brown Pearl. It wasn't dust. It wasn't a loose ball of mud. It was a perfect, spinning sphere of condensed Earth.

  "Good morning, Mingzhi."

  The Spirit’s voice returned, sounding clearer than before.

  "Spirit," Mingzhi whispered. "Is it... is it okay? I thought I broke it."

  "Broke it?" The Spirit sounded almost offended on his behalf. "Mingzhi, please observe the surface texture. It is smooth. It is luminous. That is not a Low-Quality Seed."

  "You held the pressure for twelve seconds past the critical point," the Spirit explained, a note of awe in its voice. "You consumed enough energy to fuel a lower rank breakthrough just to form a Seed. That is a Perfect-Grade Earth Seed. It is the foundation of an Emperor."

  Mingzhi stared at his hands. Perfect Grade.

  Tears pricked his eyes. Not from pain, but from the sudden release of a year’s worth of shame. He buried his face in his hands.

  "I did it," he choked out. "We did it."

  He rubbed the necklace through his shirt. "You... you are the best. I couldn't have done this without you. You saved my life."

  The Spirit fell silent for a moment. Then, a warm, golden feeling radiated from the necklace into Mingzhi’s chest. It was a clumsy, unfamiliar emotion—pride.

  "I merely provided the mold," the Spirit said softly. "You provided the will. You are... a capable Master."

  Mingzhi wiped his eyes, grinning like a fool. "So, can I cultivate now? Can I start the Cloud Gathering stage?"

  "First you have to make the seed sprout by nourishing it with qi,then you could," the Spirit said. "But I advise patience. A Perfect Seed is rare. Before we sprout the tree, I have a technique in the Compendium... 'The Laminar Layering Method'. We can fuse additional layers onto the Seed to reinforce the shell before growth."

  "Layering?"

  "Think of it as adding rings to a tree before it grows. But you must be careful. If you layer it too thick, it might never crack open or burst from the pressure."

  "I'll take the risk," Mingzhi said, clenching his fist. He felt strong. He felt ready.

  He burst out of his room.

  His parents were at the table, looking grim. They stopped when they saw him. They saw the dirt on his face, but they also saw the light in his eyes.

  "Mingzhi?" his mother asked fearfully.

  "I did it," Mingzhi said. He didn't shout. He just stated it. He tapped his chest. "It’s here. I formed the Seed."

  Dazhu dropped his spoon. "Truly?"

  "Truly. The Earth Root Scripture... it just took time to settle."

  Li Mei let out a sob and ran to him, hugging him tight. Dazhu stood up, his broad shoulders shaking with relief. "Good. Good. The ancestors are watching."

  A knock came at the door.

  The door creaked open. It was Chen Rou. She looked pale, clutching her blue book.

  She saw the scene—Li Mei crying, Dazhu beaming, Mingzhi standing tall.

  "Ming'er?" she asked, stepping inside. "Why... why is everyone happy?"

  "He did it," Li Mei cried, wiping her eyes. "He formed the Seed! Our Mingzhi is a cultivator!"

  Rou’s eyes widened. She dropped the book on the table and threw her arms around Mingzhi, burying her face in his shoulder. "I knew it! I knew you could do it!"

  Mingzhi hugged her back, wincing slightly as she squeezed his bruised ribs. "I told you I had a plan."

  "The Sect Selection," Dazhu said, his voice full of hope. "It’s in eleven months. The requirement is Cloud Gathering Rank 1. If you have the Seed now... you can make it."

  "We'll both make it," Mingzhi said, looking at Rou.

  He gently pulled back. Rou looked up at him, her smile fading slightly.

  "I tried last night," she whispered, so only he could hear. "I failed, Ming'er. It was too fast. I couldn't hold it."

  Mingzhi smiled. He felt the heavy, stable thrum of his Earth Seed. It was solid enough to anchor a mountain.

  "Don't worry," he said. "Your water is too fast. My earth is heavy. I can help you control it."

  He grabbed her hand. "Come on. Let's go form your seed."