There was no jade shovel.
Nor was there any profound explanation about "spirit power resonance," frequencies, or meridian combing.
Ah Yin simply extended her fair, jade-like finger and gently poked the golden petals of the Qi Rong Tong Tian Chrysanthemum.
"It glows," she said softly.
Her voice was light, like a breeze brushing past willow leaves.
As if responding to her words, the proud Immortal Chrysanthemum swayed gently, its petals trembling faintly as golden light shimmered across its surface.
Ah Yin smiled, her eyes curving into gentle crescent moons.
Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she extended her finger again and poked another Immortal Herb beside it—the Narcissus Jade Bone.
"You're very beautiful too."
The flower bud of the Narcissus Jade Bone quivered and seemed to shrink back slightly, as though embarrassed.
Dugu Bo: "..."
He stood there, staring blankly.
He watched as the Chief Gardener moved from one Immortal Herb to another, poking them one by one.
Sometimes she spoke to them softly, sometimes she hummed a tune that sounded ancient and unfamiliar, carrying a soothing rhythm.
The entire scene was tranquil, harmonious, and brimming with vitality.
It was also—
Completely incomprehensible.
What kind of operation was this?
A poke. A compliment. A hum.
And that counted as maintenance?
This was even more mysterious—and far more outrageous—than Chrysanthemum Douluo's "spirit power synchronization" theory!
At this moment, Dugu Bo finally realized a cruel truth.
He and these people… simply did not belong to the same world.
On one side stood the Academic Technical School, represented by Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ye Lingshuang—full of theory, analysis, and precise operational methods.
On another side stood the utterly unfathomable Metaphysical School, embodied by Ah Yin—no logic, no explanation, only vibes and miracles.
And then there was him.
Dugu Bo.
The Physical Labor School.
The kind that dug pits honestly and earnestly with a giant iron shovel.
No!
This absolutely would not do!
He, Dugu Bo, had been personally appointed by his senior as the Second-in-Command Gardener of Feng Ran Pavilion!
How could he be completely crushed by Juhua and a young girl?
How could he not even begin to understand the Chief Gardener's working principles?
If he didn't fight back now, where would his dignity as a Titled Douluo go?
Compete!
He had to compete!
Dugu Bo's eyes narrowed as resolve surged within him.
With a cautious glance around, he quietly took out a small notebook and a charcoal pencil from his spirit tool.
These were his treasures—items he once used to record countless poison formulas and research notes.
Now, they had a new and noble mission.
Dugu Bo cleared his throat, clasped his hands behind his back, and pretended to be a senior leader inspecting the workplace. With measured steps, he strolled back behind Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ye Lingshuang.
He opened the first page of the notebook.
In handwriting so neat that even he himself felt unfamiliar with it, he wrote down today's research title:
[A Manual on the Two Major Schools of Immortal Herb Maintenance and Practical Observation Notes — Top Secret, Compiled by Dugu Bo]
He paused, nodded in satisfaction, then continued writing.
[I. Tools: Gardening tools must be made of jade. Iron tools are crude, cheap, and may negatively affect an Immortal Herb's emotional state.]
He glanced down at his own shovel still hidden in his spirit tool and felt a sharp stab of pain.
[II. Techniques (Chrysanthemum Douluo & Ye Lingshuang School): Emphasis on "Spirit Power Resonance."]
[Note: The principles involved are excessively complex. Further inquiry required. Risk level: High. Asking questions may result in hostile glares. Proceed with caution.]
[III. Operational Method: Comb the meridians while adjusting spirit power frequency according to the Immortal Herb's "personality."]
[Example: Cockscomb Phoenix Sunflower — fiery temperament; requires an "explosive" frequency.]
He paused, frowning deeply.
[Addendum: What exactly constitutes an "explosive" frequency? Controlled detonation? Self-destruction? Further observation required.]
The more he wrote, the more uneasy he felt.
This didn't feel like studying horticulture anymore.
It felt like deciphering a long-lost divine scripture.
Dugu Bo exhaled slowly and decided to change research targets.
He closed the notebook, clasped his hands behind his back again, and ambled toward Ah Yin.
At this moment, Ah Yin was squatting in front of the Tears of Autumn Dew.
She raised her finger and casually drew a circle in the air.
A moment later, a crystal-clear droplet of dew slid down from the Immortal Herb's leaf and fell perfectly into the invisible circle she had drawn.
"So obedient," Ah Yin said with a gentle smile, her voice soft enough to melt hearts.
Dugu Bo's eyelids twitched violently.
What was this now?
Some kind of divine authority? Innate domain control? Or… did Immortal Herbs simply listen to her?
His throat went dry.
With trembling hands, he reopened his notebook and began to write:
[IV. Techniques (Chief Gardener Ah Yin School): Core Principle — Communication.]
[Method One: Poking.]
[Method Two: Talking.]
[Important Note: Tone must be gentle and soothing.]
[Method Three: Drawing Circles.]
[Speculative Note: Possibly a form of domain or higher-law manifestation. Entirely incomprehensible.]
[Additional Observation: Success rate extremely high when performed by the Chief Gardener. Strong correlation suspected with personal charm, temperament, and appearance. Further data collection required.]
After finishing this entry, Dugu Bo closed the notebook slowly.
He let out a long, exhausted sigh.
What kind of hellish workplace was this?
At this point, he seriously began to doubt his own life choices.
Meanwhile.
Far away, news from Spirit City finally reached the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect.
Or rather—
What returned was not intelligence.
It was a scandal.
A colossal, earth-shaking scandal that swept across the entire continent and utterly shattered the sect's reputation.
"Sect Master! Disaster—absolute disaster!"
A deacon responsible for external intelligence burst into the main hall, stumbling and nearly crawling, his face pale as paper and his entire body trembling.
"Something huge has happened in Spirit City!"
Inside the hall, several elders' eyelids twitched simultaneously.
On the main seat, Yu Yuanzhen calmly held his teacup, leisurely blowing away the floating tea leaves. He didn't even raise his eyes.
He let out a light chuckle, his tone carrying faint satisfaction.
"Why such panic?"
"Most likely, that woman Bibi Dong couldn't withstand the pressure and released that rebellious son."
"She only dares to play small, blustering tricks. Even if you gave her ten times the courage, she wouldn't dare—"
His words stopped abruptly.
Because the deacon had already fallen to his knees with a heavy thump, shaking like a sieve, his voice nearly breaking as he shouted:
"He wasn't released, Sect Master!"
"Yu Xiaogang… was publicly tried by Spirit Hall!"
"In Spirit Plaza!"
"Spirit Masters from across the entire continent were present!"
Clang!
The teacup slipped from Yu Yuanzhen's hand and shattered against the obsidian tabletop.
He snapped his head up, disbelief finally breaking through his deep, composed gaze.
"What did you say?!"
The deacon was so frightened he nearly screamed:
"The charge was the assassination attempt on the Supreme Pontiff!"
"The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School, the Heaven Dou Empire, and the Star Luo Empire all testified on the spot!"
"He was also publicly exposed—his so-called Ten Core Competencies of Spirit… were plagiarized from Spirit Hall!"
"And worse—what he plagiarized was wrong! It caused the deaths of countless common Spirit Masters!"
"Now… now the entire continent is cursing our Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect as liars! As thieves!"
"Yu Xiaogang… he was drowned in rotten vegetable leaves and smelly shoes by hundreds of thousands of people…"
Each word was like a heavy, invisible hammer, smashing down onto the hall.
Silence.
Deathly silence.
The deacon knelt there, trembling like a leaf in an autumn storm, while his every sentence landed like a brutal slap across the faces of everyone present.
On the main seat, Yu Yuanzhen remained frozen.
The composed dignity and smug confidence on his face cracked like brittle ice.
He tried—instinctively—to pull the corner of his mouth into a dismissive smile.
A smile that said this is nothing.
But his facial muscles refused to obey.
The teacup in his hand let out a strained creak.
Fine cracks spread instantly across its surface like a spider's web.
Then—
Bang!
The exquisite celadon cup was crushed into powder by his bare hand.