Morning sunlight streamed into the lower ground of Hǎiyáng's modest home, illuminating the map sprawled across his wooden table. Faint lines drawn by Lù Wěi carved out possible paths forward, but the map seemed more like a maze than a guide.
BǎoBǎo entered the room, his movements elegant despite the bulk of his protector form. His sharp amber eyes immediately landed on Hǎiyáng's troubled expression. "You look like a boy staring at a mountain, my lord."
Hǎiyáng sighed, glancing up. "It feels like one. This Beast Master Certification… it's not just about taming beasts. It's about proving myself in a way I've never done before."
BǎoBǎo nodded, his expression growing serious. "True. It's not enough to show your bond with me. They'll test your ability to heal, sustain, and even repel beasts in critical situations. You'll need herbs—herbs that speak of knowledge and preparation."
Hǎiyáng straightened. "What kind of herbs?"
"There are five essential ones," BǎoBǎo began, his tone shifting to that of a teacher. "Each one serves a purpose, and their potency depends on their age. The older the herb, the stronger its effect."
"What are they?" Hǎiyáng asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
BǎoBǎo raised a claw and began counting off, his voice steady.
"First, Zhìyù Cǎo. This is your foundation—a healing herb for minor wounds. A ten-year-old plant will do, but if you can find one older, its effects will be more profound."
Hǎiyáng nodded thoughtfully. "And the second?"
"First, Zhìyù Cǎo. This is your foundation—a healing herb for minor wounds. A ten-year-old plant will do, but if you can find one older, its effects will be more profound."
"That sounds harder to find," Hǎiyáng murmured.
BǎoBǎo's lips curved into a faint smirk. "You haven't heard the half of it. Next is Jīnglì Guǒ, the stamina-boosting fruit. A thirty-year-old fruit will make you feel like you've never tired in your life. Even beasts respect its revitalizing power."
Hǎiyáng's interest deepened. "What about the fourth?
""Yǐnqǐ Xiāng," BǎoBǎo said, his tone dipping into warning. "Aromatic herbs that attract specific beasts—or repel the ones you don't want. You'll need a fifty-year-old plant to ensure its effects are reliable. Anything less is a gamble."
Hǎiyáng's eyes widened. "That could be useful in so many ways."
"Indeed," BǎoBǎo said, his gaze sharpening. "Finally, the most crucial: Dú Mián Zhī. A detoxifying herb that can counter poisons and venoms. If you can find a hundred-year-old branch, it will cure even the deadliest of toxins. This one might be your hardest challenge."
Hǎiyáng exhaled slowly, his mind racing. "How am I supposed to gather all of these before the exam?"
BǎoBǎo's smirk returned, though it was tempered by a glint of determination. "One step at a time, my lord. The world around you has more to offer than you realize.
The sun had barely risen when Hǎiyáng set out, his satchel empty and his heart resolute. His first stop was an herb shop near the outskirts of Snow Water City, where the sharp tang of dried plants hung heavy in the air.
The shopkeeper, a thin man with a wispy beard, greeted him with a curious look. "What brings you here, young man?"
"I'm looking for herbs," Hǎiyáng said, reciting the names of the first three on his list.
The shopkeeper chuckled. "A young one like you looking for such rare plants? You've got ambition, I'll give you that. I can sell you a ten-year-old Zhìyù Cǎo and a twenty-year-old Jīnglì Guǒ, but the rest… You'll have to find them yourself."
Hǎiyáng paid for the herbs, the silver coins clinking softly as they hit the counter. "Thank you," he said, bowing slightly before leaving the shop.
A Search Through Snow Water Zone
The riverbank outside the city shimmered under the midday sun, the water's surface reflecting light like a mirror. Hǎiyáng knelt by the shore, scanning the underbrush for the lavender blossoms of Yǐnqǐ Xiāng.
The first patch he found was too young—the stems were thin, and the fragrance weak. Frustration bubbled in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. Hours passed as he scoured the riverbank, and just as he was ready to give up, he spotted it: a cluster of fifty-year-old plants, their petals vibrant and their scent intoxicating.
"Finally," he murmured, carefully harvesting the herbs.
His next destination was a secluded lake deep in the forest, where Dú Mián Zhī was said to grow. The trek was long and tiring, the dense foliage clawing at his clothes and slowing his progress.
By the time he reached the lake, his legs ached and his stomach growled, but the sight of the shimmering water lifted his spirits. He searched the trees along the shore, his fingers running over the rough bark.
It wasn't until dusk that he found it—a low-hanging branch with dark green leaves, its age evident in the thickness of its stem. "A hundred years old," he whispered, marveling at his luck. He broke off a few branches, careful not to damage the plant.
The final challenge awaited him: Nèi Xiū Gēn, the twisted root buried deep in the frozen soil of the Snow Mountains. Hǎiyáng began his ascent before dawn, the biting wind stinging his face as he climbed higher.
The Snow Mountain's Secret Treasure
The journey was grueling, his breaths growing shorter as the air thinned. Snow crunched beneath his boots, and the cold seeped into his bones. He scanned the ground, searching for signs of the root.
Hours passed, his body screaming for rest, but he refused to stop. Finally, near the base of a gnarled tree, he spotted it: a cluster of roots twisted into an intricate knot. Its dark surface glistened with frost, a testament to its age and resilience.
Hǎiyáng dropped to his knees, his fingers trembling as he dug it out. "Fifty years old," he said with a shaky breath, a mixture of relief and pride washing over him.
Though exhausted, Hǎiyáng pushed onward to the summit, where he hoped to find the legendary Bái Xuě Lián.
The climb was treacherous, the path steep and icy. He slipped more than once, his hands raw from gripping the frozen rocks.
When he finally reached the top, the sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, the sun dipping below the horizon. There, nestled among the jagged stones, was the snow lotus. Its petals glowed faintly in the fading light, a beacon of purity and resilience.
Hǎiyáng knelt before it, his chest tight with emotion. Carefully, he plucked the lotus and cradled it in his hands. "This is it," he whispered. "The final piece."
Back at home, Hǎiyáng laid out his collection of herbs on the table. Each one told a story of struggle and perseverance, a testament to his dedication.
BǎoBǎo examined them with a critical eye, his expression softening into approval. "Well done, my lord. These herbs will not only aid you in the exam—they're proof that you're ready for this journey."
Hǎiyáng nodded, his heart swelling with determination. The path ahead was still uncertain, but he knew one thing for sure: he would face it head-on, no matter the cost.
------------------------------------End of Chapter 6--------------------------------