Chapter 124: The Emergency Transplant

It was a night ripe for mischief, perfect for thievery and arson.

Mu Qingli crouched low beneath the earth, only her sharp, thievish eyes peeking out.

Her gaze locked onto the direction of the Net Purification Pool.

The first step of her plan was to create chaos.

A mischievous grin spread across her small face, and with two tiny fingers, she pressed lightly against the ground.

“Little ones, rise and shine!”

At her command, the wood spirit energy within the earth veins surged, boiling as if injected with an exhilarating stimulant.

Outside the Penglai Immortal Palace, in the perimeter herb garden, a disciple named Zhang Qing was on night patrol, yawning idly. The night was windless, utterly silent, and even the chirping of insects carried a sense of profound peace.

Suddenly—

“Buzz, buzz, buzz!”

A strange, humming sound erupted from the ground beneath her feet.

Zhang Qing froze, bewildered. Before she could react, a ‘Calm Heart Orchid’ nearby, usually as docile as a well-bred maiden, suddenly sprang to life.

Its petals dramatically unfurled, revealing countless tooth-like stamens within.

“Pfft!” A stream of green, sticky liquid precisely splattered across the face of Wang Ling, another patrolling disciple.

“Ah! What is this?!” Wang Ling shrieked, wiping her face. It felt both sticky and foul.

But it wasn’t over!

“Bang! Bang! Bang!” The ‘Exploding Fruits’ cultivated as ornamental plants in the garden detonated one after another, like firecrackers with lit fuses.

Red juice splattered everywhere, making the scene resemble a chaotic tomato sauce fight.

“Enemy attack! We’re under attack!”

“Is it a demonic beast? How could a demonic beast infiltrate the herb garden so silently?”

The entire herb garden instantly devolved into utter pandemonium.

Meanwhile, Mu Qingli, the orchestrator of this chaos, remained deep underground, concealing deeds and fame.

As she directed the plants in their wild ‘disco,’ she couldn’t help but offer professional commentary.

“The Calm Heart Orchid’s spray angle is all wrong. At least thirty percent of its effective attack range was wasted. Poor performance.”

“The Exploding Fruits detonated too sporadically; there was no chain reaction. Insufficient firepower. And that one over there…

What? I told you to tie someone up, not give that female disciple a foot massage! Your operational skills are abysmal. All of you, go write self-criticism reports!”

Mu Qingli felt a pang of anguish, as if she were leading a team of utterly incompetent allies.

Still, the desired effect had been achieved.

While all the guards were distracted by the ‘plant uprising,’ her form flickered, and she silently burrowed into the ground beneath the building housing the Net Purification Pool.

The Net Purification Pool was less a pool and more a massive medicinal bath chamber.

Crafted entirely from millennium-old cold jade, its four walls were carved with runes designed to gather yin and cold energy. The air was thick with a potent, pungent medicinal smell—cold, bitter, and laced with a faint, elusive hint of blood.

Mu Qingli poked her head out from under the floor, immediately pinching her nose in disgust.

“Ugh… what a dreadful smell! How is this any different from a cesspool?”

In her opinion, this was nothing short of a public execution for her beloved ‘owner’s’ feeding time.

Her gaze swiftly swept across the entire medicinal bath chamber.

Soon, in the massive white jade bathtub at the center of the room, she spotted the familiar figure.

Shen Zhaoqing lay motionless in the dark green medicinal liquid, only her pale neck and bloodless face visible.

Her long black hair fanned out like seaweed in the liquid. Her once vibrant and cunning almond eyes were now tightly shut, long lashes beaded with cold medicinal droplets.

Her breathing was so faint it was almost imperceptible, her chest utterly still.

If not for the ‘Dao Source’ aura, which brought Mu Qingli immense comfort, she would have believed this was already a cold corpse.

Boundless fury flared up once more!

‘Look, just look! These damned alchemists, what have they done to my fresh, vibrant potted plant?!’

She could not wait any longer!

An emergency ‘transplant’ had to be performed immediately.

Without another word, Mu Qingli pulled out the shovel from behind her, a tool almost as tall as she was.

*Clang—! *

For a professional gardener, what is the correct procedure when encountering a rare, dying plant?

Naturally, it’s to dig it up, roots and all, and re-pot it.

Mu Qingli dashed to the side of the bathtub, raising her gleaming, sturdy iron shovel toward Shen Zhaoqing, who was submerged in the medicinal liquid.

Her eyes were focused and reverent, as if she were not looking at a person, but examining a priceless treasure.

“Don’t be afraid, Owner. I’m going to ‘dig’ you out of this awful pool right now!”

With that, she found an angle and carefully inserted the shovel’s blade into the gap between Shen Zhaoqing’s waist and the tub wall.

Then, gripping the handle with both small hands, her face flushed red with effort, she gave a mighty heave upwards.

“Heave—ho!”

With a splash, Shen Zhaoqing, chilled to the bone and completely numb, was scooped out of the bathtub as easily as one might scoop a potato.

The entire process was fluid and seamless.

If any other gardeners had been present, they would surely have applauded her exquisite ‘seedling extraction’ technique.

After being scooped out, Shen Zhaoqing slumped limply onto the ground, the dark green medicinal liquid trailing from her moon-white cultivation robe.

Her eyes remained tightly closed, unresponsive to anything external.

Mu Qingli tossed aside the shovel, squatted down, and poked Shen Zhaoqing’s pale cheek with a finger.

It was icy cold, devoid of any warmth.

She then leaned closer, sniffing vigorously at Shen Zhaoqing’s neck like a small dog.

Hmm, the scent was still the same—rich and sweet. It was indeed top-grade spirit soil; only the appearance was severely lacking.

“Tsk, you’ve wasted away to nothing.” Mu Qingli pouted distastefully. “These wasteful women clearly didn’t ‘fertilize’ you properly.”

What are the key factors for a plant’s healthy growth? Soil, water, sunlight, and fertilizer.

Especially fertilizer.

For the Jianmu Spirit Race, there was no problem that a bag of top-grade fertilizer couldn’t solve.

If there was, then two bags!

Mu Qingli made a decisive decision: she would immediately provide an emergency nutritional supplement to her severely ‘malnourished’ potted plant. She patted the enormous Qiankun Pinecone hanging around her neck, murmuring incantations.

A flash of spiritual light emanated from the pinecone, and a small storage space opened. Mu Qingli reached her small hand inside, rummaging through its contents.

“No, number one spirit soil won’t do; it’s too gentle and slow-acting. Number two spirit spring won’t work either; what she needs now is ‘solid nourishment.'”

“Aha, found it!”

Mu Qingli’s eyes lit up. She pulled out a large, dark, sticky lump from the pinecone, exuding an indescribably peculiar ‘fragrance’—a lump of… mud?

This ‘mud,’ about half the size of a fist, was pitch black, its surface shimmering with golden flecks.

It even resembled some kind of animal’s excrement.

Yet, the spiritual energy it emitted was so dense it was almost tangible.

The moment it was brought out, the spiritual energy concentration in the entire medicinal bath chamber instantly increased by thirty percent.

This was Dragon Dung Spirit Soil, a treasure Mu Qingli had cherished for years, her ultimate hidden gem.

Legend had it that it was the excrement of an ancient true dragon, mixed with ten-thousand-year-old stalactite spirit liquid, and then calcined by earth vein fire for eighty-one days to form this supreme treasure.

An ordinary cultivator could extend their lifespan by a century and greatly increase their cultivation simply by chipping off a fingernail-sized piece.

Now, Mu Qingli intended to feed this entire large piece to her owner. There was no other way; after all, Shen Zhaoqing was her ‘private property.’

“Come, Owner, open wide! Time to eat!”

Mu Qingli held the dark lump of Dragon Dung Spirit Soil in one hand and pinched Shen Zhaoqing’s chin with the other, ready to stuff this ‘ultimate tonic meal’ into her mouth.

How to describe this scene? It was both absurd and possessed a strange, unsettling warmth.

That is, if one ignored the origin of the mud and Shen Zhaoqing’s utterly resigned face.

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