WDMJST 19

Chapter 19

Curious Item — The Flower of Sorrow

In Su Ling’er’s palm lay a dull, lifeless seed.

“This item is rather special,”

A messy-haired man leaned in close, his hoarse voice whispering by her ear.

“It must be awakened using your essence blood.”

Essence blood?

He wants my essence blood?!

Feeding this demonic plant requires my own blood?!

Su Ling’er’s heart blared with alarm bells.

“Come, give me your hand.”

A dirt-stained hand grabbed her wrist with a strength that brooked no resistance.

She watched in horror as Shen Nong pulled out a silver needle.

“Don’t be afraid—just a prick.”

A cold touch brushed her fingertip, followed by a sharp sting.

A drop of crimson welled up. Shen Nong took her hand, buried the seed into a pot of dark soil, and pressed her finger toward it.

Drip.

The blood fell, seeping instantly into the black earth and vanishing without a trace.

They waited for a while…

…Nothing?

Did it fail?

Suddenly—!

The pot began to tremble and stir. The soil churned, and a tender sprout broke through the surface, growing at a speed visible to the naked eye.

It had a single twisted main vine, two side branches curling outward, and soon it reached half a foot in height.

At the top of the vine bloomed a dim, ghostly blue flower.

And within its stamen—there was a faint outline of eyes, a nose, and a mouth.

It was… a face.

A face filled with terror, sorrow, and confusion—one that looked remarkably similar to Su Ling’er’s own.

Shen Nong studied the strange plant with a glimmer in his eye. A [Spiritual Plant Appraisal] flashed from his fingertips, and he nodded with satisfaction.

[Curious Item: Flower of Sorrow (Immature)]
Quality: ???
Type: Companion Spirit Plant
Bound: Linked to “Su Ling’er” by essence blood
Description: Born of its master’s blood, feeding on her sorrows, mirroring her visage.
When it blooms fully, it will produce unexpected effects.
Current State: Seedling
Growth Requirement: Absorbs host’s negative emotions (fear, anxiety, grief, despair…)

“This flower,” Shen Nong explained,
“takes your blood as its guide and your spirit as its shape.
The deeper your sorrows, the stronger it will grow.

This ‘Flower of Sorrow’ is yours now—it’s born from your blood anyway.”

He clapped the dirt off his hands and strode away without looking back, disappearing once more into his fields.

Gone?

Just like that?!

He gave me this creepy “Flower of Sorrow” and left?!

Su Ling’er stood frozen in place.

The valley wind carried the scent of grass and soil—but she smelled nothing. Her mind was filled with nothing but giant question marks.

She looked down at the tiny vine wearing her own miserable face.

It swayed gently in the breeze, its two thin branches drooping weakly, and on top, the dark-outlined face mirrored her exact confusion and helplessness.

Su Ling’er stared at it as though looking into a mirror.

Small. Pitiful. Fragile. Powerless.

And yet, the flower carried a strange sense of fate—almost like a curse.

A shackle?

Her thoughts raced wildly.

“Born of my blood, shaped by my spirit…”

Could this be… my double?

Like the parasitic spirit bug that the sect master gave me—a link of shared life and death?

If it’s harmed, will I be harmed too?

Or worse?

If some clueless disciple walks by and plucks a vine—will my arm break with it?

If someone steps on it out of spite—will my head explode?!

The sect master’s spirit bug only caused soul shock upon death…

But this thing—what would happen if it gets injured or destroyed?

Why didn’t he explain properly before leaving?!

She wanted nothing more than to hurl this thing off a cliff.

But she didn’t dare.

It was bound to her essence blood.

If she threw it away, she might be throwing away her own life.

And it feeds on sorrow…

Does that mean—the more frightened, pained, or hopeless I feel, the better it grows?

Truly a demonic sect’s twisted creation!

But what should I even do with you?

Su Ling’er looked at the gloomy little thing, on the verge of tears.

You miserable creature… besides bringing me bad luck, can you even do anything else?

Do I water you?

Feed you fertilizer?

And what kind—grain powder… or the flesh and blood of senior brothers?

She shuddered.

“Junior Sister, just don’t worry about it—keep it with you,”

Lin Qingfeng’s voice came from behind. He had just used an appraisal spell himself.

“If you take care of it, it’ll probably be very useful later.
Just water it normally.
And, well… maybe if you stay gloomy, it’ll grow faster?”

That mysterious Shen Nong—always speaking in riddles and running off before explaining anything.

Oh well. At least it won’t kill her… hopefully.

Su Ling’er carefully cradled the pot in her arms, stiffly following behind her senior brother.

Each step was cautious, terrified that if anything happened to this strange little “ancestor,” her own head would go boom.

Just then, a disciple came walking toward them, beaming with joy and holding a handful of fine black soil as if it were treasure.

The soil looked exactly like what filled her flowerpot.

“Junior Sister, see that black soil?” Lin Qingfeng pointed.
“That’s the same as what’s in your pot—called Human Essence Soil.
It’s the highest-grade spirit soil our sect possesses.

Shen Nong even used such precious soil—along with this rare Flower of Sorrow—to gift you. Others have to pay spirit stones just for a handful of that soil!

So don’t be fooled by his eccentricity—he’s actually a good person.
Get used to him; maybe he’ll gift you more good things in the future.”

But Su Ling’er only heard three words—“Human Essence Soil.”

Her whole body froze.

Images surged unbidden through her mind:

A pit of blood and flesh—countless cultivators’ blood, bones, and souls crushed and mixed by a vile force, ground together into primal nutrients, then kneaded into rich black soil.

Refined… into this!

So this soil is made from human blood and souls?!

A wave of nausea hit her, nearly making her throw the pot away—but she forced it down.

Knowing what she did about this demonic sect…
They were absolutely capable of something like that.

Here—they literally used cultivators as fertilizer.

Lin Qingfeng, unaware of her horror, turned to her with a smile.

“Junior Sister, have you ever thought… what if there were a way to let others handle all the tedious labor for us?”

Others?

New prisoners?
Or lower disciples with poor aptitude?

He didn’t let her guess for long. He turned and gestured toward the deeper parts of Baicao Valley—where faint roars of beasts could be heard.

“Come, Junior Sister. Let me show you one more thing—our sect’s… Palu— cough, no, I mean, the Spirit Beast Garden.”