The Herb Gatherer's Granddaughter (1)

I was born about ten years ago in a remote village nestled near the Great Mountain Range in northern Jin Country. Surrounded by mountains on all sides, most folks in the village made their living gathering herbs or hunting rather than farming. Our family was no exception.

The Ryu family. For generations, we'd dug up herbs, dried them, and scraped by on the proceeds. We were pretty good at it, too—we even had a small herb patch and a storage shed. But there were really only two of us left: me, and "Yeon-hwa!" Grandpa.

"Didn't I tell you not to handle them so roughly, or the potency will fade?"

I snapped to attention. "Ah, yes!"

I was sitting on a wide wooden platform in the open yard out front of the shed. It was covered with all sorts of herbs, and Grandpa ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was meticulously trimming and sorting the ones he'd just brought back from the mountains.

He picked up the herb I'd been fiddling with. "The finer roots bruise easily—their effect halves if they're damaged."

His wrinkled hands gently brushed the dirt from the roots. "See? Just shake off the soil like this, nice and easy."

I mimicked him carefully with my own spindly little fingers. "Like... this?"

Grandpa nodded. "That's right. Good job."

I gave a small smile. These tasks were starting to feel familiar, even though I'd only been helping for a few days. Well, having memories from my past life helps.

"Yeon-hwa."

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow, you'll come with me up the mountain."

I looked up. "To gather herbs?"

"Mm-hm." He sorted steadily as he spoke. "You've learned enough about them by now. And lately, folks at the market have been clamoring for Hui Ling Grass and Qing Ling Grass—prices are up nicely."

Hui Ling Grass and Qing Ling Grass. Herbs that cropped up now and then in these mountains. I recalled the illustrations from the old books Grandpa sometimes showed me. Hui Ling Grass had a flower like a Solomon's seal, while Qing Ling Grass bore blue petals and dandelion-like leaves. It was the main ingredient in Wound Healing Pills, fetching a solid two silver taels per root.

"Got it."

Grandpa eyed me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for a moment. "You've only been at this a short while, but you already distinguish them so well."

"Do I?"

There was a warmth in his gaze. "Your father wasn't half as gifted at your age."

I paused, lost in thought. Parents. In my past life, mine had been healthy and hale. Here, though, both were long gone. Not long after I was weaned, they'd gone up the mountain to forage more for me... and run afoul of some beast. When Grandpa and the villagers searched, all they found were shredded clothes. So now, it was just Grandpa and me.

"...Yeon-hwa."

His voice pulled me back. "Ah."

"You alright?"

I forced a smile. "I'm fine."

He fell silent for a beat, then murmured softly, "You're still young. If climbing the mountain scares you, no need to push yourself."

I bowed my head. "I'm fine."

And I really was. Sure, this body's faint echoes of grief for its parents lingered, but my past life's memories dominated. The sadness felt distant, almost unreal.

As I shook off the reverie and kept trimming, a strange tingle brushed my fingertips. Like the plants were recognizing me. Then, with a clear ding, something popped up in front of my eyes.

"...Huh?"

It looked just like a status window...

I blinked. It didn't vanish.

Hallucination...? I blinked a few more times. No dice. Focusing made the text sharpen even more.

What jumped out was the aptitude: Wood Single Spirit Root.

I rummaged through past-life memories. Spirit roots—the essential talent for cultivators. And from the xianxia novels I'd read, a single spiritual root guaranteed Core Formation, at least, as long as you survived.

I swallowed hard. In this village, I'd only ever seen herb gatherers, hunters, the occasional merchant at market, and their escorts. Never a single immortal cultivator.

But the status window didn't seem to lie. I held my breath, scanning the traits. Plant Spirit Body. Plant Nurturing. Growth Acceleration. Any major sect would kill for these.

Problem was, those same novels flashed through my mind. Characters with gifts like these, but no solid backing? They got body-snatched, refined into human pills by desperate old monsters, or worse—if they were lucky.

Great power. But dangerous as hell.

That was when—

"Yeon-hwa."

I jumped, looking up. Grandpa was staring right at me.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing!" I shook my head frantically. Did he see the window?

He just tilted his head. I sighed inwardly with relief. Whew. Looks like it's just for me.

I wanted to dig deeper, but with Grandpa right there, I shelved it and went back to the herbs.

Time slipped by, the sun dipping low, shadows stretching long across the yard. Grandpa finished the last herb and stretched his back.

"Heh heh... that'll do for today."

He gathered them into baskets. I hopped up to help carry.

"Yeon-hwa, open the shed door for me."

"Yes."

I pushed with all my little body's might. Creeeak—the wooden door swung open. Inside, dried herbs hung densely from the rafters, their bitter tang sharp in the air.

I sorted the baskets ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with practiced motions. Grandpa gave them a final once-over.

"That's enough for tonight."

"Yes."

"We'll head to the mountain early tomorrow—get some sleep."

"Got it."

He shuffled inside. I lingered by the shed, glancing around. No one in sight.

I slipped my hand into the herb pile and pocketed a few common roots we'd just prepped.

This much... should be fine.

Tucking them up my sleeve like nothing happened, I shut the door and headed to my room.

My room was tiny. A low wooden bed. A small oil lamp. A single mirror.

I shut the door and lit the lamp. Dim light flickered to life.

"Phew..." I pulled out the herbs from my sleeve. Three kinds—common wild ones.

Let's test with these...

I examined one closely: Qing Ye Grass, abundant in the hills. Weak potency, worthless price—sold in bundles at market for a handful of copper coins.

But now, I could sense its state crystal-clear. No status readout, but like a voice explaining: age in seasons, any damage spots.

Even trimming diligently earlier, my novice skills had nicked some fine roots—subtle enough I'd have missed it before.

Recalling the trait: 【Growth Acceleration】 'Channels spirit qi into plants.'

The hitch: spirit qi. I wasn't a cultivator yet.

But after a moment's thought, I closed my eyes. Past-life xianxia tropes: breathing. Dantian. Qi flow.

I inhaled slowly, focusing on my gripping hand.

...Nothing.

Figures...

Then—a resonance between my body and the Qing Ye Grass.

"Huh?"

I opened my eyes and gaped. The leaves were turning vibrant green, vitality surging back in.

"...It actually works?"

My heart pounded. Holding my breath, I focused harder. A warm energy flowed from my fingertips.

The damaged roots mended before my eyes.

I stared, dumbfounded. Then it hit me.

"...This."

This was the kind of ability that could get you in real trouble if word got out.