The next morning, Kurose Nobumasa slept straight through until sunlight had spilled across the paper door.
This had almost never happened since the day he took over the clan. For the past seven years, whether it was winter or summer, Nobumasa had been accustomed to waking before most of the people in the household. Farmland, granary stores, servants, and dozens of trivial matters had never allowed the head of the Kurose clan to sleep until the sun was high in the sky.
In the end, it was Munetaka and Ieharu who woke him.
The two children had run in from who-knew-where, one tugging his hand while the other shook his shoulder. Munetaka at least knew to call softly a few times first. Ieharu had no patience at all, shaking him while complaining about being hungry as if the whole family had forgotten him for several days.
“Dad, get up. It’s almost lunchtime.”
“I’m hungry.”
“I’m hungry too.”
Nobumasa opened his eyes to the sound of the two children talking over each other.
He lay still for a few breaths. His first sensation wasn’t exhaustion, but lightness.
His entire body felt strangely light.
His muscles weren’t noticeably stronger, and his strength wasn’t yet enough to let him lift a stone table with one hand, but the heaviness that had quietly accumulated through years of worry and labor seemed to have diminished considerably. His breathing was deeper, his mind clearer, and even the places that usually ached after a night’s sleep felt noticeably more comfortable.
Nobumasa sat up and instinctively sensed the inside of his body.
The three streams of spiritual light were still there.
Red.
Green.
Blue.
The three spirit roots of Fire, Wood, and Water.
Last night had not been a dream.
He truly had a spirit root now.
When Ieharu saw his father sitting there in a daze, he tugged at his sleeve. “Dad. Food.”
Nobumasa came back to himself, laughed, and patted the boy’s head.
“Got it. You two go outside first. Let me get dressed.”
The brothers immediately ran off.
By the time Nobumasa entered the dining room, breakfast had long since ended. The household was preparing lunch. On the table were millet porridge, stir-fried greens, a few pickled dishes, and a plate of steamed beans. After last night’s meat-heavy meal, the food had returned to the Kurose household’s usual fare.
Another pot of chicken soup was still being kept warm by the stove.
That portion was for Shizuru.
Munetaka was eating when he suddenly looked over, then glanced at his father’s bowl.
“Dad, you’re not eating chicken?”
Before Nobumasa could answer, Chiyo, seated across from him, raised an eyebrow.
“Your father was so busy last night. If he’s feeling weak, the kitchen still has eggs. Leave the chicken soup for the woman who just gave birth.”
Her voice sounded perfectly calm.
But Nobumasa knew as soon as he heard it that last night’s matter had not completely blown over.
Munetaka didn’t understand the implication and seriously asked, “What was Dad busy with?”
The chopsticks in Nobumasa’s hand stopped.
Chiyo lowered her head to sip her tea, the corners of her lips slightly curved.
Nobumasa looked at his son for a moment, then picked up a piece of bean and put it in his bowl.
“Grown-up business. Eat your food.”
Seeing that his father didn’t want to talk about it, Munetaka let the subject drop. Ieharu hadn’t cared from the beginning. All his attention was focused on using his chopsticks to pick up a slippery piece of radish. It had fallen three times, but he still refused to give up.
The atmosphere at the table therefore remained fairly peaceful.
Nobumasa didn’t want to repeat last night’s jealousy episode either. After eating half a bowl, he had someone bring out the soup that had been kept warm, then looked at Munetaka.
“Are you finished?”
The boy immediately swallowed the rice in his mouth.
“Yes.”
“Then take the soup to Shizuru. Walk slowly. Don’t spill it.”
Munetaka carefully accepted the tray. After being punished by his father yesterday, he didn’t dare run this time. He carried the bowl of soup out of the dining room step by step with both hands.
Nobumasa rose and followed him.
Shizuru was awake.
Compared with last night, her complexion was a little better. Sakuma Genbei had returned shortly before dawn, bringing several doses of qi-and-blood replenishing medicine along with some expensive medicinal herbs. Shizuru had just finished drinking a dose, and the smell of medicine still lingered in the room.
Fumino and Takehisa lay side by side.
The elder sister was sleeping very peacefully.
Takehisa was still noticeably smaller, but his breathing was a little steadier than it had been the night before.
Nobumasa walked to the bedside.
“How are you feeling today?”
Shizuru leaned against the pillows. Her voice was still weak, but it had more strength than before. “Much better. The medicine Genbei brought back is very effective. It warmed me up after I drank it, and my hands and feet aren’t as cold anymore.”
Nobumasa nodded.
“Keep taking it for now. If you run short, buy more.”
Shizuru looked at him. “This kind of medicine isn’t cheap.”
“Money is meant to be used when it’s needed.”
Nobumasa lowered his head to look at Takehisa for a moment, then added, “Focus on recovering first. Chiyo and I will handle the household. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”
Shizuru didn’t argue.
She knew Nobumasa’s temperament. Once he said something like that, there was no point urging him to save more money.
Munetaka set the bowl of soup on a small table and stood beside it, looking at his younger siblings. The boy was much better behaved today. He didn’t reach out and touch things at random. He only watched for a while before asking Shizuru in a small voice whether he could teach Fumino to play in the courtyard once she grew older.
Shizuru laughed.
“Wait until she knows how to walk.”
Munetaka thought about it. “How long will that take?”
“A long time.”
“Then I’ll wait.”
Hearing the exchange, Nobumasa’s gaze lingered on his son a little longer.
Munetaka was seven years old.
Previously, Shizuru had taught him to recognize characters, and Nobumasa occasionally tested him, but for the most part, it had only been basic family education. The older the boy grew, the more mischievous he became. If they didn’t establish some discipline soon, within a few years he could easily turn into a teenager who knew nothing but running through the fields and climbing trees.
A clan that wanted to stand firm could not merely raise children until they grew up.
It had to teach them what they were inheriting.
How to read ledgers.
How to calculate.
How to follow rules.
At the very least, they had to understand why the people before them had preserved a piece of land, a granary, or a promise.
Nobumasa made a note of it.
Once Shizuru had recovered a little more, he would ask whether there was anyone around Kawase who would be suitable to teach Munetaka.
After leaving the eastern room, Nobumasa didn’t return to the dining table.
He went straight toward the back of the compound.
Beyond the granary stores stood a row of low buildings that few people visited. The outer doors stayed locked year-round, and only Nobumasa and Genbei kept the keys. Everyone in the Kurose clan knew this was where the head of the household stored seeds and prepared fertilizer, but only a handful of people were permitted to touch the specific processes inside.
Nobumasa unlocked the door.
A mixed smell of damp earth, rotting straw, and fermented organic matter immediately poured out.
Someone unaccustomed to it might find the smell unpleasant, but to Nobumasa, it was no different from the smell of money.
Wooden barrels and large jars used to ferment raw materials lined one wall. Leaves, chopped straw, kitchen ash, livestock manure, and other organic matter were mixed in different proportions and kept at the proper moisture level. Nobumasa had no precise measuring instruments like the ones in his previous life, so he had to rely mostly on experience, the temperature inside the compost, and the condition of the materials to make adjustments.
He went from barrel to barrel, checking the temperature with his hand before using a stick to turn the upper layer.
The new batch was quite good.
Not too dry.
There was no sign of bad fermentation, either.
These seemingly ordinary things were one of the reasons Kurose farmland and gardens produced higher yields than those of other households.
Nobumasa had once tried buying manure directly from livestock farmers and applying it to the soil the way people in the area usually did. The results weren’t bad, but they were inconsistent. Sometimes the plants were damaged, or pests and disease followed.
After changing the method, the soil retained its fertility much better.
More importantly, he had written the process down.
How much of each material.
How long to let it sit.
When to turn it.
What condition it had to reach before it could be used.
As long as the workers were taught properly, they could repeat the process. There was no need to wait for an old farmer who had lived fifty years to understand it by instinct.
That was what Nobumasa valued most.
Knowledge that existed only in one person’s mind would die with that person.
Only by turning it into a process could a clan preserve it.
He moved into the adjoining room.
It was cooler here and received less light. Many clay jars sat on the shelves, each containing seeds of important crops Kurose was cultivating. Some were mixed with damp sand, while others were kept dry depending on the species. Every jar had a tag recording when it had been stored and the source of its parent plant.
Nobumasa stopped in front of the Amasuzu seeds.
He opened a jar, selected several dozen plump seeds, and wrapped them in clean cloth.
While thinking about his three spirit roots last night, he had come up with another idea.
The Spirit-Nourishing Field.
A plot of land inside the Thousand-Leaf Family Hall, nourished by Clan Vein Life Qi, where time moved twice as fast as it did outside.
If it were used only to grow ordinary plants, the effect would already be considerable.
But Nobumasa wanted to know whether it had anything else to offer.
He returned to his study, carefully closed the door, and placed the packet of seeds on the table.
First, Nobumasa soaked some of them in clean water, following the usual method for encouraging germination. He would change the water each day, wait for the shells to absorb enough moisture, and then move on to the next stage.
He left the rest untouched.
Nobumasa held an Amasuzu seed between two fingers, closed his eyes, and focused his thoughts on the Thousand-Leaf Family Hall.
The scene inside the hall appeared.
The Thousand-Leaf Genealogy Wall was still glowing quietly.
The Spirit-Nourishing Field lay to the left of the hall. The thin mist over the soil seemed slightly denser than it had been on the first day.
Nobumasa tried to envelop the seed with his thoughts.
A very faint sensation appeared.
The Amasuzu seed in his hand vanished.
At the same time, a small object appeared at the edge of the Spirit-Nourishing Field.
Nobumasa opened his eyes.
His palm was empty.
He immediately closed his eyes again and checked carefully.
The seed had truly entered the hall.
Nobumasa tried several more times.
In the end, ten seeds had been sent to the Spirit-Nourishing Field.
He couldn’t send his physical body inside, so planting was rather inconvenient. He could only use his thoughts to exert a simple influence. After several attempts, the ten seeds were finally buried not too deep beneath the soil.
Nobumasa watched for a while.
Nothing miraculous happened immediately.
The soil didn’t glow.
The seeds didn’t sprout right before his eyes.
Instead, he felt relieved.
If a seed grew into a tree the moment it was planted, this place might have been even more frightening than he had imagined.
“Let’s see what happens.”
Nobumasa opened his eyes and looked at the seeds soaking in water on the table.
One group would be handled normally.
The other had been planted directly in the Spirit-Nourishing Field.
If both groups sprouted, he could compare their growth rates and conditions.
If the group inside the Family Hall couldn’t survive, he would at least still have the method outside.
From the three streams of spirit-root light last night to the ten pear seeds now, Nobumasa was increasingly realizing one thing.
The Thousand-Leaf Family Hall had many possibilities.
But if he didn’t experiment, record the results, and understand its limits, it would remain nothing more than a mysterious treasure.
He took out a new notebook.
On the first page, he wrote only four words.
“Family Hall Experiments.”
Below that, he wrote the date and the number of Amasuzu seeds: ten.
Nobumasa had just closed the notebook when children’s voices sounded from the courtyard.
He stepped out of the study and immediately saw Munetaka and Ieharu lying on their stomachs beside the wall.
Their backsides were sticking up, and their heads were nearly touching.
Munetaka held a broken roof tile, scooped water from a small ditch, and carefully poured it into a hole in the dirt.
Ieharu was cheering beside him.
“More.”
Only after walking closer did Nobumasa realize that it was an anthill.
He stood behind the two boys for a while, but they didn’t notice him at all.
“Having fun?”
Munetaka answered casually, “Yep.”
Only after speaking did he realize that the voice sounded wrong.
The boy froze.
Ieharu turned his head. The moment he saw his father, he jumped to his feet.
Nobumasa crossed his arms.
“Yesterday you were playing with water. Today you’re drowning an anthill. What are you two planning to do tomorrow?”
Munetaka lowered his head.
“We just wanted to see if ants could swim.”
“If you want to know, try jumping into the pond first.”
The boy immediately shook his head.
Nobumasa looked at the two of them, but in the end, he didn’t hit them. He only took the roof tile from Munetaka and pointed toward the courtyard.
“Go play somewhere else. Don’t hurt living things for fun.”
Ieharu didn’t understand all of it, but he still nodded.
Munetaka murmured an answer, then pulled his brother away and ran off.
Watching their backs, Nobumasa became even more certain that he needed to find someone to teach Munetaka.
Knowing how to read was only one part of it.
His character had to be shaped from a young age, too.
A clan could indulge mischievous children, but it could not raise a generation that knew only how to rely on the wealth of its ancestors.
By afternoon, Sakuma Genbei had finished preparing the carriage.
Nobumasa wanted to visit the Amasuzu orchard himself.
There was only a little over a month left before the harvest. At this point, the condition of the fruit would determine most of the year-end income. If pests, disease, or heavy rain appeared during this stage, the losses would be difficult to recover from.
The carriage left the Kurose compound, traveled along Kawase’s main road, and headed toward the hills to the west.
The town wasn’t large.
Most of the buildings along the road were low wooden houses, small shops, and storehouses belonging to local clans. Kurose had some reputation, but in terms of wealth alone, there were still several stronger households in Kawase.
One of them was Makino.
As soon as the carriage left the residential district, Genbei slowed the horses.
Ahead, beside a small roadside shelter on the road up the hill, a covered carriage was parked. Two servants stood beside the horses, while a middle-aged man in a fine cloth overcoat sat drinking tea beneath the shelter.
When he saw the Kurose carriage approaching, he immediately stood.
“Nobumasa.”
Makino Shigeyoshi smiled broadly.
“I guessed you’d be heading to the orchard today.”
Nobumasa told Genbei to stop the carriage.
He stepped down.
“Shigeyoshi, waiting for me here?”
“If I weren’t, who would make me sit by the road and drink two whole pots of tea?”
Shigeyoshi was rather round, with a face that always seemed to be smiling. An outsider might easily think he was kindhearted, but Nobumasa knew that the head of the Makino clan was no less calculating than any merchant he had ever met.
The Makino clan had risen to prominence only recently.
Their greatest source of income came from livestock. Makino chickens, ducks, pigs, and other animals were sold throughout Kawase. They also owned several slaughterhouses and a team of wagons specializing in food transportation.
The family also had a special history.
Several generations ago, someone with a spirit root had appeared among the Makino.
That person had left Kawase to cultivate for many years. Although he had ultimately failed to become a great cultivator, he had still left quite a few things for the clan before his death. Thanks to those connections and resources, Makino had gradually risen from an ordinary livestock-raising household into one of the wealthiest clans in town.
Unfortunately, no descendant with an immortal affinity had appeared after that.
Nobumasa had known this story for a long time.
Before, he had regarded it only as a tale that inspired regret.
After last night, its meaning was completely different.
Shigeyoshi invited him to sit.
The two drank a few sips of tea before Shigeyoshi finally got to the point.
“I won’t beat around the bush.”
Shigeyoshi rubbed his hands together.
“It’s about the Amasuzu orchard again.”
Nobumasa didn’t look surprised.
This was the fourth or fifth time Makino had asked.
Shigeyoshi had bought saplings from Kurose and even poached gardeners from several other households to give it a try. The trees survived, and the fruit still grew, but the yield and appearance were always noticeably inferior.
The problem wasn’t a single secret.
It was the entire process.
The soil.
The water.
The fertilizer.
How to prune.
When to nourish the fruit.
Pest control.
Harvesting.
Leave out one or two things, and the result was already different.
Shigeyoshi continued, “If you thought my previous offer was too low, I can raise it. Kurose can keep its orchard. Makino only wants the cultivation method. Both families make money. Wouldn’t that be better?”
If this had been a month ago, Nobumasa would still have refused.
The Amasuzu technique was one of the foundations that supported Kurose.
Handing it to someone else would be no different from raising another competitor with his own hands.
But today, he didn’t answer immediately.
Nobumasa looked at the road stretching toward the hills.
At the end of that road was the orchard he had spent years improving.
Most of the Kurose household’s accumulated cash had come from there.
It had once been an asset he absolutely refused to share.
But assets had value because they could be exchanged for what a clan needed.
If a technique was guarded until death, it was still only a technique.
Shigeyoshi noticed that his attitude was different from before and immediately sat up straighter.
“Nobumasa?”
Nobumasa turned back.
“Does Makino truly want it?”
Shigeyoshi laughed. “If I didn’t, would I be waiting for you here?”
“I’m not selling it for money.”
The smile on Shigeyoshi’s face faltered slightly.
“You don’t want money?”
“No.”
“Then what does Kurose want?”
Nobumasa didn’t answer right away.
He looked at the two Makino servants standing outside the shelter.
Shigeyoshi understood and waved for them to move farther away.
Genbei also took the initiative to retreat toward the carriage.
Only after they were alone did Nobumasa lower his voice.
“I once heard that the Makino ancestor left behind a cultivation method.”
Shigeyoshi’s expression changed immediately.
The smile remained.
But his eyes no longer held the look of someone negotiating over pears.
“Who told you?”
“Everyone in Kawase knows that the Makino family once had a cultivator. The fact that he left behind a few items isn’t an absolute secret, either.”
Shigeyoshi didn’t deny it.
Nobumasa continued, “I want to see that cultivation method.”
Shigeyoshi was silent for a moment, then shook his head.
“No.”
The answer came very quickly.
Nobumasa wasn’t surprised.
“Then there’s no need to discuss the trade.”
He stood.
Shigeyoshi immediately called out, “Wait.”
Nobumasa stopped.
The Makino man frowned, and his usual cheerful expression nearly vanished.
“Do you know what you’re asking for?”
“I do.”
“That is an ancestral relic.”
“The Amasuzu technique is also what Kurose uses to support the entire clan.”
“They’re not the same.”
“They’re not the same to Makino. To Kurose, I find them very similar.”
Shigeyoshi stared at him.
Nobumasa sat back down, his voice still calm.
“Makino wants something that can generate money for decades, perhaps even longer if your descendants preserve the process. Kurose wants a cultivation method that your family has been unable to use for generations.”
Shigeyoshi frowned.
“You don’t have a spirit root.”
Nobumasa had anticipated that question.
His expression didn’t change.
“I want to preserve it for future generations.”
The answer was so reasonable that Shigeyoshi couldn’t immediately refute it.
What clan that had once produced a cultivator didn’t hope a spirit root would appear again in a later generation?
That was precisely why Makino had preserved the cultivation method for so many generations.
Nobumasa continued, “I’m not asking for anything the Makino ancestor brought back from another immortal sect. I don’t want your family’s magical treasures or wealth, either. I only need a complete cultivation method that can be used to step onto the path of cultivation.”
Shigeyoshi’s fingers slowly tapped against the table.
“Even if Makino can’t use it now, it’s still an heirloom.”
“That’s why I’m offering Kurose’s heirloom in exchange.”
The two fell silent.
Wind blew down from the hillside, carrying the smell of dry grass and hot earth.
On one side was a cultivation technique proven capable of producing steady profits.
On the other was a cultivation method that had lain unused in a storehouse for generations.
Viewed through sentiment, the ancestral method was naturally priceless.
But Shigeyoshi was a businessman.
He also understood that something no one could use, no matter how precious, spent most of its time sitting in a chest.
Meanwhile, the Amasuzu technique could be turned into money within just a few years.
Shigeyoshi asked, “You intend to hand over the whole thing?”
“The main process.”
“Including soil preparation?”
“Included.”
“Pruning?”
“Yes.”
“Pest control?”
“Yes.”
“Even seed storage?”
Nobumasa looked at him.
“That isn’t part of the trade.”
Shigeyoshi let out a soft laugh.
“I knew you weren’t that generous.”
“I’m selling the method for growing Amasuzu, not Kurose’s entire storehouse.”
Shigeyoshi thought for another moment.
“I need a guarantee that the technique really works.”
“It can be provided.”
“Makino will send people to learn.”
“Fine.”
“If they learn it correctly but still don’t reach the level you claim after three years?”
“That’s why I want a clear contract from the beginning.”
Nobumasa placed his hand on the table.
“Kurose will provide the process we actually use. Makino will choose its own land, people, and organization. Once the transfer is complete, the profits and losses belong to Makino. You may not use disappointing yields as a reason to hold anyone from the Kurose clan responsible.”
Shigeyoshi considered it, then nodded.
“That’s reasonable.”
“The contract must be certified by the Kawase Steward.”
“Agreed.”
“The cultivation method must also be handed over in the complete form left behind by the Makino ancestor. If any part is missing or has been cut out, the trade is void.”
This time, Shigeyoshi didn’t answer immediately.
Nobumasa looked him straight in the eye.
A while later, Shigeyoshi sighed.
“You really have changed.”
“How so?”
“In the past, you wouldn’t yield an inch when it came to the pear orchard. Today, you dare trade it for a cultivation method that no one in the Kurose clan may ever be able to use.”
Nobumasa smiled faintly.
“People preserve assets for the future. If there’s something worth trading them for in order to gain a greater future, then holding on forever has no meaning.”
Shigeyoshi studied him for a long time.
Finally, he slapped his thigh.
“Fine.”
Nobumasa didn’t show any joy.
“You agree?”
“I agree to take this back and finalize it with the family. But the cultivation method is in my hands. Unless something unexpected happens, the trade can go through.”
“I need a definite answer.”
Shigeyoshi gritted his teeth for a moment, then said, “Fine. We’ll exchange.”
Only then did Nobumasa nod.
“Tomorrow at noon. We’ll meet at the Kawase Steward’s office.”
“Tomorrow at noon.”
The two settled a few more details before standing.
Shigeyoshi returned to his carriage first.
Nobumasa watched the Makino carriage leave and said nothing for a long time.
Genbei walked over.
“Head of the household, do you really intend to sell the Amasuzu cultivation method?”
He had stood far away and hadn’t heard the entire conversation, but some of it had still reached his ears.
Nobumasa looked toward the orchard on the hill.
“Not sell it.”
Genbei was confused.
Nobumasa said, “Exchange it.”
“What’s the difference?”
“There’s a difference.”
He climbed into the carriage.
“Selling means turning what you have into money. Exchanging means using one foundation in the present to obtain another foundation.”
Genbei still didn’t completely understand, but he didn’t ask anything else.
The carriage continued up the hill.
Amasuzu trees gradually appeared on both sides of the road.
Their branches were so heavy with fruit that many places required wooden supports. The young pears were gradually turning pale yellow, and beneath the late-summer sun, they looked like little bells hanging among the leaves.
Nobumasa watched them through the carriage window.
Several years ago, this very orchard had been what first made him feel he could preserve the Kurose clan.
Now it was about to become the thing that helped him step into another world.
He didn’t feel reluctant.
The technique was still in his hands.
The land was still there.
The people were still there.
Kurose wouldn’t immediately lose its family fortune just because Makino learned how to grow pears.
But if the cultivation method left behind by the Makino ancestor could truly be used, its significance would be entirely different.
He already had a spirit root.
The only things missing were the method for absorbing spiritual energy, circulating it through his meridians, and entering the first realm.
The Thousand-Leaf Family Hall had opened its doors last night.
The three spirit roots had lit up.
Tomorrow, perhaps he would obtain the first key to truly stepping through that door.
Nobumasa leaned against the carriage wall, his gaze still fixed on the Amasuzu orchard stretching across the hillside.
A month ago, if someone had told him to trade the clan’s life-sustaining technique for a cultivation method no one in the family could use, he would have thought that person insane.
Today, he was the one proposing the deal.
Not because the pear orchard no longer mattered.
But because, in his eyes, the road ahead had grown wider.
If Kurose wanted to endure for the long term, it couldn’t keep clinging to a single fertile field and a single good orchard, praying that every future generation would be blessed with years of peace and favorable weather.
Sometimes, a clan had to know when to hold on.
And sometimes, it had to dare to trade.
To use what it had now in exchange for what later generations might need more.
The carriage slowly traveled deeper into the Amasuzu orchard.
Nobumasa closed his eyes. In his sea of consciousness, the Thousand-Leaf Genealogy Wall continued to shine quietly.
There were still very few leaves on it.
But starting today, he had begun preparing the soil for leaves that had never appeared before.