The Accidental Harvest

966 words

Another night passed. At daybreak, Han Li headed straight for the medicinal garden, eager to check on the herbs. What changes might there be?

Before he even reached the field, several rich, medicinal fragrances hit his nose.

He paused, then his heart stirred. Could it be…

He quickened his pace, arriving at the plants that were now exuding such a potent scent.

Were these the same herbs from yesterday? Han Li couldn’t believe his eyes. He slapped his sleep-softened face several times, hard enough to sting, before stopping his self-abuse.

“The Yellow Dragon herb’s leaves are tinged with purple… the Bitter Lotus has actually bloomed with nine petals… and the Forget-Sorrow fruit’s skin has turned black… Ha! Haha!” He could no longer contain himself. Even with his usual steady composure, he threw his head back and laughed aloud.

“I’ve hit the jackpot. Overnight, these herbs with only a year or two of growth have all become a dozen years mature. Look at the leaf color, the fruit’s shape, the fragrance of the petals… they’re exactly how a rare herb would look after several years of aging.” He examined them again, confirming they matched every detail in the herbal manuals. They were genuine, hard-to-find ingredients, now aged for years.

If I can ripen herbs like this, I’ll have as many rare ingredients as I want! And any I don’t need, I can sell. No amount of silver is out of reach. His heart pounded, and his thoughts ran wild.

He grew more excited, his imagination stretching further and further. He truly felt he had found a treasure. Suddenly, he turned a few cartwheels on the ground, shedding his usual calm completely. It was the same way any fourteen- or fifteen-year-old boy would express such exhilaration.

It took him a long time to sober up. His mind returned to its usual alertness, and he began to consider the problems that came with this windfall.

First, the herbs looked fine, but their actual medicinal properties still needed testing. They had changed after absorbing that strange liquid. Who knew if they had mutated? He had seen the fate of those rabbits yesterday. Caution was paramount.

Second, the green liquid in the mysterious vial was gone. He needed to check if the phenomenon would happen again, or if it was a one-time event. He would have to verify that tonight.

If neither of those were issues, he would need to grasp the details and steps of this ripening process and fully master this incredible method.

After deep thought, Han Li laid out these problems. Without solving them, this windfall was nothing but a mirage.

Once he finished planning, he set to work.

He went to the main kitchen outside the valley and bought two more gray rabbits from the steward. The steward was both happy and puzzled. Why did this boy keep buying live rabbits? Was he practicing his cooking skills by slaughtering them himself?

Han Li didn't care what others thought. This time, he didn't tie the rabbits in the garden. He tethered them outside his own door so he could observe them at all times.

Then, he carefully harvested the ripened herbs from the field and prepared several doses of a medicine meant to strengthen tendons and bones. He mixed the medicine into the rabbits' favorite food and fed it to them three times a day, testing if the herbs were poisonous.

With that done, he anxiously waited for nightfall. Time crawled, but the evening finally arrived as he had hoped.

As soon as dusk fell, Han Li ran outside, took the vial from his pouch, and placed it on the ground. He concentrated, watching the vial intently.

A quarter of an hour passed. Nothing happened.

Half an hour passed. Still nothing.

Three-quarters of an hour…

As time trickled by, Han Li's heart sank. He waited until nearly dawn. The vial showed no change at all.

Utterly dejected, he wondered if the vial was truly a one-use item. Or had he done something wrong?

He forced himself to look around, surveying the environment.

“Nothing suspicious. Except the sky is rather dark,” he muttered to himself.

He froze. He looked up sharply.

The sky was black and heavy, concealing everything. “Rather dark” had suddenly struck a chord.

Could it be because it's overcast, with no stars or moon? He recalled that the vial’s earlier changes had all occurred on clear nights, when the sky was unobstructed and the stars and moon were visible. Today was gloomy, with thick clouds overhead.

This insight lifted his spirits slightly. Seeing that the sky was beginning to lighten, he knew nothing more would happen tonight. He put the vial away, resolving to try again when the weather cleared.

But contrary to his expectations, the sky did not clear. For the next half month, a steady, soft drizzle fell, continuing without end.

Han Li stared at the fine, drizzling rain outside, growing more frustrated by the day. The more he wished for clear skies, the more relentlessly the rain fell, showing no sign of stopping.

He turned to look at the two rabbits sheltering inside. Seeing them hopping about cheerfully only soured his mood further. Ever since they had eaten the medicated food, they had shown no ill effects. If anything, they seemed even more energetic. For over ten days, Han Li had observed them daily, confirming they had no symptoms of poisoning. Instead, they had grown stronger from the bone-strengthening medicine.

This good result did nothing to cheer him up. It only made him more anxious, with no way to calm himself. Whether the vial could produce more green liquid had become the key to everything. And this persistent, wretched weather was keeping the answer from him. How could he not be deeply frustrated?

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Reading Guide Decoding

Potency, Patience, and the Perils of Weather

Cultural / Xianxia Notes

One of the most underappreciated aspects of Mortal Stream fiction is the rigorous, almost scientific methodology Han Li applies to his supernatural discoveries. This chapter is a textbook example. He doesn’t just accept a miracle; he cross-checks it against herbal manuals, runs animal trials, and deduces environmental variables. The emphasis on medicinal taxonomy—leaf color, petal count, fruit skin—reflects the deep cultural weight placed on herbalism in Chinese medicine, where subtle visual cues determine potency and toxicity. For Western readers, think of it as a cultivation-era lab protocol: Han Li’s anxiety isn’t paranoia; it’s due diligence. Also note the importance of the sky: in Daoist cosmology, the interplay of heavenly bodies with earthly energy is fundamental. The green liquid’s dependence on moonlight and stars isn’t arbitrary—it suggests an alchemical connection to celestial essence, a recurring motif in xianxia. The half-month rain delay isn’t just a plot contrivance; it reinforces that even with a miraculous tool, the cultivation path is defined by waiting, uncertainty, and limited windows of opportunity.

Qi Deviation

A life-threatening condition where a cultivator's internal energy spirals out of control; often triggered by emotional shock, attachment, or karma.

Chapter Overview

Who knew pharmaceutical research could be this thrilling in a cultivation novel? Chapter 25 takes us deep into Han Li’s lab phase, following a pattern that will become his signature: wild exhilaration, followed by methodical, almost paranoid testing. The ripening effect of the mysterious green liquid is confirmed, and the result is spectacular. But Han Li—never one to trust a gift horse without examining its teeth—immediately pivots to risk management. He tests the herbs on rabbits, agonizes over whether the vial will produce more liquid, and is then stonewalled by a half-month of cloudy weather. The emotional rollercoaster is real, and it gives us one of the first cracks in Han Li’s perpetually cool facade. Get ready, because this chapter is less about fighting and more about the quiet, obsessive grind that separates a survivor from a reckless fool.

Key Plot Points

Han Li discovers the overnight transformation: the herbs have aged from one-to-two years to over a decade, displaying textbook signs of maturity.
He experiences a rare, full-throated emotional release—somersaults, laughter, wild daydreaming about infinite silver—before reining himself in.
Han Li immediately identifies three critical unknowns: the herbs’ actual toxicity, whether the vial will produce more green liquid, and the exact method of controlling the ripening process.
He buys two new rabbits to test the herbs’ safety, this time tethering them outside his room for continuous observation.
He feeds them medicated food and confirms no poisoning; the rabbits actually grow healthier, hinting that the ripened herbs are safe or even beneficial in small doses.
Han Li tests the vial that night under overcast skies—and nothing happens. His hope sinks as dawn approaches with no result.
He deduces the key condition: the vial’s green liquid only manifests on clear nights when stars and moonlight are unobstructed.
The chapter ends on a frustrated note: a half-month of continuous drizzle prevents him from confirming his theory, deepening his anxiety.

Reading Guide

This chapter is a masterclass in showing how Han Li’s mind works. Pay attention to the sequence: euphoria, calculation, experimentation, frustration, deduction. It’s a cycle he’ll repeat for hundreds of chapters. The rabbit test is also a quiet callback to Chapter 24, where undiluted green liquid was lethally toxic. Now, the ripened herbs are harmless or even beneficial—which suggests the liquid’s interaction with plants is fundamentally different from direct consumption. Also, note the emotional beat: Han Li does somersaults. That’s huge. For a character who usually registers emotion as granular data points, this is a volcanic eruption. It makes his subsequent calm deduction even more impressive—and the rain-induced despair more relatable. If you’re a new reader, understand that this patience-grind is the emotional core of orthodox xianxia. No one hands you power; you wrestle it from an indifferent universe, one frustrating meteorological forecast at a time.