Silent Path

He could feel the vibrations. The roots of the blackthorn grass clenched tightly in the soil. The low-level spirit stone pulsed warmly when held in the palm of the hand. Deep in the earth, that slow and heavy pulse that has been sleeping for eternity. He wasn't listening - he was born unable to hear. The morning bells and evening drums, the sharp sound of flying swords, and the soft ringing of spiritual energy in other people's ears are nothing but deathly silence. Everyone thought that he was the most useless handyman of the Qingyun Sect, a useless person with five spiritual roots who couldn't even draw Qi into his body. No one knew that he could feel the direction of spiritual energy flow along the lines of the blue bricks, he could feel the breathing of medicinal seedlings buried deep in the soil from the undulations of the soil, and he could feel the remaining tremors of ancient formations from an inconspicuous crack. He thought he would spend his whole life pulling grass in the yard and guarding his treasure until that day, when he dug out a copper fragment engraved with a spiral pattern from under the roots of the black thorn grass. The black jade pendant he had worn on his chest for sixteen years felt slightly hot against his heart for the first time. He raised his hand and touched his left ear. There was dead silence. It wasn't until this moment that he realized that everything in the world had its own pulse and vibration. It's just that his ears were quietly blocked many years ago.