Lu Shaohua's eyes shimmered uncertainly before she gave a small nod. "If you wish to, young master Han Ji."

Wei Ji smiled faintly, brushing dust off his sleeves as he stepped into the middle of the courtyard. The sunlight fell upon his shoulders, golden rays cutting through the faint mist of spiritual energy that hung in the air. The flowers seemed to shift with his movements, as if quietly watching him.

He knelt, placing his right palm on the ground. The soil was warm, pulsing faintly with Qi. "Spirit Root Binding Technique," he murmured under his breath, forming the hand seal with practiced ease. Green light flickered between his fingers, thin and stable at first. But just as he channeled his Qi into the soil, the light flickered violently. The ground trembled, and then—

Boom!

A sharp gust of air exploded outward. The energy scattered like shattered glass. The flowers nearest to him swayed violently, some petals slicing through the air.

Wei Ji frowned. "Strange. My Qi flow is stable. That should've worked."

Lu Shaohua took a step forward. "Young master Han Ji, maybe—"

He raised his hand, stopping her. "It's fine. I'll try again."

He adjusted his breathing, centering his Qi in his dantian. Once more, he formed the hand signs, slower this time. The symbols glowed faintly before fading into the soil. He waited, feeling for the connection. The energy pulsed once. Twice.

Then—puff. The glow dimmed and vanished completely.

Nothing happened.

Wei Ji's brows twitched. He didn't speak, but the corner of his mouth tightened. "It failed again."

Lu Shaohua blinked in surprise. "That's impossible. I just—"

Wei Ji exhaled deeply. "It seems your version is different. Let me test it again."

He repeated the casting a third time. His voice grew heavier, every chant sharp and precise. The hand signs formed like flowing water. He infused his Qi carefully, making sure to trace the pattern of energy exactly as Lu Shaohua had described.

The glow appeared once more—brighter, steadier. For a moment, it seemed like it would succeed. The soil quivered lightly, small sprouts poking out. But then, the energy suddenly twisted, as if rejecting his control. The sprouts withered and turned to dust in an instant.

Wei Ji's hand froze in midair.

He could feel his Qi spiraling uncontrollably, refusing to settle. "Three times," he muttered under his breath, his tone tight. "And not once did it connect."

Lu Shaohua's eyes filled with concern. "Young master Han Ji, maybe you should rest. I can prepare the medicine kit in case your Qi goes out of balance."

He didn't answer. Instead, he wiped his palms against his robe and inhaled sharply. "No. Once more."

The fourth attempt began with silence. His breathing slowed, heart steady. The world around him seemed to fade away as he entered a focused trance. The hand signs flowed faster, the Qi surging more powerfully than before. The ground glowed under him, green lines spreading like veins across the soil.

But halfway through, something snapped.

Crack.

Wei Ji's eyes widened. His Qi turned chaotic, the flow reversing in his meridians. The formation collapsed, and the backlash hit him like a hammer. His body jerked backward, coughing out a thin line of blood.

Lu Shaohua gasped. "Young master Han Ji!" She rushed forward, panic in her voice.

He raised his hand weakly, motioning for her to stop. "Don't. I'm fine. Go bring the medicine kit. I'll stabilize my Qi myself."

Hesitating for a moment, she finally nodded and turned toward the small house beside the courtyard, her steps hurried.

Wei Ji sat there for a while, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His hand trembled faintly as he wiped the blood from his lips. "The Spirit Root Binding Technique… why can't I perform it?"

He was the Copy Master of the Upper Realm. He could mirror sword styles, cultivation methods, and even forbidden arts with a single glance. He had imitated techniques from thousands of sects. His name was once a legend among immortals for mastering what others could not.

But here, in front of one girl's creation, he was failing.

He clenched his fists tightly, staring at the faint traces of the formation on the ground. "No. It can't be. I must have made a mistake."

His expression hardened. "Again."

He started once more. The Spirit Root Binding Technique. His fifth attempt. His Qi was rough now, but his control remained sharp. The symbols glowed brightly, and for a moment, the energy lines connected perfectly.

He almost smiled—until the light shattered again, flickering out like dying embers.

The silence that followed was suffocating. He stared at his hands. His breathing grew shallow. His chest ached.

Lu Shaohua's footsteps could be heard returning, but before she could reach him, Wei Ji's face darkened. His pride burned too fiercely to stop now.

"Even at my weakest, I learned from gods themselves," he whispered. "Don't tell me I can't copy something a mortal designed."

He pressed his palm to the ground once more. The Spirit Root Binding Technique. Again.

Qi surged from his core, roaring through his veins like wild thunder. The formation glowed with furious light, brighter and brighter, the green hue turning into gold. The energy screamed against his control, his meridians burning in pain.

He pushed harder. "Bind!"

The soil trembled violently. The entire courtyard quaked as if the earth itself was resisting him. The flowers bent backward, petals torn away by the violent burst of spiritual force.

Wei Ji's body shook. Blood dripped from his nose, staining the soil red. "Why… why is it rejecting me?" he whispered, his voice low and hoarse.

He tried again, forcing the technique through sheer will. The same result. The formation shattered halfway, leaving him trembling and drenched in sweat. His Qi ran wild, crashing against his meridians until pain exploded through his body.

But he didn't stop. He gritted his teeth and tried again, and again, each time faster, more desperate. His voice turned harsh, his chants overlapping. The light grew more chaotic, the backlash stronger. His robe tore from the pressure, his hair whipping wildly as the energy stormed around him.

Lu Shaohua's voice echoed faintly from the distance. "Young master Han Ji, stop! Please, you're hurting yourself!"

He didn't listen. The next moment, another explosion of Qi burst outward, sending him staggering. His vision blurred as pain ripped through his chest. Blood splattered onto the flowers, staining their bright petals.

"Again," he growled, his tone shaking. His hand reached out once more, trembling but firm. "I won't lose to this."

He channeled his Qi one final time, pulling every ounce of spiritual energy within him into the technique. The formation lines glowed brilliantly, spinning and twisting into the shape of blooming roots. For a heartbeat, it looked like it would work. The light pulsed beautifully across the garden.

Then, with a soft cracking sound, it collapsed.

The backlash hit him harder than before. His body was flung backward, crashing onto the dirt. The taste of iron filled his mouth as he spat blood, coughing violently. His entire body ached, his meridians screaming in pain.

He stayed there, staring up at the sky. The sunlight blurred behind his fading vision. His breathing slowed.

He tried to lift his hand, but it trembled uncontrollably. "Even one…" he muttered weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even one of the three… I can't do it."

His eyes narrowed, disbelief and confusion flickering across his face. "I can't copy… the Spirit Root Binding Technique?"

His heart pounded in disbelief. "Impossible," he whispered. "If I can't copy one… what about the three together?"

The words died in his throat.

He pushed himself up slowly, his body shaking, his robes soaked in blood. His expression was pale and lost. The garden around him glowed faintly under the afternoon sun, every flower pulsing with serene light—as if mocking him.

Wei Ji stood there in silence, bloodied and stunned, staring at the perfect beauty of Lu Shaohua's creation.

"I can't do it," he whispered again, almost to himself. "Not even one."

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