Chapter 177: Problem

Chapter 177: Chapter 177: Problem

The sleek distribution drones hovered down to each basalt platform, dropping off small, velvet-lined mahogany boxes before retreating back into the rafters.

One by one, the elite life-cultivators and herbologists opened their containers. A quiet, stunned silence fell across the floor of the Grand Alpine Botanical Arena as participants picked up the relics from Atlantis.

In Rowan’s palm lay a seed that felt less like plant matter and more like a piece of cold, ancient granite. It was rough, heavy, and slate-grey, covered in tiny, calcified mineral ridges formed by thousands of years of deep-sea pressure and ocean wards. It possessed no scent, gave off no warmth, and radiated zero active mana. To any standard sense, it was completely and utterly dead.

Panicked whispers began to break out across the arena floor as the contestants examined their seeds in utter perplexity.

Gabriel Bernard picked his seed up with silk gloves, holding it up to the stadium light with a trembling hand. Through his diagnostic lens, the seed registered as a solid block of petrified salt and mineral shell. He looked back at his gilded runic banners and bottles of synthetic growth fluid, realization dawning on him like a cold bucket of water.

If he poured his family’s high-potency chemical nutrients onto this calcified shell, the harsh acidity would corrode the brittle outer layer and incinerate whatever fragile, slumbering core remained inside. His modern, high-tech tools were completely useless.

A few rows over, Tian Yu closed his eyes, channeling a thin, microscopic needle of ancestral spiritual sense into the seed’s core. The moment his mana touched the calcified shell, the outer layer shuddered, micro-fractures spreading across the surface.

Tian Yu instantly snapped his eyes open and severed the connection, a rare bead of cold sweat forming on his brow. The seed was far too brittle for standard spiritual cultivation; even the gentlest pulse of forced chi was like striking glass with a sledgehammer.

"By the ancestors..." Jeremy muttered on his platform, carefully cradling his petrified seed between two fingers as if it were explosive ordnance. "This thing isn’t just asleep. It’s encased in a thousand-year-old crust of petrified ocean salt. Standard mana won’t penetrate it, and physical force will shatter it into dust. How are we supposed to wake something up when touching it almost breaks it?"

Up in the VIP galleries, foreign trade ministers and grandmasters exchanged tight, anxious looks. They had brought their brightest young minds to showcase their nation’s agricultural technology, only to watch them freeze before a challenge that defied every rule in modern botanical textbooks.

Rowan stood quietly on his platform, adjusting the brim of his Enchanted Straw Hat. Unlike the others who were frantically trying to scan, measure, or force energy into the seed, Rowan simply rolled the cold, stony relic across his palm, closing his eyes and opening his domain-attuned perception.

Where others felt only a dead rock or a delicate glass shell, Rowan’s senses pierced through the calcified crust, detecting a tiny, microscopic ember of ancient life locked deep within the center. It was weak, suffocating, and starved—a ancient seed waiting not for artificial stimulants or aggressive mana arrays, but for the gentle, primordial conditions of uncorrupted nature.

A calm, knowing smile touched Rowan’s lips. While the rest of the world’s elite botanists stood paralyzed, completely lost on how to begin, the young harvester from Sol-Aethel knew exactly what this sleeping legend required.

***

A sharp, blaring alarm echoed across the stadium, accompanied by a harsh crimson light flashing above a station in the third quadrant.

"Participant #34 — Seed Vitality Terminated. Disqualified!" the automated arena system announced coldly.

A young botanist from a prominent Western agricultural syndicate stood frozen above his plot, his hands trembling violently. Hoping to secure an early lead, he had treated the ancient relic like fast-yielding spirit wheat—digging a shallow furrow in the mana-dense soil, dropping the seed inside, and immediately drenching it in a glowing, high-potency emerald nutrient formula while driving a heavy burst of green life-mana into the dirt.

The result had been instantaneous and catastrophic.

The moment the dense, chemically boosted nutrient solution touched the brittle, calcified shell, a violent osmotic reaction occurred. The sudden surge of unnatural elemental pressure overwhelmed the delicate stone-like casing. Pffft. A tiny, pathetic plume of grey smoke rose from the dirt. When the frantic contestant dug into the soil, the Silphium seed was gone—reduced to a pile of lifeless, disintegrating dust.

Before the crowd could even process the sudden elimination, two more red beacons flashed in rapid succession across the radial floor.

BUZZ!

BUZZ!

A contestant from an Eastern merchant guild had attempted to use an aggressive heat-growth array to crack open the seed’s outer shell, while a senior life-cultivator from a maritime alliance had tried injecting high-purity refined mana directly into the seed’s core pathways. In both cases, the ancient, fragile structure couldn’t withstand the forced energy. Beneath their feet, their multi-thousand-year-old relics crumbled into inert ash.

A suffocating chill descended upon the Grand Alpine Botanical Arena.

In the span of less than five minutes, three of the world’s elite cultivators had been instantly eliminated, their precious seeds destroyed beyond repair.

A few rows over, Gabriel Bernard’s hand froze mid-air. The gilded cap of his family’s prized, ultra-concentrated nutrient bottle hovered half an inch above his soil bed. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead, dripping down his nose as he hastily withdrew his hands, staring at his petrified seed in utter horror. His face paled—one wrong move, one overly aggressive pulse of mana, and his aristocratic house would be humiliated in front of millions of live broadcast viewers.

Even Tian Yu took two deliberate steps back from his platform, his jaw tightening as he carefully set his mineral jars down. The cold reality had set in: standard modern techniques were completely lethal to this crop.

Beside Rowan, Jeremy let out a long, shuddering breath, carefully setting his petrified seed back into its mahogany velvet box. "Good grief... it didn’t even put up a fight. The moment they poured in those high-grade nutrients and forced mana, the shell collapsed under the sudden chemical shock."

"They treated a primordial sleeping relic like industrial wheat," Rowan said calmly, tipping the brim of his Enchanted Straw Hat. "They assumed high-vitality elixirs equal instant growth. But this seed spent thousands of years in deep-sea stasis; its internal pathways are as fragile as spun glass. Pumping dense, slag-heavy mana and acidic fertilizer into it is like pouring molten iron down a newborn’s throat."

Rowan looked around the arena floor. The panic was palpable. Out of the remaining contestants, no one dared to touch their soil anymore. Modern life-cultivators had grown so accustomed to using heavy mineral salts, aggressive arrays, and synthetic vitality boosters to force rapid yields that they were completely paralyzed when faced with something that demanded absolute purity and gentle resonance.

"So," Jeremy whispered, looking over at Rowan with a mixture of awe and eager anticipation. "If forcing it destroys it instantly... how do we awaken something that shatters the moment you try to feed it?"

Rowan knelt down by his basalt basin, scooping up a handful of the dark, cool earth and letting it trickle gently through his fingers. A calm, knowing smile touched his lips.

"We don’t force it to awaken," Rowan replied smoothly, his eyes glowing with a faint, radiant amber light as he tapped into his domain’s aura. "We give it an environment so pure, so primordial, that it wants to wake up on its own."