Lin Xian moved carefully among the ancient ruins, heart still thudding from overheard whispers of Sect watchers.
He couldn’t afford to be seen.
Not yet.
But he couldn’t stay away either.
The Spirit Garden inside him called to the Grove, feeding from the faint Verdant Qi that still clung to the bones of the forgotten gardens.
It needed more.
It needed life.
And somewhere ahead — beyond the broken stones, deeper into the ruins — something pulsed faintly.
A struggling, flickering light.
A heartbeat.
Not the Verdant Heart.
Something smaller.
Wounded.
Lin Xian slipped between two collapsed pillars, the air thick with pollen and rot.
He paused, listening.
At first there was only the creak of vines and the distant cry of spirit birds in the mountains.
Then —
A faint rustling.
A soft, broken whimper.
Lin Xian’s breath caught.
He crept forward, following the sound.
Around a curve of fallen masonry, half-buried under thorny undergrowth, he found it.
A shape — small, round, battered — lay crumpled against the mossy stones.
At first, he thought it was just a gourd, cracked and forgotten.
Then it twitched.
Groaned.
Tiny stubby arms — little more than thick vines — pawed weakly at the ground, trying to pull itself upright.
The creature was no larger than a child’s backpack, its "body" a rough, battered pumpkin riddled with hairline fractures. Tiny twig-like legs kicked feebly beneath it.
Two deep-set eyes, faintly glowing orange, blinked at him from its round face.
A crude stitched mouth — a permanent frown — trembled as it whimpered again, struggling and failing to right itself.
A Pumpkin Golem.
Lin Xian stared, heart twisting.
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He had heard legends whispered by old servants:
Of the old Verdant Heart masters who crafted tiny guardians from spirit vines and gourds to tend the gardens, to ward off pests, to sing to the flowers at night.
But the art was lost now.
Discarded.
Forgotten.
Just like everything else.
The golem finally managed to roll onto its side.
It lay there panting — if such a thing could pant — its tiny arms curling protectively around its cracked middle.
Lin Xian stepped forward carefully.
The golem flinched, letting out a tiny squeaky hiss and attempting to scuttle backward — only for one leg to collapse under it.
It whimpered again.
Wounded.
Scared.
Abandoned.
Lin Xian knelt slowly, arms open and empty.
He spoke softly, the way he would to a wounded rabbit:
"It’s alright," he murmured. "I won’t hurt you."
The golem’s tiny glowing eyes narrowed suspiciously.
It kicked weakly at the air.
Lin Xian smiled despite himself.
"Fierce," he said. "Good."
The Spirit Garden inside him stirred — a gentle pulse of recognition.
This creature was tied to the old ways.
To the true Verdant Path.
And it was dying.
Lin Xian extended one hand, palm up.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The golem stared at him, vines twitching nervously.
For a long moment, it didn't move.
Then, trembling, it stretched out one stubby arm and tapped his hand.
The moment of contact sent a shock through Lin Xian’s soul.
He saw —
Fleeting images:
- A field of pumpkin vines stretching under starlight.
- Laughing cultivators crafting tiny guardians from rich soil and wild seeds.
- The fall of the Verdant Heart — fire and betrayal — and the scattering of all that was gentle and living.
He felt the golem's memory: loneliness, hunger, pain.
Waiting.
Waiting for someone who would tend, not take.
Waiting for someone who would not see weakness as waste.
Waiting for someone like him.
The Spirit Garden inside Lin Xian pulsed.
The sapling at its heart shivered.
Roots unfurled, reaching outward, weaving a bridge of light toward the tiny golem’s wounded spirit.
A bond.
Not forced.
Offered.
Accepted.
Lin Xian inhaled sharply as the connection settled.
The Pumpkin Golem let out a low, satisfied croak — almost a purr — and slumped against his knee, exhausted but at peace.
Lin Xian scooped it up carefully, cradling the battered creature against his chest.
It weighed almost nothing.
But it filled something heavy inside him — a hollow he hadn’t even realized was aching until now.
He ran a hand gently over its cracked surface, feeling tiny vines twitch under his fingers.
"You need a name," he said softly.
The golem blinked up at him.
Lin Xian thought for a moment, then smiled.
"Gourdo," he said. "Strong. Round. Stubborn."
The golem let out a tiny huff — possibly approval — and curled tighter into his arms.
He carried Gourdo back to the hollowed tree where he hid his meditation spot.
There, he worked through the afternoon, carefully channeling thin trickles of Verdant Qi into the golem’s cracked body, patching the worst of the damage with spirit-moss he'd gathered from the grove.
It wasn’t a true healing — that would require spirit fruits and a full purification pool — but it was enough to stabilize him.
Enough to let him rest.
Enough to survive.
That night, as Lin Xian slipped into the Spirit Garden within his soul, he found a new sight waiting for him.
Beside the sapling’s base, a small patch of soil had been raised into a tiny mound.
From it sprouted a single thick vine, curling into a protective circle — and nestled within it, a small bud in the shape of a pumpkin.
Not a guardian.
A companion.
Part of the garden now.
Part of him.
Lin Xian knelt beside the new bud, brushing his fingers gently over the vine.
It pulsed faintly, steady and warm.
His first spirit bond.
His first true companion.
Not strong.
Not flashy.
But real.
Loyal.
Living.
He smiled, heart full to bursting.
The Spirit Garden felt different now — not larger exactly, but richer.
Fuller.
As if, by sharing it with another life, it had found a new rhythm, a new breath.
He would tend this garden.
Grow it.
Protect it.
Not alone.
Never alone again.
Outside, Gourdo snored softly, tiny vines twitching in his sleep.
Lin Xian chuckled, lying back against the hollow tree, arms folded behind his head.
The road ahead would be hard.
The sect would not ignore his awakening.
Danger would come.
But for tonight —
Tonight he was not a weed-boy scrubbing floors.
Tonight he was a cultivator.
A gardener.
A sovereign of a tiny, stubborn kingdom.
And he would see it bloom.
Verdant Sovereign is a story about stubborn growth, about finding strength where others only see weakness — and I’m honored you're here at the start.
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