Chapter 279 – Red Tip Photinia

Mo Lan walked all the way down the mountain, bagging a giant deer, a mountain tiger, and raiding a den of fat badgers. Just as she was about to head back, the mountain breeze carried a thick, cloying, bizarre smell to her.

The source of the odor was still beyond the range of her Wind Sensing.

Curious, she walked in that direction and discovered a red tip photinia tree in full bloom.

The smell of the flowers was hard to stomach, but the tree was over two hundred years old.

And it was a Beginner-grade magical plant, no less! The flowers could be used to brew insect-luring potions — a more complex concoction than insect-killing potions. The idea was to attract all the insects to one spot, then poison them en masse.

A magical plant over two hundred years old would surely have a more extensive root system, greater spiritual awareness, and more knowledge of its surroundings!

Mo Lan held her nose and walked over, then cast Tree Friend.

“Oh, a witch! Do you think I smell nice?”

Mo Lan: “…”

As expected of a tree that had lived this many years — it had developed its own opinions.

“You stink,” Mo Lan said bluntly.

The Tree Friend spellbook said nothing about having to mind a tree’s feelings when casting the spell to gather information.

Tree Friend was essentially a transaction. Witches converted their mana into a type of energy that trees enjoyed — one that enhanced their spiritual awareness — and in return, the trees provided the witch with assistance.

Otherwise, there wouldn’t be young trees that witches gradually raised in spiritual awareness through repeated Tree Friend castings, turning them into plant sentinels and dwelling guardians.

This tree’s spiritual awareness was remarkably high. Clearly it wasn’t just because of its age — it must have had Tree Friend cast on it quite a few times before.

A witch’s magical transaction wasn’t so easily disrupted.

There was no need to worry about angering the tree and having it retaliate, either. Its spiritual awareness hadn’t reached the level where it could harbor such complex intentions.

Sure enough, Mo Lan only sensed a wave of displeasure from the red tip photinia: “What do you want? Hurry up and ask your questions, then leave! Don’t go stinking up you fragrant little witches!”

“I want to know about the surrounding area. What giant beasts are there? What magical plants? Are there any minerals underground? Oh, and are there any young witches living nearby?” Mo Lan asked.

“Giant beasts? A deer and a tiger are already in your bag. As for the rest — in the direction the mountain wind blows from, there’s a great river, and the river has some big crocodiles…

As for magical plants, walk toward the direction of the rising sun, cross over three mountain peaks, and you’ll find a little witch with fresh green grass growing on her head all year round. She’s gathered all the nearby magical plants onto her own mountain… except me.”

Mo Lan: “???”

A little witch with fresh green grass growing on her head year-round? Which senior in the fourth year had taken to growing grass on her head?

The red tip photinia seemed to have retreated into itself and refused to say anything more.

Still, the information it gave should be reliable — at least from its perspective, it was telling the truth.

As for what was really going on, she’d find out when she went to look.

Sensing the faint note of grievance from the tree at the end, Mo Lan added one last thing:

“Witches and plants, beasts, and insects all have different senses. We think you stink, but that doesn’t stop you from thinking you smell nice — or all those insects swarming around you from thinking so too.

Besides, your scent is actually quite useful.

I’ll cast another Tree Friend for you. In exchange, I’m taking some of your flowers.”

The red tip photinia: “Go ahead and pick them… take as many as you like~~~”

Mo Lan smiled. It had taken her words to heart.

She patted the trunk. What a stubborn old tree!

She pulled a piece of cloth folded down to the size of a coin from her bag. After canceling the Shrinking Spell on it, the tiny square of cloth became a large sheet — bigger than a bedsheet when unfolded — and she spread it beneath the tree. Then she used a gentle Wind Vortex to sweep the flower clusters from the branches, sending them drifting down onto the cloth, where they quickly piled into a large heap.

“Done!” Mo Lan bundled up the cloth and shrank it right down, holding it in her hand. “I’m off!”

The red tip photinia: “I’m different from other photinias — I bloom in summer and bear fruit in spring. Don’t miss the timing next time you come to pick flowers!”

“Got it!” Mo Lan dangled the plump little bundle and headed back the way she came.

*

Near the mountaintop campsite, Vasida and Sylph were bent over their math homework.

“Sylph, how did you solve this problem?!”

“I… I don’t know how to do it either. I just wrote down a random answer. Don’t copy mine — the Headmistress will notice!”

“Oh heavens! Good thing you told me! I don’t want another extra workbook! Ugh! Math is more terrifying than last night’s thunder. When will we ever finish?!”

“Vasida, do you smell something awful?”

“I smell it too! This stinky wind is so strange! It’s like it’s being funneled straight into our noses… wait, that’s clearly wind-element magic!”

Vasida could feel a very unnatural elemental force in the wind, practically slapping her in the face as if to announce, “I’m not natural.”

Then she looked up and saw the figure emerging from the forest. Mystery solved: “Moira!”

“What kind of wind-element magic is that? Why does it stink so much? Is it a Toxic Wind spell?” Sylph asked with a perfectly serious expression, hands clamped over her nose.

“Ha ha ha! There’s no such thing as a Toxic Wind spell! It’s just basic manipulation of elemental force — it doesn’t even qualify as magic. The smell is coming from this!”

Mo Lan waved the little bundle in her hand.

“What is that?” Vasida tossed her homework aside and leaned in to ask.

Even sniffing a stinky bundle was better than staring at math problems.

“Red Tip Photinia flowers!” Mo Lan said. “I found a red tip photinia tree over two hundred years old at the bottom of the mountain and picked these from it.”

“Red Tip Photinia?” The name stirred unpleasant memories for Vasida. There was one in Greenhouse No. 1 as well — a small little tree that, when in bloom, was enough to make her walk a wide circle around it. “What did you pick those for?”

“They can be used to brew insect-luring potions! When you’re setting up a dwelling in the wild, pest control needs to be thorough.

You sprinkle the insect-luring potion around the perimeter of the dwelling to attract all the nearby insects to one spot, then exterminate them all at once. After that, you sprinkle insect-repelling potion, and you won’t have any mosquito or bug problems around the dwelling!

It happens to be blooming season right now, and next time we come it might not be. I picked a lot — I’ll extract all the plant essence from them later. It’ll be enough for the three of us to use for a long time,” Mo Lan said.

“Great!” Thinking about the effect of the insect-luring potion, Vasida decided the stench was bearable after all.

“Moira, that photinia tree must have had pretty high spiritual awareness, right? Did you find out anything useful?” Sylph asked.

“I did, actually! Three mountains to the east, there’s a senior student’s dwelling. The photinia tree said it’s a little witch with green grass growing on her head. No idea who it is,” Mo Lan said.

“Green grass on her head?” Vasida and Sylph mentally ran through every senior in the fourth year but couldn’t figure out who had the hobby of growing grass on their head.

“There aren’t any large flying beasts in this area. Tomorrow morning we’ll take our brooms and go have a look — it’s just three mountains away, not far at all.”

Mo Lan said this as she pulled out the game she had hunted.