Konoha: The Absolute Justice of the Uchiha.

Chapter 402 White Mold

"Pause for two seconds," Chi Quan said, "then exhale slowly."

As you exhale, imagine your ribs slowly closing, like the feeling of a book being closed—not slammed shut, but gently closed page by page.

Kai exhales in this rhythm, and the spring slowly descends, from five centimeters to three centimeters, from three centimeters to one centimeter, and then returns to zero.

His exhalation was very even, unlike his usual practice of exhaling all at once. Instead, he controlled the speed of his exhalation, keeping the ratio of exhalation to inhalation time at one to two.

"very good.

"You mastered breathing rhythm control on your first try, faster than I expected." Chi Quan pressed the timer and made a checkmark in his notebook. "Three sets, fifteen repetitions per set, one round each morning, noon and evening."

One week later, adjust the spring tension one level higher.

If you get bored while using this trainer, you can do other things at the same time, such as looking at your body technique training notes.

However, it's not recommended to watch Xiao Li's training videos while doing breathing exercises, as your breathing rhythm will be disrupted by the frequency of his push-ups.

Kai took the trainer out of his mouth and wiped the tube connector with a towel from the coffee table.

His expression was very serious—not the perfunctory seriousness one shows when listening to medical advice, but the kind of seriousness that comes from the heart when learning something new, a seriousness that comes from wanting to understand every detail.

"How do you even know I watched Xiao Li's videos?"

"Last time you came to the hospital for a physical examination, you saw it on your phone in the waiting area."

In the video, Xiao Li is doing one-handed push-ups in the rain. You follow along in the waiting area and count to 157.

"The nurse called your name three times but you didn't hear me, so I had to come out and pull you inside." Chi Quan said this without looking up. He continued writing his training notes for the day in his notebook, then screwed the pen cap back on and put the notebook back in his canvas bag.

Kai paused for two seconds, then said, "The video cut out when he had done three hundred that day."

"Then you can continue watching today." Chi Quan stood up and tapped his cane on the wooden floor. "Today's rehabilitation is over."

Wrap the elastic bandage around your ribs before going to bed at night, not too tight, about two fingers loose.

I'll come again at nine o'clock tomorrow morning.

He picked up the canvas bag, walked to the door, and glanced back at Kai.

Kay was still sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room, holding the breathing trainer in his hand, like he was holding a new weapon he wasn't quite sure how to use.

Sunlight streamed in through the east-facing window of the Kai family home, illuminating his bare upper body and turning the beads of sweat on his skin into a thin, shimmering film.

"Oh, right." Chi Quan paused at the doorway, "Water that pothos on your balcony yourself after you can breathe freely to 80% depth."

Before that, I'll water it for you when I come tomorrow.

Kai turned to look at Chi Quan, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something.

But Chi Quan had already closed the door and left. The sound of a cane tapping the ground echoed in the corridor, moving towards the stairwell with a rhythm as even as a metronome.

One afternoon in the second week, Neji came to pick up Tenten for a follow-up examination. On the way back, the two took a detour and went to an open area near the mountains on the east side of Konoha.

There was a very large persimmon tree there, with a trunk so thick that it would take three people to encircle it, and branches that stretched out in all directions, covered with persimmons that were turning red.

The persimmons were not fully ripe yet, their color gradually changing from green to yellow to orange-red, and each persimmon still had dried calyxes hanging from its bottom.

Neji stopped under the persimmon tree.

It wasn't that he was tired from walking; his chakra had already recovered to about 70% of its normal level. The Hyuga clan's physique does indeed allow them to recover chakra faster than ordinary people.

He stopped because he saw a person under the tree.

An old woman sat on a rock under a persimmon tree, with a bamboo basket on her lap, which was half full of persimmons.

She held a photograph in her hand. The photograph was very old, with frayed edges and faded yellow color.

She looked down at the photo, her other hand rummaging through the basket as if looking for something, but she couldn't find it.

Neji walked over and squatted down in front of her.

"Grandma, what are you looking for?"

The old lady raised her head.

A grayish-white film covered her eyes, blurring the edges of her pupils. Her gaze wasn't focused on Neji's face but passed through him, landing on some uncertain distance.

Her hair was completely white, tied back with a dark blue ribbon. The ribbon's color had faded from washing, and a few loose threads were visible at the edges.

"I'm looking for a picture of my grandson." The old lady held up the picture in her hand for Neji to see—although she couldn't see where Neji was, she could feel someone squatting in front of her. "It's this little guy."

When he was a child, he loved eating the persimmons from this tree, and I would bring him here to pick them every autumn.

He's a great tree climber; he can climb to the highest branch, and I catch the persimmons he throws down from below in a basket.

But this photo is from summer; you see he's wearing a short-sleeved shirt and holding a dragonfly in his hand.

Neji looked at the photo.

The photo shows a seven or eight-year-old boy, smiling broadly, with one of his front teeth missing, holding the wing of a red dragonfly in his hand.

The dragonfly in the photo has turned yellowish, but you can still see the fine lines on its wings.

"Where is he?" Neji asked.

"He's in the Land of Iron." The old woman took the photo back and touched the boy's face in the photo with her thumb. "He went to do business with a caravan the winter before last and hasn't returned yet."

His father said he opened a shop over there, business was good, and he was too busy to come back.

But I always imagine that one day he will suddenly run back like he did when he was a child, running all the way from the village entrance to this persimmon tree, sweating profusely, and then shouting, "Grandma, I want to eat persimmons!"

So every autumn I come to this tree to wait for him.

I was thinking that if he came back and the persimmons weren't ripe yet, he wouldn't be able to eat them.

Tian Tian's footsteps were so light beside her that they were almost silent.

She walked to the persimmon tree, looked up at the tree full of persimmons, and then looked down at the basket on the old woman's lap.

"Grandma, let me pick some ripe ones for you." Tian Tian squatted down and spoke very softly, "Those at the top of the tree that face the sun should be ready to eat by now."

When the old lady heard Tian Tian's voice, she turned her head and smiled in the general direction of Tian Tian's voice.

The smile was faint, and the wrinkles on her face seemed to deepen within it, but her eyes held a warm glow.

"Thank you, little girl."

But the persimmons he loved to eat when he was a child only became sweet after the first frost; the ones picked now are too astringent.

I don't need you to pick them for me—I just came here to sit for a while.

As long as the tree is still there, I feel like he's still here.

He would sit down on a rock next to the old lady every day.

Neji stood beside them, leaning against the trunk of the persimmon tree, looking up at the persimmons that were turning red.

Sunlight filtered through the persimmon leaves, casting dappled, constantly shifting spots of light into his white pupils.

"When did he say he'd be back?" Tian Tian asked.

He said he would come back the following autumn.

Two autumns have passed now. The old lady reached into the basket and touched a persimmon. The persimmon was not fully ripe and felt rather hard.

She took out the persimmon, wiped it on the hem of her clothes, and handed it to Tiantian, "Here you go."

This fell on the ground the day before yesterday. I picked it up. It's a bit hard, but it's edible.

Try it.

Tian Tian took the persimmon and took a bite.

The persimmon was indeed astringent, so astringent that her tongue tightened for a moment, but she didn't frown.

She chewed twice, swallowed, and then said, "It's very sweet."

Neji looked at Tenten but didn't expose her.

In the days that followed, there were more and more cases of people searching for cats, dogs, persimmons, and dragonflies.

It wasn't because Konoha suddenly lost a lot of things, but because after the four of them returned from Pheasant Valley, Izumi couldn't use chakra, Guy couldn't do strenuous exercise, Neji couldn't overtrain during his recovery period, and Tenten was the fastest to recover among the four—the bandage on her head was removed, and the scar above her left eye had become a very thin white line, almost invisible.

But Jingzi said that her cornea was slightly scratched. Although it does not affect her vision, she needs to have regular check-ups.

The four people's activity range suddenly shrank from the battlefield and missions to the streets, parks, training grounds and persimmon trees of Konoha. They began to notice things they had never noticed before, such as a cat that ran up to the roof of the neighbor's house and couldn't get down, a grandfather who lost a hairpin left by his wife, and the uncle who sold roasted sweet potatoes at the entrance of the village who couldn't bend down to turn the sweet potatoes in the oven because of back pain.

These things are too insignificant for a ninja; they're so insignificant that they might not even qualify for a D-rank mission under normal circumstances.

However, the four of them happened to have no other missions at the moment, so the Hokage's office granted them a leave of absence. Dr. Shizuko's "medical confinement order" for Ikezumi covered a month during which he was not allowed to take on any missions that required chakra.

So they started doing these things.

Chi Quan's first "unofficial assignment" was to help a flower shop owner save a dying clivia plant.

The proprietress's surname is Yamaguchi. The flower shop is located on the corner of Konoha Commercial Street. The shop is small, but the flower rack at the entrance is always full of flowers.

Mrs. Yamaguchi's clivia was placed on the windowsill in the shop. The leaves turned from bright green to yellowish-brown, the tips of the leaves began to turn black and curl, and a layer of white mold grew on the soil surface at the base.

"I don't know what happened either." Mrs. Yamaguchi stood in front of the flowerpot, rubbing her hands repeatedly on her apron. "This clivia was left by my late husband. He passed away eight years ago."

For the past eight years, I have been watering and fertilizing according to the methods he taught me, and I have never had any problems.

The leaves suddenly turned yellow last month.

Chi Quan stood in front of the flowerpot, leaning on his cane, and looked down at it for about ten seconds.

He didn't touch the plant with his hands; he just looked at it—the color change pattern of the leaves, the distribution of the mold, and whether there were water stains in the drainage hole at the bottom of the pot.

Ten seconds later, he switched the cane to his left hand, reached into his pocket with his right hand, pulled out a small magnifying glass, and shone it on the back of the leaf.

What are your watering habits?

Water it once every morning.

"Even in winter?"

"Even in winter."

But I watered it less in winter.

"That's the problem." Chi Quan put away the magnifying glass and pointed with his cane to the drainage hole at the bottom of the flowerpot. "Clivia is native to South Africa and has fleshy roots that can store water."

You water it every morning in spring, summer, and autumn, barely keeping it within its tolerance range.

However, its metabolism slows down in winter, and the water in its fleshy roots cannot be consumed. If you continue to water it every day, the roots will start to rot.

If the roots rot, the leaves will turn yellow.

White mold is a secondary infection of root rot.

Mrs. Yamaguchi listened with wide eyes, her mouth moving for a long time before finally uttering the first sentence: "Where is South Africa?"

Chi Quan placed the canvas bag on the ground and took out a small bottle of diluted potassium permanganate solution, a small shovel, and a bag of freshly prepared nutrient soil.

He squatted down—his right leg couldn't bear his full weight while squatting, so he shifted his weight onto his left leg, kneeling on the flower shop's floor tiles with his right leg.

"First, cut off the rotten roots, then disinfect with potassium permanganate, and then replace with new soil."

After changing the soil, watering once a week is enough during winter.

As he spoke, he used a small shovel to lift the clivia out of the pot.

After the soil around the roots was turned over, a rotten smell permeated the air. Nearly half of the fleshy root had rotted away, and the rotten part had turned into a dark brown, soft, mushy, and easily broken paste.

Chi Quan took out a pair of scissors from his canvas bag. The blade of the scissors was very sharp. He held the root with his left hand and operated the scissors with his right hand, cutting off the rotten roots one by one, leaving the healthy white roots.

His hands were steady as he cut, each cut precisely at the boundary between rotten and healthy tissue, cutting neither too much nor too little.

Mrs. Yamaguchi watched as Ikezumi pruned the roots. Her flower shop was filled with the scent of lilies of the valley and damp earth, and the wind chimes hanging at the door occasionally tinkled in the breeze.

After watching for a while, she suddenly said, "Dr. Chi Quan, do you cut things like this in the hospital too?"

"More or less." Chi Quan didn't look up, continuing to precisely trim the roots with the scissors in his hand. "Human tissue and plant roots are similar on some levels. Both require the necrotic parts to be cleaned up, the healthy parts to be preserved, and then a clean, nutrient-rich environment to be given for them to regrow."

He put the cut clivia plants into a potassium permanganate solution to soak, and tiny bubbles rose in the pink solution in the glass bottle.

While the pot was soaking, he emptied the old soil from the flowerpot, scraped the mold off the inside of the pot with a shovel, laid a layer of broken tiles at the bottom of the pot as a drainage layer, and then filled it with freshly prepared nutrient solution.

The potting mix was something he prepared the night before last on his apartment balcony: leaf mold, perlite, and river sand in a 3:1:1 ratio, and he sifted it all through a sieve.

He soaked the clivia in the solution for fifteen minutes, then took it out and placed it on a clean gauze to dry its roots.

The cut surfaces of the roots turned light brown after being treated with potassium permanganate, and the rotten smell was gone, replaced by a clean smell with a slight hint of disinfectant.

He waited until the roots were half-dry—he could not feel any obvious water stains when he touched the surface of the roots with the back of his hand—before planting them in new soil, covering them with soil just half a centimeter above the junction of the rootstock and stem.