Eating From Our Roots Novels & Stories

“Tragic. Really. Still no baby, too.” “I swear to the moon, Carrot—” I growled. She sipped her rose petal tea like a queen. “I’m just saying. You’ve got big goddess energy, darling. But your root chakra is… a mess.” “I have a root chakra?” I asked. “Of course,” Broccolini called from the other tree. “Yours squeaks.” “Oh great.” Still, despite the sass, the unsolicited opinions, the unsolicited parenting advice from a literal tuber, I listened. Because beneath the comedy was something real. Powerful.

Everything buzzed with energy. I could feel the change. We had become more than a crew. We were becoming founders. And every time I glanced at Callum, I felt it again—the warmth blooming in my chest like something inevitable. After we ate, we gathered in the observatory, where the seed now floated gently in the center, still encased but visibly sprouting the first signs of digital roots—spreading like veins of light across the vessel’s map. “The seed is syncing with the vessel,” I explained, projecting the latest readings with a wave of my hand. “It’s learning from our choices. From our bond. The more unified we are, the faster it grows.”

I didn't expect the banquet to be all about me. The room was packed with elites from all walks of life, and the vibe was electric. Mom kept dragging me around, introducing me to guest after guest. After the banquet, we headed to one of Cromwell Group's flagship restaurants, The Black Oak, for a family dinner. The restaurant was members-only, and eating there didn't come cheap. Dad suggested we book the whole place for ourselves, but I turned him down. People were enjoying their meals in the private rooms, and asking them to leave would have been rude.

She knocked against the wall. “Beautiful tree. Let me free. I need to eat and drink and breathe. Open the door, separate your roots so we can leave through you.” Stretching out her hand she shot one last burst of her intent to be free under the moon through her touch and held the roots. “Somethings happening Alpha! Look, the dirt moves!” Bradford scratched at the dirt and it moved a little faster. Soon a hole opened up and he stopped digging, “Raven, it seems as if the roots are shifting…Raven?”

George sat still and looked at Wilbur in astonishment. George prepared enough breakfast for ten people. He didn't expect that Wilbur would finish it all by himself. He mused to himself, 'Wilbur sure is a big eater. It seems this guy is quite extraordinary.' The physical strength of a cultivator had a lot to do with what they ate. The more food a cultivator ate, the stronger his physical strength was. The body was the foundation of one's cultivation. Having a good body would make one's cultivation improve faster.

These primordial spiritual roots were nurtured by heaven and earth at the earliest inception of the world, boasting effects surpassing even celestial herbs. While celestial herbs benefited true immortals, spiritual roots had effects on royal celestials. Eliza managed a spiritual root known as the Saturna Peach Tree. It took nine thousand years to grow, nine thousand years to bloom, and another nine thousand to mature—which means that one had to wait a staggering thirty-six thousand years to enjoy a single Saturna Peach! Just a sip could extend a mortal's life by a millennium, while a practitioner who consumed it would instantly ascend to immortality. For true immortals, a single bite could e