My Unexpected Whip-Wielding Dao Companion

Huan pressed her bare feet into the moving water and forced her breathing to stay even. The courtyard stones were cold. Her sleeves were wet. Her father stood watching, and she could feel the old shame in his silence. Born with a water root and a fire root that the testers called a dead end, she had been told she would never pass the first gate of power training. Yet when she guided both roots at once, the herbs in her hand changed color, her pulse settled, and a dim charm in her sleeve flared at the corner like a tiny sun. Huan was a healer, a poison maker, and a girl who remembered every wall she had ever climbed for practice. The same instinct now helped her read people. Smooth faces. Loo...