We spoke softly at Hua Lingsheng’s family inn, voices kept low beneath the creak of old timbers and the muffled clink of dishes. The room was warm but quieter than I rembered, the tables emptier. Plates held smaller portions, and though the Lingsheng family offered us their best, I could see how the long months without trade or harvest, followed by the Athyst Plague, had worn them thin.
Feng Wu sat across from , eyes thoughtful as I finished recounting my story.
I told him first about the cultists in the forests; the ambush, our frantic fight with the Envoy, and how we managed to save three converts along the way. I told the convert's stories, how the cult used Bloodsoul Blooms to reshape their victims into sothing new, obedient, zealous.
I talked of how Pingyao fell not long after. My throat tightened ntioning Ping Hai. There was a respectful silence between us as I composed myself enough to continue.
Then the Red Maw. I kept my voice steady, but even as I described the careful subjugation of the bandits, I hesitated. The lines between right and wrong had blurred that day. Tianyi and Windy had fought alongside , not because they wanted to, but because I had no other choice. It had taken days for to shake the weight of what I’d asked them to do, even though it had saved lives.
Feng Wu took in every word without judgnt. When I finally paused, he drew a breath and shared what he’d seen.
The Verdant Lotus Sect had been fighting back, he explained, disrupting cultist activities where they could. The Whispering Wind sect, led by their sect leader and Tian Zhan, who reportedly had undergone an awakening, spear-headed the crusade against the cultists.
They conducted research to see if they could glean ways to defeat the cultists, but there wasn't much to go off; half-forgotten accounts, scribbled in faded journals hidden deep in the sect’s archives. Legends from centuries ago, passed down like echoes through generations, barely surviving to reach us.
His voice dropped lower as he recounted what he rembered from those texts. The Heavenly Demon had once threatened not just our province but places far beyond it; lands across the mainland, cities and sects a hundred tis stronger than ours. The stories said their battles had reshaped the earth itself. Entire dynasties were wiped from existence, leaving only scars and broken histories behind.
But those were stories, Feng Wu cautioned. Second-hand tales that bordered on myth. Yet, they were enough to remind of what Xu Ziqing had already told ; the cultists had attacked the Silent Moon Sect for the Phoenix Tears. And from the carvings I’d seen in the cave where I first activated the Interface, I knew these Tears were key. Key to sothing old and terrible. Perhaps even the revival of their god.
I didn’t ntion the Interface or how it guided , only that it matched what I’d learned. Feng Wu’s eyes darkened with understanding.
Before we could continue, Hua Lingsheng stepped in quietly, setting down a fresh plate of simple stead buns. His mother hovered near the kitchen door, her smile tired but genuine.
I took only one bun and ate slowly, deliberately. When I finished, I gently pushed the plate away and looked up at the boy.
“I’m full,” I said softly, giving him a warm smile. “Thank you, Lingsheng.”
The boy nodded happily, gathering the dishes and retreating back into the kitchen. Feng Wu gave a knowing look; he’d noticed the sa thing. These small gestures ant more now, given so freely even as their own reserves dwindled.
The silence stretched between us, filled with the weight of everything unsaid. Eventually, Feng Wu leaned forward slightly, eyes serious.
“Kai, tell honestly. When you said you encountered an Envoy… was it truly one of them?”
I t his gaze, and without hesitation, nodded.
"Yes," I said quietly. "It was real. We nearly died. If it wasn’t for a fluke..."
I paused, fingers brushing the edge of my shoulder instinctively.
"We only won because I managed to create a bomb using the combined energy of multiple Bloodsoul Blooms; detonated it mid-fight. Even then, it was barely enough. One wrong move and we all would've died there."
My hand hovered over the spot on my shoulder that had long since healed.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"Tianyi, Windy, more than a dozen Verdant Lotus disciples. Even with all of them, we only just scraped through."
Feng Wu leaned back, disbelief flickering across his face. "And you… reached the Essence Awakening stage? After all that?"
I raised a brow at him. "Do you want to prove it?"
He shook his head, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I don’t need to. I can see it. You’re not the sa boy who tried to impress Lady Xiao Yun with his concoctions. The way your energy spills out... even soone blind to cultivation could tell. And the fact you ran here from Gentle Wind dragging a loaded carriage in half the ti it takes on horseback?"
I shrugged. "Stamina pills help."
I finished the last of my soup and set the bowl down with care. Then I turned to Lingsheng’s family and bowed my head.
"Thank you again for the al."
I stood. The night pressed heavy beyond the window, but my path was clear.
Feng Wu stood too, brows furrowed. "You're leaving already? It's the middle of the night, Kai. Rest. Let co with you."
I paused at the door, then turned back, gaze settling on him.
"I appreciate it. But this montum matters. We both have our roles to play, and right now... individually, we can cover more ground."
He frowned, clearly wanting to argue.
I smiled slightly, gesturing to the open window where the wind stirred the curtains.
"But do I look like I’m going alone?"
Outside, the forest stirred.
The moss leaned toward . The trees shifted subtly, as though waiting. The wind itself seed to part for my path. Through Viridescent Sovereignty, I felt it all. The soil beneath my feet, the roots stretching outward, the quiet breath of life leaning in my direction.
SCENE BREAK
With the supplies left in Qingmu and only a few spare vials of the Violet Bloom Antidote tucked into my storage ring, my stride felt lighter than ever.
The wind t like an old friend as I slipped into the treeline, the forest swallowing in shadow. But even in darkness, I didn’t falter.
Every step echoed with certainty, my footfalls finding the path before my eyes even finished tracking it. Ren Zhi’s training in junction with my communion with nature made it feel like I was walking in an open field during broad daylight. I avoided roots, weaving between low-hanging branches, and for a split-second, I could feel them veer away from too. As though they were opening a path for .
Still, sothing prickled.
Not danger. Not quite.
More like tension. That feeling just before a volatile ingredient ignites on its own. I knew that feeling; it had lived in my hands before countless concoctions. From a lifeti of alchemy, before the Refinent Simulation technique made all the warnings more clear.
I didn’t know what.
It just remained that; a sensation. Of sothing coming.
So I pushed harder.
Qi surged to my legs. It layered over my tendons and bones like armor forged from breath and will. The night stretched out before , silent and empty; and I sprinted through it, leaping across narrow streams, vaulting low branches, carving li after li in bursts of motion.
Behind , the trees settled. Before , the land opened.
But my footing never faltered. I ran. And the forest ran with .
By the ti the first brushstrokes of dawn painted the sky in soft gray, I could see the familiar silhouette of Gentle Wind Village cresting the distant ridge. My breath ca rougher now.
Even with Essence Awakening coursing through , even with Black Tortoise Endurance whispering strength into my every stride, this had a cost.
I slowed as I reached the outer slope overlooking the valley. My legs ached; not just with fatigue, but with the dull, reverberating echo of qi expenditure pushed far past its natural rhythm. My lungs burned in that quiet way that ca after the adrenaline faded.
And sothing was wrong.
I narrowed my eyes.
The village entrance was rarely active at this hour. But now, five disciples of the Verdant Lotus Sect stood alongside Jian Feng, looking slightly worse for wear. Their expressions were drawn tight. Their hands hovered near hilts and clasps, not the posture you'd have when expecting guests.
They were a defensive line.
Xu Ziqing stood at their center. His arms were crossed, jaw tight, shoulders square. The ghost of sothing bitter twitched at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes… they were ice, fixed forward with such intensity that the others took their cue from him.
Han Chen was closest to the figure beyond the path. His fists clenched and unclenched with a rhythm that spoke of tightly managed restraint.
And the figure they faced—
He stood with his back to , frad by the tree-lined edge of the road like a shadow that had finally taken shape.
His robes were threadbare and stained. Layers hung in tatters around a fra more bone than flesh. Each movent, even the smallest shift of weight, carried a fatigue so thick I could feel it even from here.
Yet the weight in the air had nothing to do with frailty.
It had to do with presence.
There was sothing clinging to him. A shroud of qi, rotted and faint.
I slowed my approach, just beyond the slope, letting my senses stretch with Viridescent Sovereignty. Letting the grass and trees carry the faint sound of their conversation, giving a clearer picture of what was going on over the horizon.
“I didn’t co to fight,” he rasped, each word digging out of his throat like stones dragged uphill. “Just the cure. Please.”
His voice was rough. Fractured. But not without pride.
One of the Verdant Lotus disciples raised their voice—asured, firm. “Na. Affiliation.”
A pause followed. The man’s back shifted slightly, as if drawing breath was a battle in itself.
Then he said it.
“Cheng. Elder of the Silent Moon.”
The na dropped like a stone into still water.
“Cheng,” Xu Ziqing echoed, like tasting ash on his tongue. His arms, usually folded with calm precision, fell to his sides. His fingers curled slowly, not into fists, but into the poised tension of a sword returning to motion after too long in the scabbard. "Still calling yourself an elder? After fleeing the Silent Moon while we burned?”
Cheng didn’t turn. His head dipped, barely. Not quite a bow. Not quite sha.
“I don’t expect forgiveness,” he rasped. “Just give the cure, and I'll levae you be.”
Sothing flared behind Ziqing’s eyes; just for a second. An old scar reopened. And in it, I saw sothing rare in him.
Rage.
The weight of his voice was steel, not raised in anger, but carved by old, unburied resentnt.
I felt the breath catch in my throat.
Cheng.
One of the four.
Cheng. Xun. Fang. Wei.
The nas Xu Ziqing had spoken with bitterness, back when he told the truth of the Silent Moon’s fall. The four elders from the mainland who fled before the cult struck, abandoning the disciples and leaving the sect in ruins.
And now… one of them stood outside my village.
Xu Ziqing stepped forward. His arms dropped to his sides.
“You don’t get to speak of cures,” he said. “Not when your hands helped plant the seeds of this plague. Not when your flight left bodies in your wake.”
Cheng did not turn. But he did not deny it.
“Believe what you will,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t co to justify. I ca… because I have nowhere else to go.”
Han Chen’s eyes narrowed. The disciples were tense now, their feet inching forward, a slow tightening of the cord.
And I was moving.
Faster now. The mont clicking into place.
The grass underfoot bent with . The wind rushed at my back. My heartbeat surged, my breath shallow.
Reviews
All reviews (0)