Blossoming Path 265. Reunited by Ruin

The steady shouts echoed across the training grounds long before I reached them.

The rhythm was familiar; feet stomping the ground, arms pivoting in sync... but the tempo had changed. Sharper. Heavier. More asured. These weren’t the wild, flailing swings of raw novices anymore. When I’d last trained here, many of the third-class disciples were smaller than .

Now I watched from the gate as shoulders squared with practiced strength and footwork stitched together in formation like embroidered thread.

Instructor Xia Ji barked sothing across the courtyard. A dozen disciples flowed into their final sequence with military precision, then broke rank in unison. “Cool down drills! No slacking on stretches! If you don’t want to cramp mid-battle, don’t act like toddlers!”

There was laughter. Only a little.

I waited quietly at the edge of the field. A few heads turned. One or two whispers, furrowed brows. Recognition dawned in fragnts. I didn’t interrupt. This wasn’t my place to walk into uninvited anymore.

Instructor Xia Ji finally caught sight of . When she reached , she smiled in a way that made the corners of her eyes crease just slightly.

“Kai.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “I heard what happened from the elders. I’m… glad you’re safe. And whole.”

I bowed low. “Your teachings helped shape the man who survived, Instructor Xia Ji. I owe more to you than I ever said before.”

She let out a breath. Not quite a sigh. Not quite pride. “Then say it now. And keep surviving.”

Before I could answer, two voices rang out from across the field; loud, overlapping, and unmistakably familiar.

“Kai!”

I turned just as Han Wei barreled toward . His shoulders were broader than I rembered, his neck thickened, and he now stood half a head taller than . The mont he reached , he clasped my forearm, then pulled into a one-ard hug.

Li Na followed close behind, her hair now neatly tied into twin buns. Her expression bounced between joy and disbelief.

“You’re back,” she said softly. “And you're so... different.”

I chuckled, though it ca out dry. “I could say the sa. You've both grown.”

Han Wei grinned, teeth flashing. “Of course! We’ve been training dutifully. Before the Interface went silent, we used it for every quest we could get our hands on. We've worked with the other sects to figure out how to trigger certain quests. Everyone’s gotten stronger. Ready to defend the sect whenever we’re needed.”

Li Na rolled her eyes, giving him a shove. “Ready for what? Third-class disciples don’t get deployed anywhere, rember? We’re still the last ones in line. They’ll call on the first and second-class before they even look at us.”

Their banter was light, but it twisted sothing in . I couldn't tell them the truth—that the silence of the Interface was my doing. That in protecting my village, I might have stripped away the one shield that had given all of us a chance against the cultists.

The thought sank into like a stone. I swallowed it down, forced a smile that felt hollow, and asked instead to catch up.

They did, as we walked with the others toward their next class. They told what I had missed. Second-class disciples had been moving constantly, deployed to reinforce sect lines or escort alchemists across plague-ravaged provinces. First-class disciples were stretched thin, too; called to subjugations, rescue efforts, and more. Elder Zhu and the Alchemy Pavilion had been working without pause, distributing cures to the furthest villages on the map. But Tranquil Breeze Farm was under watch now; a potential target, too critical to lose, its herbs vital to maintaining the cure.

When it was my turn, I shared my story. I tried to leave the more grueso details out, but I spoke of Pingyao, the Red Maw bandits, the Envoy in the forest, the Phoenix Tears, and everything in between. Even stripped bare, my words drew them into silence.

“…Was that too much of a downer?” I asked after a mont, trying to break the weight that had settled.

Han Wei shook his head. Li Na’s gaze was steady, her mouth set in a firm line. “It’s not that. It’s just… shocking. You went through all that, and you’re still standing. Sounds like sothing straight out of a myth, really.”

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Their words hung between us for a long mont before Han Wei leaned closer, voice lower. “Is it true, then? What the second-class disciples have been whispering? That you’ve already reached Essence Awakening?”

I t his eyes. No reason to deny it.

“Yes.”

They traded a quick glance, but before either could answer, the doors of the Alchemy Pavilion lood up ahead. Han Wei swore under his breath, tugging at Li Na’s sleeve.

“We’ll be late to Instructor Xiao-Hu’s lecture,” he muttered. “Wait for us after class. We’ll see for ourselves if you’re telling the truth.”

Li Na smirked, adjusting her buns. “Don’t think you can slip away before then.”

And just like that, they hurried off, disappearing into the Pavilion’s shadow. I watched them go, the echo of their laughter tugging at sothing warm and aching in my chest.

For a mont, I considered stepping inside too. I could make myself useful; lend my Essence Extraction to the alchemists, speed their processes with the Alchemical Nexus, bolster their dwindling stocks with Herbal Sage Alchemy. Elder Zhu and the Pavilion were working tirelessly; my skills would matter here.

But before I could move, my skin prickled. The faintest stir of grass at my feet whispered of soone approaching.

A voice reached first. Masculine. Teasing.

“Well, if it isn’t Qingmu's saviour.”

I turned, and my face broke into a genuine smile.

“Lan Sheng.”

The second-class disciple strolled toward , still carrying himself with that lazy swagger I rembered. His sleeves were rolled back, revealing forearms dusted with dried cuts.

“It’s been too long,” he said, clasping my arm with firm familiarity.

“Far too long,” I agreed. “Where have you been this ti?”

“On mission. We were sent to aid Falling Star Sect, south of Crescent Bay. Demonic cultists gutted their grounds. Not many survived. The lucky ones fled and found passage north.” His voice dropped, somber now. “They’re being sheltered in Crescent Bay for now. But the amount of death… I’ve seen villages fall before, but this? It was slaughter.”

I blinked. For once, Lan Sheng’s grin was gone, replaced by sothing rawer. A side of him I’d rarely seen.

“I’ll help however I can,” I said quietly. “At any cost. We can't let the cultists have their way any longer.”

That earned an appraising look. His grin returned, sharper this ti. “Big words. But can you back them up? Or are you going to fall on your face like last ti?”

I laughed under my breath. Despite the words, it lacked any sort of bite. “Is that a challenge?”

The next thing I knew, we were heading toward one of the side training courtyards, a place reserved for private sparring.

Lan Sheng rolled his shoulders, settling into stance. “We’ll keep it light. I’ll even give you the first three moves.”

I raised a brow. “You sure? Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

“I have,” he said easily. “That you’ve stepped into Essence Awakening. Good for you.” His smirk widened. “But don’t forget what happened last ti we fought. Cultivation rank doesn’t guarantee victory.”

He was right, of course. I knew it better than anyone; half my path had been clawing wins against those stronger than . Still… I’d grown. More than he could imagine.

I didn’t argue. I only lowered into stance.

Then I burst forward, my speed amplified by Floating Cloud Steps.

Perhaps Lan Sheng hadn’t expected to move so quickly. My first punch cut through the gap in his guard, forcing him to rear back. My next kick nearly swept his legs out from under him. He steadied himself with one arm on the stone floor, lashing out with a counter kick that I caught on my shin.

Predictable.

I raised a brow at him. “Weren’t you supposed to give the first three moves?”

Lan Sheng’s grin returned, tinged with disbelief. He pressed forward, steps sharper now, eyes narrowed as if re-evaluating entirely. His fists ca fast, his stance lower than I rembered; lean, efficient, without the sa ease that made a fool of so long ago.

He was stronger than before. Much stronger. The weight behind his blows, the crispness of his transitions... it all spoke of battles survived, scars earned against the cultists he’d ntioned. He moved like soone who had killed and narrowly escaped death in the sa heartbeat.

But I saw through it.

Every strike, every feint, my mind raced three moves ahead, filling the gaps and mapping the flow. I countered with the most efficient path, cutting off angles before they even opened like how Xu Ziqing taught. Step, pivot, parry—Lan Sheng’s attacks grew sharper the more I smothered them.

He frowned.

Then he tried sothing clever, snapping his foot against the edge of a training pillar, twisting his montum into an unexpected spin. For a mont, the kick might have caught another off-guard. But I t it cleanly, Rooted Banyan Stance grounding in place. My forearm blocked, my other hand flashing forward in a simple flick of my fingers.

A flick wreathed in faint fire.

The Heavenly Fla Mantra rippled across my knuckle, and the touch against his forehead sent him jolting back as if stung. He hissed, staggering.

“Shit—!” Lan Sheng cursed, shaking his hand where he’d tried to bat the fla aside. He stared at in disbelief, then barked out a disbelieving laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding . You’ve really gotten this strong?”

I straightened slowly, exhaling. “Months ago, you wiped the floor with . Seems tis have changed.”

He leaned on his knee, still catching his breath, then sank down to sit cross-legged on the stone. His grin returned, though softer this ti, shaded by curiosity. “Hell. I’ll admit it. You’ve outpaced . I'd say you're a real monster now, eh?”

I hesitated, then asked the question that had been nagging since the battle began. “What about Jian Feng?”

Lan Sheng tilted his head. “Jian Feng? The one sent to your village? The one that tattled on when he caught eating beef noodles in Crescent Bay?”

I didn't know about the last part, but nodded.

Lan Sheng thought for a mont, rubbing his chin. “He’s good. Upper half of the second-class, easy. Reliable in a fight, solid technique. But…” He shrugged. “He’s not the best. and Feng Wu still have the edge in raw combat.”

I didn’t answer. My mind drifted back to Jian Feng beside , standing against the Envoys. His strikes had carried a precision and weight beyond what Lan Sheng was showing now. Even wounded, he’d fought with an intensity that carved a gap through the cultists.

It wasn't just who had grown exponentially. Jian Feng had spent months in Gentle Wind's dense qi environnt, strengthened by my Golden Drop pills and refined dicines. He'd fought life-or-death battles against Envoys and cultists alongside .

And if that was true for Jian Feng...

Lan Sheng raised a brow at my silence. “Why ask, anyway?”

“...It’s just a passing thought,” I said instead, brushing the dust from my sleeves. “I’ve gone through a lot to get this far. t people I never thought I’d rely on. Xu Ziqing, for one.”

Lan Sheng blinked. Then he barked a laugh. “Xu Ziqing? That miser from the Silent Moon? Don’t tell he actually helped you. Hadn't the Silent Moon been the first one to get attacked by the cultist? How'd he end up in Gentle Wind?”

“It’s a long story. But yes. He beca an ally. More than that—he’s much, much stronger than you are right now.”

That got the reaction I expected. Lan Sheng let out a strangled squawk of indignance. “Stronger than ? Impossible. What the hell have you people been eating out there in Gentle Wind? On top of making you so powerful, it made you crazy as well!”

For the first ti in days, I laughed. Really laughed. “Later. I’ve got sothing else I need to do first. Let's catch up later?”

“Coward’s excuse,” Lan Sheng muttered. "Have fun then."

I left him there, still shaking his head, and made my way toward the Alchemy Pavilion. Its tall doors lood against the morning light, the faint scent of herbs and ash curling out into the courtyard. I pushed them open, the hinges groaning faintly, and stepped inside.

The air was warm, thick with dicinal fus. Tables were crowded with jars, pestles, and pill furnaces, each tended by disciples with weary faces and steady hands. The voice of instructors carried across the hall, sharp but encouraging, corralling half a dozen younger alchemists into order.

I slipped further in, scanning the rows of benches and shelves. If there was anywhere I could be useful, it was here.