Blossoming Path
Chapter 198: A Myth of a Myth

The words hung in the air like a blade suspended by a thread.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. My mind struggled to process everything Xu Ziqing had just said. The invasion. The collapse of the Silent Moon Sect. The way the mainland elders had fled, abandoning everything in their wake.

It was one thing to hear it from a messenger.

It was another to hear it from a man who had lived it.

Xu Ziqing was composed, his voice even, his posture as steady as ever. But as I studied him closer, I saw it—the faintest tremor in his fingers as he traced the rim of his tea cup. The way his jaw clenched just a little too tightly, as if he had to physically restrain himself from speaking too quickly, from allowing emotion to leak into his words.

Ping Hai, the broad-shouldered warrior trembled, his massive hands gripping his thighs so tightly his knuckles turned bone-white. His breath came in slow, deliberate exhales, as if he was forcing himself to stay grounded, to stay in control. But his body betrayed him.

This was not the fear of an inexperienced cultivator.

This was the fear of a man who had seen something so utterly beyond him that no amount of strength could fight it.

I opened my mouth to say something, but Xu Ziqing spoke first.

“The mainland elders ran first,” he said flatly. “Whatever knowledge they had of the cult, whatever reason they were being targeted—they weren’t willing to stay and fight for it.”

“And Sect Leader Jun?” I asked.

“Didn't know where he was during the battle,” There was something unreadable in Xu Ziqing’s tone. “He made the call to abandon the outlying regions afterward. To withdraw all surviving disciples and consolidate.”

I clenched my fists beneath the table.

Consolidate. That was a nice way of saying they left people to die.

The table felt unbearably small.

“We had the entire sect at our backs. We had elders. Formation masters. Trained disciples. The Silent Moon Sect was not weak. When the cultists turned their backs on us to give chase to the mainland elders, we had a chance. A chance to strike.”

His fingers finally stilled on his cup.

“And yet,” he murmured, “we couldn't find it within us to fight back.”

A chill crawled up my spine. The great Silent Moon Sect, brought to its knees. Not by overwhelming numbers, not by strength, but by sheer, mind-numbing terror.

Jian Feng’s composure finally cracked. He slammed a hand against the table, shaking the cups slightly. “Then why were they being chased?” he demanded. “The cultists. What were they looking for?”

Xu Ziqing didn’t immediately answer. His gaze flickered briefly toward Ping Hai before settling back on us.

Then, he said it.

“Phoenix Tears.”

A sharp inhale came from the side of the room. One of the second-class disciples stiffened.

Miao Hu.

The man missing a finger slowly sat up straighter, his face pale. “That… that’s just a myth.”

I looked at him sharply. “You know of it?”

Miao Hu hesitated, his throat bobbing slightly. “Everyone does,” he said finally. “The Phoenix is one of the Four Celestial Beasts. It represents rebirth, renewal. But its tears…” His voice wavered. “That’s a myth of a myth.”

The tension in the room deepened.

Jian Feng leaned forward. “Explain.”

Miao Hu swallowed. His missing finger twitched slightly as he tapped his good hand against the table, as if trying to recall the exact words. “The legend says Phoenix Tears are the ultimate medicine,” he said carefully. “An elixir among elixirs. A single drop is said to heal the most grievous wounds, restore limbs, and cure age-old ailments. Two drops…” He hesitated. “Two drops can cure anything short of death itself.”

A heavy silence followed.

My thoughts spun rapidly. Phoenix Tears. Something so potent that it defied even the best alchemical creations.

I frowned. “How could the mainland elders possibly have gotten their hands on something like that?”

Jian Feng shook his head. “That’s assuming they even had it. The demonic cult clearly believed they did.”

That, more than anything, unsettled me.

Because if the cultists had believed the Phoenix Tears existed, then the question became—

“Why would they want it?” Elder Ming murmured, echoing my thoughts aloud.

None of us spoke.

I could feel it, the answer sitting in the back of my mind like a weight I wasn’t ready to acknowledge. But the silence stretched longer, thick with unspoken dread, until finally, I forced myself to say it.

“…To revive their god.”

No one spoke.

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The meaning was clear. The ruins’ warning—Don’t let them win—it wasn’t just about stopping the cult.

It was about preventing the resurrection of the Heavenly Demon.

Because if the cultists were already this dangerous, if even their lowest-ranking members were so terrifyingly resilient, if the Envoy I had fought was a mere glimpse of what they could become…

Then what did it mean for the Heavenly Demon himself?

My blood ran cold.

The Envoy had been beyond anything I’d ever faced. His mere presence had warped the battlefield, twisting the air with the weight of his aura. It took the combined effort of Tianyi, Windy, and over a dozen second-class disciples to keep him at bay. The only reason we even won was due to him taking the full brunt of the explosive Bloodsoul Bloom essence I created.

And he was just one man.

A servant.

A fragment of something greater.

I swallowed, my throat dry. My mind flashed back to the ruins, to the desperate warnings left behind by the ones who had come before.

If the path to ascension was meant to be walked, it had to be walked together.

We built this to raise the world, not to shackle it.

They had known what would happen if the cult succeeded. If the Interface was corrupted. If the wrong hands seized it.

And now, centuries later, the cult was on the verge of succeeding.

A low murmur broke the silence. Jian Feng, still stiff with tension, muttered, “This is madness.”

Another second-class disciple cursed under his breath.

I clenched my fists under the table. “If the Phoenix Tears really exist,” I said slowly, “then it means they’ve been preparing for this for a long time.”

It meant this wasn’t just a recent development. It wasn’t just some cultists gathering power over the past few decades.

It was a plan spanning generations.

Xu Ziqing exhaled through his nose. “I’m not finished.”

I looked up at him sharply.

He met my gaze, unreadable as always. “After we left the sect, we traveled to Qingmu. That’s when I learned you were here.”

I stilled. “You came looking for me?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Call it coincidence. Or call it fate. Pingyao is not far from here.”

Something about the way he said that sent a prickle down my spine.

Xu Ziqing set his cup down, fingers pressing against the ceramic rim. “Either way, I’ve come to collect a debt.”

“A debt,” I echoed.

“I saved you back at the Grand Alchemy Gauntlet.”

My jaw tightened.

That was true.

Back at Narrow Stone Peak, when I had been cornered, when the disciples had been moments away from attacking me while I was surrounded, it was Xu Ziqing who had stepped in.

I took a slow breath, keeping my voice even. “What do you want?”

He leaned forward slightly. “Elixirs.”

I blinked. “...Huh?”

He didn’t react to my surprise. “I want medicine. Potent ones. We’re protecting Pingyao, and we’re barely managing as we are. We fought off three cultists before arriving, but suffered heavy wounds in the process.”

As if to emphasize his point, he pulled back his robe slightly, revealing the deep scars still lining his arms and torso. The faint, lingering traces of demonic qi corruption crawled along his skin, dark and insidious.

I exhaled sharply. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

Xu Ziqing’s lips twitched. “Would you have been this agreeable if I had?”

I narrowed my eyes at him but didn’t argue. He was probably right.

Ping Hai, silent until now, finally spoke. “We need your help, Kai Liu. Please, it's for my family.”

I studied them both.

The Silent Moon Sect had failed them. The mainland elders had failed them. Even their own leader had turned his back on them.

But despite everything, despite the destruction, they were still fighting.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Fine.”

Xu Ziqing’s expression didn’t change, but I could see the tension in his shoulders ease ever so slightly.

“Bring Ping Hai with you,” I said. “We’ll see what I can do.”

He nodded.

The moment we stepped into my shop, I was already moving.

"Take off your robes," I ordered, not waiting for them to comply as I rummaged through my drawers for supplies. "And your hoods. I need to see exactly what I’m dealing with."

Xu Ziqing and Ping Hai hesitated for a fraction of a second before wordlessly complying. The heavy fabric slid from their shoulders, revealing the extent of their injuries.

Even beneath the dim lighting, it was clear—their bodies were carved with scars. Old wounds, healed over time, and new ones, poorly treated. Some looked fresh, others barely closed, but all bore the lingering taint of demonic qi. It clung to them like a sickness, slow and festering. It was a wonder how they made it here without collapsing, or even showing any signs. I suppose that was a sign of their resillience.

The bandages and gauze they’d used were amateur work, done with steady hands but lacking proper materials. They had done their best, but it wasn’t enough.

"Where did you even get these supplies?" I muttered, peeling away a strip of cloth that had fused to dried blood.

"Qingmu's physician," Ping Hai admitted. "He tried."

I discarded the soiled wrappings and reached for a cloth, dousing it in a bucket of essence-purifying elixir diluted in water. The moment the liquid made contact, the demonic qi sizzled, dissipating like mist under sunlight.

Both men tensed.

"Brace yourselves," I warned.

I didn’t wait for them to respond before working swiftly, wiping away every last trace of corruption. The elixir burned as it purified, searing the wounds before allowing them to properly close.

Ping Hai flinched.

Xu Ziqing, to his credit, remained composed, but his hands curled into fists.

I nodded toward Tianyi. "You’re up."

She stepped forward without a word, placing a palm against Xu Ziqing’s back first. A faint glow shimmered at her fingertips as healing qi flooded into him.

His breath hitched.

The qi mended his wounds in an instant, knitting flesh back together, sealing open gashes. When she finished, she moved to Ping Hai, repeating the process.

The moment the corruption was gone, both men exhaled—almost as if they had been holding their breath this entire time.

I dug into my storage ring, retrieving the last of my Golden Drop Pills. I placed two in my palm and extended them.

"Here," I said. "They’re body refinement pills. They’ll accelerate your healing, but more importantly, they’ll help stabilize your foundations after all that damage."

They hesitated.

I understood why. Cultivating was an act of focus, but also vulnerability. Letting your guard down in unfamiliar territory, especially while recovering, was a risk. If anything happened while they were meditating, they’d be defenseless.

Elder Ming's shattered dantian flashed in my mind.

Xu Ziqing was the first to move. He accepted the pill and swallowed it without a word. Ping Hai followed after a beat of hesitation.

I stood, gesturing toward the corner of my shop where I had placed two padded mats.

"Tianyi, Windy, and I will keep watch."

Still, they hesitated.

I let out a breath. "You trusted me to treat you. Trust me to make sure nothing happens while you recover."

That seemed to settle them. Slowly, they sat, closing their eyes, slipping into cultivation.

Hours passed.

I worked in the silence.

With every passing moment, I took stock of my ingredients, assessing what I had and what I needed. We had gathered many herbs over the past few weeks, and my garden had flourished under my care, but I’d still have to make choices.

I couldn’t afford to waste anything.

By the time Xu Ziqing finally stirred, I had already begun preparing.

He shifted slightly, blinking the haze of cultivation from his eyes before focusing on me.

"You’re still working?" he asked.

I glanced at him. "Of course."

He exhaled, stretching his limbs before sitting upright. He inspected his arm, rolling his shoulder experimentally. "I didn’t expect this level of treatment. Thank you."

I shrugged, pouring a solution into a small ceramic bowl. "No worries."

There was an awkward silence as I continued to mix and refine. We weren't friends. Far from it. Our relationship had been tenuous from the day I met him in Qingmu, to the day I fought Ping Hai for the beast core, and now. But I couldn't fully bring myself to hate him.

I set down my mortar and pestle. "You already know how this works. The more time I have, the better medicine I can make. If you’re in a rush, the quantity will be limited."

The second-class disciple was silent for a moment. Then, he nodded. "Then... three days. We'll heal our wounds, and strengthen ourselves before we make our way to the village. But the sooner the better."

I nodded back. That was manageable.

I straightened, cracking my neck as I stretched. "Good."

Xu Ziqing followed as I stepped outside, the cold air hitting us the moment we left the shop. We walked in silence toward the greenhouse.

I slid the door open, stepping inside. Warmth enveloped me instantly, and he lingered by the entrance, glancing around.

"A greenhouse? Quite the luxury," he remarked.

I knelt by one of the beds, running my hands over the soil. "Built it after the Gauntlet. Though Narrow Stone Peak almost destroyed it when they came."

He blinked. "What?"

I summarized the situation as best I could. While doing so, I reached toward a cluster of herbs, pressing my palm against the stalks.

Qi pulsed from my fingertips, flowing into the plants.

They responded instantly, leaves trembling as their essence matured in mere moments. Their colors deepened, their scents thickening in the air.

Xu Ziqing observed in silence, watching as I moved from plant to plant, carefully selecting the ones I would use.

"I take back what I said back then."

I glanced at him briefly before returning to my work. "Which time?"

"When I called you just some herbalist," he said. "You’re not."

I didn’t respond immediately. Instead, I focused on the herbs before me, assessing their growth, selecting the ones best suited for the elixirs I needed to make.

Finally, I exhaled. "I am."

I met his gaze, calm but firm. "I am a herbalist. I am also an alchemist. And a cultivator. I take pride in my identity as a whole."

His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to argue, but in the end, he said nothing.

I straightened, dusting off my hands, and then turned fully to face him. "So now that we’ve cleared that up, tell me—why are you doing this?"

"Ping Hai, I understand. This is his home. His family is there. But you? You were one of Sect Leader Jun’s most loyal men. I saw it at the Gauntlet. I saw it in how you carried yourself. I figured if he ordered you to consolidate, you would’ve done it without question. So why are you here? Why risk yourself?"

For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer.

Then, Xu Ziqing closed his eyes and let out a slow sigh. "Maybe a year ago, I wouldn’t have."

I watched him carefully.

"When I joined the Silent Moon Sect, I believed in its strength. I believed in our principles. In our ethos. That if we followed the structure, we would thrive." His jaw tightened slightly. "But the things I saw… the things I heard that night…"

He trailed off.

For the first time, I saw it.

Doubt.

Not the wavering uncertainty of a lost man, but the reluctant acceptance of someone who had been forced to confront something ugly—something that had shattered his foundation and left him with no choice but to change.

He met my gaze, his voice quieter this time.

"Maybe I’m being naive. Maybe I’m grasping at something that’s already lost. But… I’d like to think that doing the right thing still means something."

I stared at him for a long moment.

Then, finally, I nodded.

The conversation ended there, but the message of his words lingered.