Blossoming Path

Tianyi flitted ahead, her movements sharp and deliberate, her antennae twitching as she retraced her footsteps. Behind me, the seventeen disciples of the Verdant Lotus Sect followed, their presence a mix of stoic determination and a tension that hung in the air like a held breath.

At the front of their group, Jian Feng moved with a speed and precision that belied the turmoil etched on his face. His usual air of confidence was gone, replaced by something raw, something broken. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed ahead as if avoiding any risk of meeting mine. His stride carried urgency, but there was no denying the weight of his steps.

I tried not to focus too much on him, but it was impossible not to notice the tightness in his shoulders, the faint tremor in his hands when he adjusted the hilt of his blade. The memory of my earlier anger toward him burned in my chest, sour and bitter. I had blamed him—yelled at him, even—for stopping me from running into the forest after my companions. At the time, his refusal had felt like arrogance, like a misplaced sense of control over the situation.

Now, as I watched him push forward, faster than the rest of his disciples could comfortably follow, I realized the truth. Jian Feng wasn’t infallible. I'd placed him on a pedestal, much like the older disciples, as people wiser and smarter than I was. But he’d been reeling, his world knocked off balance by the news of his comrades’ deaths.

Guilt gnawed at me, but there was no time to dwell on it. The pace he set was grueling, faster than I would have liked given the lingering weight of the tribulation on my body. My strengthened frame and newly increased qi reserves kept me moving, but I couldn’t ignore the sharp pull on my energy reserves. Every step required a touch of qi to counteract the oppressive weight I still bore, and though it wasn’t unbearable, it added up quickly.

Tianyi slowed briefly, glancing back at me. Her eyes narrowed in concern, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. I nodded at her, a silent assurance that I could keep up. Her antennae twitched, and she turned back to lead the way.

The disciples murmured faintly behind me, their voices hushed but laced with unease. I caught snippets of their conversation.

Three second-class disciples, dead. The first incident of this magnitude in years.

'If I never asked them to protect the village, then maybe...'

The first thing I noticed was the silence. It was absolute, oppressive, like the forest itself was holding its breath. Then the smell hit me; blood, heavy and metallic, mixed with something acrid and wrong.

Jian Feng froze as the scene came into view. The three disciples lay sprawled across the snow, their bodies twisted unnaturally. Their robes, once pristine and marked with the insignia of the Verdant Lotus Sect, were shredded and stained with dark streaks of blood. But it wasn’t just the sight of their injuries that made my stomach turn.

It was the flower.

At the center of the clearing, surrounded by the broken forms of the disciples, was something I could barely bring myself to name. It was shaped like a flower—or at least, some grotesque parody of one. Its petals were fleshy and raw, glistening in the faint light like exposed muscle. Dark, vein-like tendrils snaked along its body, pulsing faintly as if carrying some vile lifeblood. The veins extended outward, creeping across the snow like roots seeking sustenance. They touched the disciples’ bodies, and where they did, the decay was undeniable. Flesh sagged, clothing frayed, and even their once-pristine weapons seemed dulled.

The petals of the flower quivered slightly, as if breathing, and with every faint movement, a pulse of malevolent energy twisted the air around it. It pressed against my senses, slithering like an unseen fog.

It was feeding. Slowly but surely, it was absorbing everything; their blood, flesh, and even the very fabric of their robes. One of the disciples’ sashes had disintegrated entirely, leaving frayed threads that dissolved into nothingness the longer I stared.

I forced myself to look away, focusing instead on the faces of the fallen disciples. My chest tightened, the breath hitching in my throat as I recognized them.

I had known them—not well, but enough. These weren’t just faceless warriors who came and went from the village. They had patrolled our streets. Protected the people. Zhao Yun had taught the children simple self-defense techniques, his patience endless. Ning Xue... I barely knew her. She had passed through as the patrol late at night, offering a polite nod or an occasional comment about the weather. Nothing memorable, nothing profound. She was just there, another face in the village’s rhythm, part of the fabric of everyday life.

And now, she was gone.

Their faces were unrecognizable, twisted in agony, their features distorted by whatever dark energy had claimed them.

This was my first time seeing the dead. Not the peaceful kind, where age had taken its toll. Not like my parents, who were taken by illness. This was violent, sudden, wrong.

I tried to swallow, but my throat felt dry. A numbness settled over me, broken only by the faint tremble in my hands as I clenched my fists at my sides. My mind tried to process it, to reconcile the smiling faces I remembered with the grotesque reality before me.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Jian Feng’s voice shattered the silence, raw and trembling. “Zhao Yun,” he whispered, his knees buckling as he dropped beside the nearest body. His hand hovered above the disciple’s torn shoulder, trembling as if afraid to touch. “Ning Xue. Hua Cheng…”

Each name was a blow, punctuated by the grief in his voice. The other disciples stood in stunned silence, their expressions frozen in varying degrees of shock and horror. They didn’t speak, didn’t move. They simply stared at the scene before them, the unshakable foundation of their faith in the sect cracking under the weight of what they saw.

Jian Feng knelt beside the nearest body, his trembling hand hovering over the torn shoulder of Zhao Yun. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. The weight of the loss seemed to press him into the snow, his shoulders sagging under an invisible burden. His eyes closed for a moment, his breath hitching as he fought to steady himself.

He clenched his jaw, struggling to speak.

“What… what is this?” he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

I wanted to say something, anything, but the words stuck in my throat. My gaze was drawn back to the flower, its grotesque form a stark reminder of how little I understood. Its energy clawed at my senses, invasive and wrong, but beneath the revulsion, there was something more—an echo of the phrase Tianyi had repeated.

Praise the Heavenly Demon.

The phrase hung in my mind, heavy and unrelenting, like a storm cloud that wouldn’t disperse. There was something sinister about it, something that clawed at the edges of my thoughts and refused to let go. I turned back to the grotesque flower, my gaze lingering on the pulsing veins that snaked outward. The way they latched onto the fallen disciples, siphoning their essence… it wasn’t just wrong.

It was familiar.

I wracked my brain, my thoughts spinning through the tangled web of everything I’d read, seen, and experienced. Why did this seem familiar? Why did this grotesque flower, this abomination, feel like something I should know?

And then it hit me.

“The Grand Alchemy Gauntlet,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Jian Feng turned sharply, his grief momentarily pushed aside by the urgency in my tone. “What did you say?”

I didn’t answer immediately. My mind had already latched onto the memory, dragging it into the light. The preliminaries, where I’d been tested on my knowledge of herbs and ingredients. There had been one I couldn’t identify, no matter how hard I tried. Its withered, grotesque form had stood out even among the rarest of specimens. Zhi Ruo's voice came to mind.

'Ah, yes. That… that would be a—'

"Bloodsoul Bloom. That's the flower."

The resemblance was undeniable, though the one I’d seen in the Gauntlet had been a dried husk compared to this monstrous thing.

“What do you know about it?” Jian Feng pressed, his voice tight with urgency.

“It’s… it’s from the Gauntlet,” I said finally, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “The one I saw was dried, withered. They don’t grow like normal herbs. They subsist off blood. They were found in the territory of demonic cultivators—to siphon life force and qi, to fuel their rituals.”

I saw Jian Feng’s expression shift. The devastation in his eyes gave way to something colder, sharper. Fear, anger, realization.

The second-class disciple's jaw tightened, his knuckles pale as his hand hovered over his blade. His grief was momentarily eclipsed by something else—a rising urgency, a flickering rage barely contained beneath the surface.

“We need to destroy it,” he said, his voice sharp and commanding. “If what you say is true, this abomination can’t be allowed to remain.”

“Wait,” I interjected, my voice steady but firm. Jian Feng turned toward me, his expression darkening, but I pressed on. “Destroying it won’t help us understand it. We need to study it, to figure out how to counter it. If this flower was planted here intentionally, destroying it now means losing a chance to learn its purpose.”

“And if it spreads?” he snapped. “If its roots burrow into the earth, if it takes hold of the forest? You think you can outpace that kind of corruption with your experiments?”

His words stung, but I forced myself to stay calm. “It hasn’t spread beyond what it’s already claimed,” I said. “Not yet. Look around you. It’s feeding off the bodies and the ground here, but it’s contained. If we handle it carefully, I can keep it that way.”

Jian Feng’s eyes narrowed, his frustration clear, but I saw the hesitation in his stance.

“You’re saying you can contain this thing? That you can learn something the sect can’t?”

“No,” I said simply. “It's because I’m the closest alchemist you have. The sect is days away, and we don’t even know if they’ve dealt with something like this before. But I’ve studied plants for a lifetime. I know their patterns, how to isolate them. Let me handle this.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but his words faltered. For a moment, I saw the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight of the losses he’d borne. “Fine,” he said finally, his voice low and taut. “But if it shows even a hint of spreading, we burn it. Understood?”

“Understood,” I said.

The disciples shifted uneasily, their gazes darting between me and the flower as though expecting it to lash out at any moment. They carefully approached the bodies of their fallen comrades, their movements deliberate and reverent. With blades glowing faintly with qi, they cut away the grotesque veins latched onto the corpses. The tendrils recoiled slightly, releasing their grip with an unsettling wet sound before falling limp.

I turned to Tianyi. “Do you remember anything about the person you fought? Did they have anything on their person?”

She hesitated, her antennae twitching as she glanced at the fallen disciples. “I didn’t check, I was focused on getting Windy and myself out.”

“Then we need to search them,” I said, gesturing toward the hooded figure’s body. “If they had more seeds or anything else, we need to know.”

Jian Feng gave a terse nod, motioning for two disciples to join us. Together, we approached the corpse.

The figure’s body lay in two halves, their dark robes soaked in blood that had turned the snow beneath them into a blackened slush. Their hood had slipped back, exposing a grotesque visage.

The face that greeted us was inhumanly unsettling. It was a woman—or what had once been one. Her disheveled hair clung to her scalp in patches, strands tangled with dried blood. The corners of her cracked lips curled unnaturally, as though frozen in a fractured smile.

Tianyi pointed to a satchel at her side, its strap barely hanging onto her shoulder. One of the disciples hesitated, then carefully cut the strap and opened the bag. Inside were several small, dark seeds, their surfaces veined with the same sinister pattern as the Bloodsoul Bloom.

Jian Feng’s expression darkened further as he inspected them. “We’ll send these back to the sect immediately,” he said. “They need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“And I’ll keep the live sample,” I added, gesturing toward the flower. “I need it to figure out how to counter whatever this is.”

He turned to his disciples, barking orders. “Cut the flower carefully, roots and all. Pack it securely. Five of you will escort the bodies, the flower, and the seeds back to the village.”

The disciples moved with grim efficiency, their movements precise and careful as they worked to separate the grotesque veins from the bodies. I couldn’t bring myself to watch for long, my gaze drifting instead to the darkened forest beyond.

“There’s still one more,” Tianyi said, her voice quiet but insistent. “The one Windy fought. It’s further in.”

Jian Feng straightened, his expression sharpening. “Lead the way."

We followed Tianyi deeper into the forest, the tension mounting with every step.

She trekked several li into the heart of the wilderness. My fists clenched. Hard enough to draw blood.

'After dispatching of the monster that killed three disciples, she continued to press on.'

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. This deep into the forest, the air was different. Heavier. The trees loomed taller, their gnarled branches twisting into shapes that blocked the faint light of the moon.

They had been alone, fighting an opponent strong enough to push them this far, while I had been pacing the edge of the forest like a helpless fool.

Tianyi moved ahead, her wings folded tightly against her back, her antennae twitching as she scanned for the location of the battle. Despite her confident pace, there was a tension in her posture, a stiffness that hadn’t been there before. She knew the way, but I could tell even she wasn’t comfortable being here.

The Verdant Lotus Sect disciples followed in silence, their expressions grim and their hands hovering near their weapons. Jian Feng remained at the front of the group.

Tianyi slowed, her wings fluttering faintly as she tilted her head. “We’re close,” she said softly.

Her words sent a ripple of tension through the group. I focused ahead, the faint outlines of a clearing becoming visible through the dense trees. She paused at the edge, her antennae twitching rapidly as she scanned the area.

When we stepped into the clearing, Tianyi froze.

I stiffened, watching her gaze sweep the clearing.

“It’s not here,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Jian Feng was beside her in an instant. “What do you mean, ‘not here’?” he demanded, his voice sharp.

“The body. It’s… gone.”