Blossoming Path-262. Leaving

I couldn’t hear it anymore.

That quiet hum at the back of my mind. The flicker of presence just beneath my awareness. The Interface hadn’t spoken to me often, but it had always been there, looming like the sun behind clouds, waiting to shine through when I needed it.

Now there was nothing.

I kept running. My feet struck the earth with unrelenting rhythm, breath ragged, body aching. But I couldn’t stop; not yet. Not until I reached the Verdant Lotus Sect. Not until I passed on everything I knew.

I had regrets. Too many to name. But every time my thoughts circled back to that unused Technique Token, a bitter taste rose in my throat. I’d saved it, thinking I had time. As if time had ever been on our side.

I thought I could afford to wait.

"Stupid."

All I had now were the fragments of strength I’d received before the Interface vanished. Nothing new. No guidance. No rewards.

Just me.

The sky had begun to shift to gold by the time the exhaustion caught up with me. I stumbled to a stop near the crest of a hill, legs trembling. The horizon sprawled outward; rolling hills dappled with violet-tinged haze, like a bruise that never healed. The Amethyst Plague had stained the land.

I dropped to my knees.

The grass was brittle. The soil, warm and slightly sticky beneath my fingers. Some things were trying to grow again. Others… weren’t.

I leaned forward, resting my forehead against my arms. My breath came in harsh, shallow pulls. The pain was a dull throb now—everywhere and nowhere, like a phantom limb. My body screamed for rest.

But my mind was still numb.

No tears. No despair. Not even the sharp taste of guilt anymore. Just this constant, dragging weight in my chest where feeling should be. As if someone had poured cold water through my soul and left it there to stagnate.

Maybe that was for the best.

The cultists needed to be stopped.

I wouldn't give up. Not until I made this right.

I rose again before the ache could convince me to stay.

I reached out with Shennong’s Decree.

The nearest blades of grass trembled. I coaxed them gently, twining their roots into my limbs. It was like threading dull needles through half-healed skin; sluggish, clumsy, resistant. But they responded. Slowly. Unevenly. As if they, too, had lost something vital in the wake of the Interface’s silence.

I moved my arm, and the tendrils followed; sluggish, but obedient. I kicked, and the grass along my shin snapped with a brittle crack.

Too fast. Too much.

I exhaled sharply, staring down at the limp fibers dangling from my legs. I needed to learn. Learn how to reach that form that allowed me to face off against the cultists. But it was only made possible by the Interface.

Without it… wasn't I just a boy pretending to be a cultivator?

The thought festered like rot in the back of my mind. I shook it away.

This was the path I chose. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

I closed my eyes and tried again. I did not order the plants; I invited them, coaxed them as one might guide the flow of a stream with careful hands.

They responded, hesitant at first. Blades of grass curled and reached, thin strands brushing my ankles, then winding up my calves like children clinging to their parent’s robes. I drew them higher, twining across my arms and shoulders, weaving them into a living sheath.

I took a step forward. The vines moved with me, tugged along by intent. My balance wavered, every movement demanding concentration. What had once been effortless in the frenzy of battle, when my body was broken and the plants had become my missing sinew, was now clumsy. Back then, they had filled the voids of a body that could not stand. Now my flesh was whole, and the grass too weak to truly bear me.

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I punched. The plants tried to mimic the motion, snapping like cords against the air. Too slow. Too weak. My fist cut through while the greenery lagged behind, a shadow pretending at strength. The synchronization faltered with every gesture. I was missing the bottomless tide of qi the Interface had poured into me, allowing me to continue strengthening and reinforcing my plants, using Shennong's Decree with reckless abandon.

Still, I persisted. I moved again; turning, ducking, striking. The grass shivered to keep pace, quivering as though strained by its own existence. Sweat ran down my back. My arms burned from the effort of controlling both flesh and flora at once. The grass strained, tearing free from the soil to follow my intent, but without the endless fuel of the Interface, every inch of motion leeched from my reserves.

I practiced longer than I intended, dragging my body through the clumsy dance until my qi dimmed to embers. My legs trembled, the tension in my tendons threatening collapse. I forced down a recovery pill, the bitter heat crawling through my meridians. With a weary exhale, I sank into meditation, letting the dregs of herbal warmth soothe the frayed edges of my spirit.

By the time I stood, the sun had shifted again, higher in the sky. My pulse was steady. My path was clear.

Qingmu was there. Barely a detour to see Hua Lingsheng and the others. But every moment I delayed was another moment the cultists had to complete their ritual. Another step closer to the Heavenly Demon's return. The Phoenix Tears were already in their hands

I skirted the outer fields and kept moving south. The terrain grew yellowed. Sparse. Wounded. Every li I covered brought new evidence of the plague's reach; withered crops, abandoned farmsteads, wells sealed with warning talismans.

Where there should’ve been thriving farmland, there was sickly grass and bare soil.

Where the roads should’ve bustled with carts and chatter, there was silence.

Even the air tasted wrong.

I pushed harder, my enhanced body eating up the distance. My legs found a rhythm that even horses couldn't match. The landscape blurred past in shades of brown and violet, swathes of corruption stretching toward the horizon.

The sun climbed higher. Sweat soaked through my robes despite the cool air. My breathing remained steady, but I could feel the strain building in my muscles. Recovery pills kept the worst fatigue at bay, but they couldn't erase the deeper exhaustion that had settled into my bones.

Still, I didn't slow.

By midday, I reached a familiar ridge; the same one I stood upon what felt like a lifetime ago, when I first saw Crescent Bay City with my own two eyes. Back then, I remember how my breath caught at the sheer spectacle of it all.

The city’s outskirts had teemed with life. A continuous flow of humanity and horse-backed carriages surged in and out of the grand gate like blood through a vein. Merchants barking orders. Caravans adorned with banners and silk curtains.

It had been overwhelming. Intoxicating. An ode to a world larger than the village I lived in my whole life.

Now?

The road was empty.

No thundering hooves. No wheels groaning against stone. No shouting, no music, no laughter.

Just dirt. Wind. And the faint shimmer of violet plague residue, like oil streaked across a canvas no one dared touch.

I remembered what the refugees told me. How the cultists struck the outskirts. Cutting down travelers and traders alike in their hunt for the Phoenix Tears. How those elders from the SIlent Moon had hidden behind civilians, letting them fall as shields so they wouldn’t have to.

I bit my lip, hard. The coppery tang of blood filled my mouth. But the wound closed almost as quickly as it opened; my body already knitting the damage away before the pain could even register.

I hated that. That I could heal so easily when others never would.

With a clenched jaw, I turned away from the ruined path and pressed forward.

The journey that once took days on horseback now passed in little more than a day. My boots were caked in dried mud and sickness, my maroon robes mottled with debris, torn at the hem. The sleeves clung to my skin with the sticky wetness of residual plague dew, and the faint scent of ash and rot clung to me.

By the time I reached the gates of the Verdant Lotus Sect, the sun was beginning its descent.

Their walls had grown higher.

Steel-faced disciples stood at every vantage, eyes sharp, hands resting on sword hilts.

The moment they saw me approach, three of them stepped forward. Weapons half-drawn.

“Stop right there!” one barked. “Identify yourself!”

I raised both hands slowly, palms open.

The words caught in my throat. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

I reached into my pouch and retrieved the token Instructor Xiao-Hu had once given me. A metal disc etched with a lotus blossom so finely engraved it shimmered under the light.

I tossed it gently through the air.

The leading guard caught it. His gaze flicked down—then his eyes widened.

Recognition. And something like disbelief.

“My name is Kai Liu,” I said, voice hoarse from dust and silence. “I have information about the cultists that I need to share with the sect.”

SCENE BREAK

The water had already turned cloudy.

I watched the last of the dirt and grime swirl off my knuckles and disappear into the grey. A few petals floated around the basin's edge, giving the water a subtle fragrance.

My robes lay in a crumpled heap by the corner, stiff with grime and damp with sweat. Each movement I made tugged at newly formed scabs or dragged across old scars that would never heal fully.

I dipped my hands back into the basin and scrubbed harder, nails digging into my own skin.

The room was quiet. Not peaceful, just absent of sound. Even the breeze outside had gone still. No rustling bamboo. No birdsong. No footsteps.

Just the slow drip of water from my elbow onto the floorboards.

I looked down again.

The reflection staring back wasn’t someone I knew. Hollow eyes. Jaw tight.

My breath hitched once. But it passed. Like everything else.

I reached for the towel and dried off slowly, putting the clean robes they provided while my hair was still damp.

The robe was soft. Fresh linen. Light against my skin. Too clean.

I tied the sash with practiced fingers and stepped outside, steam clinging faintly to my shoulders as I closed the door behind me.

A disciple waited there, silent, respectful. He bowed once, wordless, and turned. I followed.

The walk through the Verdant Lotus Sect was achingly familiar. Slate paths winding between gardens and tiled pavilions. Bamboo groves swaying lightly with the breeze, the scent of medicinal herbs drifting faintly in the air. I had once dreamed of returning here under different circumstances; maybe with new pills to share, or techniques to demonstrate. I thought my next visit would be something worth celebrating.

Not like this.

Every step felt heavier than the last.

I was a warning.

We ascended a short flight of steps, and I knew where we were going before the stone railing curved. The Sect Leader's Pavilion loomed ahead, its curved eaves casting long shadows in the setting sun.

The disciple knocked once, then stepped aside.

The doors opened.

Five elders sat inside, their presence thick enough to turn the air heavy. Elder Zhu gave me a slow nod, face unreadable. The others I didn’t know well, but their eyes tracked me with the caution of seasoned cultivators used to bad news.

And at the center was Sect Leader Shaotian Ye.

He looked older than I remembered. The grey in his beard had deepened, and new lines creased the corners of his eyes. But his presence hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. If anything, it had sharpened.

“Kai Liu,” he said, voice even. “Your visit was quite... unexpected. We've heard of what happened from Feng Wu's communications. Your resilience is remarkable.”

There was no judgment in his tone. Only gravity.

Once, I would’ve folded under the pressure; sweating palms, a dry throat, my thoughts tripping over themselves. Now, I only felt the weight of my own bones. My knees didn’t shake, my voice didn’t stammer. I was simply... tired. Too much had already been lost for me to waste fear on formality.

I bowed, respectfully but without flourish. “Sect Leader. Elders. Thank you for receiving me despite my lack of notice. But this matter was too urgent to put on hold.”

Their eyes didn’t leave me. I didn’t expect them to.

I took a breath, reached for my storage ring, and summoned the Dawnsoul Bloom.

The light in the room dimmed ever so slightly as the flower emerged; its glowing core pulsing faintly, casting golden veins across the petals like dawn breaking over snow. A sharp intake of breath from all the elders present could be heard, and Sect Leader Shaotian Ye's eyes narrowed as he looked upon the living herb.

“I’ll begin,” I said, voice steady. “From when the Amethyst Plague began.”

And then I told them.

Everything.