Blossoming Path-Chapter 170: A Bloody Return

The shop was cold, its silence pressing against me as I carried them inside. Windy's body, once sleek and pristine, hung limp in Tianyi's arms, streaked with blood and torn scales. Underneath the faint glow of the furnace, his injuries became clearer—and more horrific. Entire sections of his flesh were exposed, his pale scales cracked and jagged. I could see faint quivers beneath the open wounds, the muscles twitching weakly as though fighting a battle of their own.

My stomach churned. I forced myself to breathe, to stay steady. Panic wouldn’t save him.

My mind turned inward, reaching into the repository of knowledge I’d painstakingly cultivated over the years. Recipes, techniques, theories—all stored, all ready. What’s the best I can make? What can I use now?

Lines of ingredients arranged themselves, forming pathways of reactions and counter-reactions. I could almost feel the potential, the weight of a hundred choices and their outcomes pressing against me.

One recipe stood out. The Purifying Basin Solution. I’d read about it in the Million Book Pavilion during my quest to refine a hundred recipes, its formula etched into my mind. It was potent, thorough. But it required Verdant Amberroot, an ingredient I didn’t have.

I frowned, my thoughts racing. Could it work without the Amberroot? Its primary purpose was stabilization, keeping the solution from overwhelming the injured body.

Substitute. There has to be something I can use instead.

I lowered him onto the counter as gently as I could, biting the inside of my cheek to stay focused. My hands trembled as I reached for a clean basin. The faint coppery scent of blood mixed with the lingering aroma of herbs in the shop, creating a nauseating contrast.

"Rinse first," I whispered, grabbing a bucket and hurrying outside to scoop up fresh snow. The icy chill stung my fingers, grounding me, though it did little to ease the tightness in my chest.

Back inside, I set the bucket near the furnace, stoking its flame with practiced precision. The Refinement Simulation Technique sparked to life, ghostly projections overlaying the furnace’s interior. It felt automatic, my mind barely registering the glowing matrix of heat distribution and water conversion.

As the snow melted into warm water, I brought the basin closer, careful not to disturb Windy. “This will help,” I murmured, more to myself than him. My voice wavered, betraying the fear I couldn’t shake.

The moment I poured the water over his scales, a faint hiss echoed; not from Windy, but from his wounds. My heart sank. A dark, oily residue bubbled to the surface, writhing as though alive. The edges of his wounds pulsed faintly, the corrupted qi resisting even the warm water.

Tianyi stepped closer, her antennae twitching. “I tried,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “My healing wasn’t enough. It doesn't work well against it. Only slows.”

“I know,” I said, forcing calm into my tone. “You did well. You saved him.”

I turned back to the shelves, scanning for the strongest herbs I had to substitute for the Verdant Amberroot. My fingers hovered over the Golden Bamboo essence, but I hesitated.

Too intense. It could push him over the edge.

I dashed into the greenhouse and grabbed the Jadeleaf Lily instead, its soft green petals glowing faintly under the moonlight.

I moved with practiced efficiency, stripping the petals and grinding them into a paste. My mind raced as the Refinement Simulation Technique spun to life again, showing me potential reactions. Each step shimmered in my mind, but I still felt the weight of uncertainty pressing against my ribs.

As I worked, Yin Si, a shadowy blur against the wall, descended silently. She moved with urgency, her thin legs weaving fine strands of silk in precise, almost frantic patterns.

“She wants to help,” Tianyi said softly, her voice a thread in the quiet room.

I glanced over my shoulder. The spider's movements were swift, her delicate webs already wrapping around Tianyi’s injured arm. A wave of gratitude welled up in me, but I focused on my task.

The mixture began to take shape, a potent purifying concoction. “This has to work,” I muttered, distilling the paste into the basin with precision. The water glowed faintly, the dark residue bubbling more violently as the liquid took on purifying properties.

Windy twitched weakly as I lifted him into the basin. His body slipped under, but I kept his head propped above the water’s surface, careful not to let him drown. His pale form floated almost lifelessly, his breathing shallow, but the glow of the concoction began to push back against the corrupted qi.

“Hold on,” I whispered, gripping the basin’s edge tightly.

I observed him for several minutes, tracking every change. I breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed the mixture was dispelling some of the malignant qi, as slow as it was.

Tianyi moved beside me, her injured arm cradled against her chest. Yin Si was gone, just as quickly as she appeared. But she left Tianyi's arm covered tightly with silk thread. My gaze flicked to her briefly, catching the jagged cracks along her exoskeleton.

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“Your arm,” I said quietly, breaking the silence.

“From the shadow,” she replied, though her voice lacked strength. "They are slow, but allowing one attack leads to this."

I grabbed another clean cloth, soaking it in the same medicinal mixture. “What happened out there?”

She hesitated, her wings shifting faintly. “The shadow… They were chanting something. Doing something to the bodies. They planted a seed."

My pulse quickened, but I forced my hands to stay steady. “What did they say?” I said, my voice low.

“I…” She hesitated, her antennae curling slightly. “I don’t want to. It doesn't make me feel good.”

"Please, Tianyi. We need to learn who they're behind."

After a moment of indecision, she relented. "... She kept saying, ‘Praise the Heavenly Demon.’” Her words were hesitant, each syllable dripping with unease.

The air seemed to shift, the phrase lingering unnaturally. There was something wrong with those words—something deeper than fear. It clawed at the edges of my mind, like a shadow slithering through unseen cracks.

I hurriedly soaked the cloth in the leftover mixture, squeezing out the excess before pressing it gently against the silk threads wrapped around Tianyi’s arm. My fingers trembled as I worked, the motions automatic but weighted by the sight of her injuries. The threads glistened faintly as they absorbed the concoction, swelling slightly. The glow of the liquid seemed to seep into the silk, a faint pulse radiating across the threads.

Tianyi's wings fluttered faintly, and her posture relaxed. The tension in her shoulders eased, her antennae lifting slightly. The pain must have dulled; her sharp exoskeletal features no longer seemed as rigid with strain.

“Is it working?” I asked, though I could already see the answer.

She nodded, her voice soft. “It’s better.”

Relief swept through me, but it was quickly replaced by guilt. Without thinking, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. She stiffened at first, then let out a faint sigh, her arms resting awkwardly at her sides.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone out there. For trusting them. For letting you fend for yourselves.”

Her head tilted slightly, her expression unchanging as she looked at me. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” she said bluntly. “I chose to go. Windy did too. You didn’t make us.”

“But I should’ve stopped you,” I said, pulling back slightly to look at her. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—”

“You can’t change what happened. And you weren’t wrong to trust the sect disciples. They were capable. Just not enough.”

Her bluntness cut through the storm of my thoughts, but the weight in my chest didn’t lift. I glanced at Windy, his pale form floating weakly in the basin. My hands curled into fists, and for a moment, I let the guilt overwhelm me.

“You almost died. Both of you. And I let it happen.”

Tianyi tilted her head, her antennae twitching faintly. “You didn’t let anything happen. You’re here now. Fixing it.”

Her words struck a chord, but they didn’t absolve me. My vision blurred as I stared at Windy. “I was indecisive. I stayed here, trying to believe in Jian Feng’s words. I should’ve trusted my instincts.”

“You didn’t know what would happen,” she said simply. “Neither did we. You are not perfect, Kai.”

Her honesty was both grounding and painful. My shoulders sagged, the weight of the day pressing down on me. For the first time since I’d carried Windy into the shop, I let myself feel the fear, the anger, and the overwhelming guilt. A few tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them.

“I won’t let it happen again,” I said, my voice firm despite the quiver. “I won’t leave you in danger. Ever again.”

Tianyi didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she rested her uninjured hand on my arm, her touch light but steady.

The danger wasn’t over. Not with whatever this “Heavenly Demon” was. If I was going to protect them, I couldn’t let myself drown in guilt.

I turned my focus back to Windy and Tianyi, channeling every ounce of determination I had into their recovery. There was no room for anything else.

“Tianyi,” I said softly, keeping my voice calm and steady. “You’ve done more than enough for today. You need to rest.”

Her antennae tilted, and her unfocused gaze met mine, stubbornness flickering faintly in her expression. “I don’t need—”

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“You do,” I interrupted gently. “Please, trust me. Rest.”

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on me as if assessing whether I truly meant it. Finally, she nodded, albeit reluctantly, and shifted closer. Without another word, she laid herself down, her movements stiff as her head settled lightly on my lap. Her wings folded against her back, and though her eyes didn’t close, they lost their sharpness, becoming distant. Her body went limp, her breathing slowing, and a strange stillness settled over her.

I sat there for a long time, observing her and Windy. The room was quiet, the faint crackle of the furnace the only sound as the minutes stretched into hours. My gaze flicked between the two of them, the weight of the day pressing down on me in ways I couldn’t ignore.

And yet… I didn’t feel tired.

That realization crept in gradually, like a thought half-formed before taking shape. I should’ve been exhausted after staying awake this long, completing morning training, and keeping my body infused with qi to withstand the tribulation throughout the day.

But my body didn’t ache. My movements didn’t feel sluggish or strained. Even my reserves weren't as drained as they should. I flexed my fingers experimentally, marveling at how steady they felt.

The transition from every rank in the mortal realm was like a gradual climb up a staircase. But going up a rank in the Qi Initiation stage had been significant, like leaping a flight of stairs. If I kept going at this rate, the tribulation would be mitigated within two more breakthroughs. I'd be able to move as though I wasn't moving with triple my bodyweight.

A thought struck me. I closed my eyes and turned my focus inward, toward the energy coursing through my body. On top of my breakthrough in my body, my qi going from the peak of Qi Initiation stage to the beginning of Essence Awakening stage was like night and day.

The noise of the world around me faded into a faint hum, leaving only the quiet pulse of my qi. It coursed through me like a river, steady and deep, but as I concentrated, I realized something was different.

In my mind’s eye, I visualized my dantian. It had always been a source of strength, growing larger as my qi reserves expanded. But now, it had changed. The orb seemed smaller, almost as though it had shrunk slightly since my last breakthrough. Yet, despite the decrease in size, it felt denser, heavier, as though it carried the weight of something far greater than before.

I frowned, focusing more intently. My reserves weren’t diminished; if anything, they had increased. But this denser, more concentrated form of qi was… efficient. Each pulse felt sharper, more deliberate, like a blade honed to its absolute peak.

That’s how I’d been withstanding the tribulation all day. My body, strengthened by the breakthrough, bore the brunt of the additional weight without expending as much qi. And my reserves, though denser, seemed to stretch further, making every bit of effort more sustainable.

I was getting stronger. Rapidly. Too rapidly.

I opened my eyes, staring down at my hands. They didn’t tremble now, despite everything. My body felt alive in a way it never had before, humming with potential. This wasn’t normal—even with the province experiencing growth like never before. Most cultivators spent months, even years, consolidating their breakthroughs. Yet here I was, ascending in leaps and bounds as though something—or someone—was pushing me forward.

My gaze drifted to the Interface, its presence a constant but quiet hum in the back of my mind. It didn’t feel intrusive, but I couldn’t shake the sensation that it was guiding me, nudging me along a path I couldn’t yet see.

“Preparing me for something,” I muttered under my breath, the words barely audible in the quiet room. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

I clenched my fists, my knuckles whitening. This was too fast. Too much. But it wasn’t a blessing I could afford to question. Not when I needed this strength to protect Windy, Tianyi, and the village.

My thoughts shifted to the Verdant Lotus Sect. I thought of Jian Feng’s words earlier, his calm, unyielding confidence that they would handle everything. I had trusted them, believing their strength and experience would keep us safe. And yet their scouting team had perished.

Trust didn’t mean blind obedience. Elder Ming’s voice echoed in my mind, telling me to rely on the Verdant Lotus Sect, to believe in their capability. But tonight had made one thing painfully clear: they weren’t infallible. I couldn’t afford to follow blindly anymore. Not when lives hung in the balance.

I looked at Tianyi, her fragile figure resting against me, and at Windy, his pale form still soaking in the basin.

Carefully, I shifted, laying Tianyi down on a clean cushion beside me. Her antennae twitched faintly, but she didn’t wake. Windy’s breathing had steadied, his body no longer trembling with the strain of the corrupted qi.

I reached for a dry cloth, gently lifting Windy from the basin and patting him dry. His scales, though still marred with faint cracks, had regained some of their luster. I set him down in a makeshift nest of soft cloths, ensuring his head was propped up slightly.

Standing, I took a deep breath, letting the cool air of the shop steady me. The moment of rest was over. There was still much to do, and the Verdant Lotus Sect needed to know what had happened.