Blossoming Path-Chapter 175: A Lesson in Silence

"The Silent Moon was destroyed overnight?!"

Jian Feng’s hands slammed onto the table with enough force to rattle the tea cups set along its edges. His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot, and his breathing uneven. It was clear he hadn’t slept in quite some time.

The messenger flinched, pulling his fur-lined cloak tighter around his shoulders. His face was lined with exhaustion, and his voice trembled as he answered. "Y-Yes. The details are scattered, but the sect grounds were overrun. Several survivors reached Crescent Bay to deliver the news."

I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles white as a chill ran down my spine. The Silent Moon Sect was supposed to be the second strongest sect in the region; and that was before they added those four elders. The idea that they could be overrun overnight was hard to process.

“They were wiped out in a single night?” Elder Ming asked, his tone measured, though his furrowed brow betrayed his concern.

The messenger nodded grimly. “Their attackers… it’s likely demonic cultivators. The survivors who made it to Crescent Bay reported injuries bearing signs of corruption.”

“Corruption,” I echoed softly, my mind flashing back to the Tianyi and Windy's injuries.

“This isn’t an isolated incident,” Jian Feng said, his voice cutting through the room. He gestured toward a map spread across the table. “Look at this. Crescent Bay here. Iron Claw Sect to the northwest. Silent Moon in the east. And now two of them spotted near Gentle Wind Village. They’re everywhere.”

“But why?” Wang Jun asked, his voice unusually quiet. He exchanged a glance with Lan-Yin, whose brows were furrowed in thought. “Why attack sects and villages scattered so far apart?”

It was a good question, one I didn’t have an answer for. If they were trying to gain territory, they wouldn’t spread themselves so thin. If it was resources, the attacks seemed too destructive. And if it was vengeance… what could they possibly be avenging?

I hesitated, then spoke. “What else do we know about the attack on the Silent Moon? Did anyone find out why they were attacked?”

The messenger shook his head. “No other news has come from the sect or Crescent Bay. Whatever their motive, it’s still unclear.”

My thoughts turned to Xu Ziqing, Ping Hai, and the other Silent Moon disciples I’d met during the Gauntlet. I didn’t like them—far from it. But hearing this news felt like a blow to the chest. They were still people. Still human. And now, they were likely gone.

Jian Feng turned to the messenger. “Relay this as well: Gentle Wind Village was attacked. The creatures involved called themselves demonic cultivators and made references to the Heavenly Demon. We’re gathering what we’ve learned and will send it to the sect.”

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my nerves. “I’ll write down everything I’ve learned from my experiments with the Bloodsoul Bloom. If the sect can disseminate this information, it might help others prepare.”

Jian Feng gave a tight nod. “Good idea.”

I retrieved a blank piece of paper and began to write, summarizing the bloom’s properties, its feeding habits, and its resistance to conventional alchemical reactions. The memory of its malevolence still lingered in my mind, and my fingers trembled slightly as I worked. When I finished, I sealed the scroll and handed it to the messenger.

“You’ll need to deliver this to the Verdant Lotus Sect,” I said. “They’ll know what to do.”

The man accepted it with a nod but looked hesitant. “I still have to relay this news to other villages and sects along the way. I don’t know if I’ll make it to the Verdant Lotus quickly.”

Jian Feng sighed, rubbing his temples. “We’ll send someone else from the village. Thank you for your service.”

As the messenger prepared to leave, I hesitated, a thought gnawing at the back of my mind. “Wait.”

He turned, his brow furrowed. I dug into my satchel, pulling out the energy-boosting potions I’d been meaning to give Li Wei. They were crude, but they worked well enough in a pinch. “Take these. They’ll help keep your stamina up.”

The messenger’s eyes widened slightly as he accepted them. “Thank you, young master.”

I shook my head. “No need for that. Just avoid any roads that take you into the forests. If these demonic cultivators are hiding anywhere, it’s there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a faint smile, his voice softening. “Thank you for your work here.”

As the messenger mounted his horse and rode off into the encroaching twilight, I turned back to the table where Elder Ming, Lan-Yin, Wang Jun, and Jian Feng still stood.

“We need to think about what happens next,” I said, breaking the tense silence.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Lan-Yin said quietly. “If this village becomes a target again…”

I nodded grimly. “Should we evacuate to Crescent Bay?”

Jian Feng shook his head. “It’s not feasible. Moving an entire village would require enormous resources and days of planning. The villagers aren’t as fast as cultivators, and we’d be vulnerable to attack during the journey.”

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising sense of helplessness. The thought of staying in the village while knowing the threat was still out there felt suffocating.

Elder Ming folded his arms, his calm voice cutting through the tension. “Then we stay and prepare. We cannot afford to let panic rule our actions. The village must remain strong, no matter the circumstances.”

Everyone fell silent, the gravity of our situation sinking in. We were essentially trapped. Any move we made carried risks that could lead to even greater disaster. And so, for now, we could do nothing but wait.

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But I couldn’t stay idle. Waiting felt like surrender.

“I need air,” I muttered, pushing away from the table. I didn’t wait for a response, striding toward the door as the cold wind beckoned me outside.

The night air bit at my skin, but the sharpness helped clear my head. My thoughts churned like the storm clouds overhead, and I clenched my fists tightly. I glanced upward, half-expecting the Interface to display some new task or hint, but it remained frustratingly quiet.

“You’re giving me all these rewards,” I murmured, my voice low and bitter. “Making me grow faster than everyone else. You want me to be something. Fine. Then give me something now. Again.”

The words hung in the air, swallowed by the cold silence. My chest tightened with frustration. Whatever power controlled the Interface, it remained as cryptic as ever.

I turned and made my way home, each step feeling heavier than the last. The faint light from within spilled onto the snow, and I pushed open the door to find Tianyi awake. She sat by the basin, her expression tender as she cradled Windy’s head above the water. His small body floated weakly, his breathing shallow but steady.

“You’re back.”

I nodded, unable to keep the tension from my voice. “How is he?”

“He’s stable. For now,” she said softly, brushing a hand gently over Windy’s pale scales. “But the corruption… it lingers.”

I clenched my fists, guilt and helplessness swirling within me. Windy had nearly died, and here I was, grasping at straws for a solution in the sky.

No. I had to find it myself.

My gaze drifted to the shelf where the Golden Bamboo essence sat. The faint, golden hue of the vial seemed to pulse as I approached.

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I grabbed it, turning toward a nearby ginger plant. Placing the essence atop its soil, I focused, channeling a trickle of qi into the connection.

The change was immediate. The ginger plant shuddered, its leaves straightening as its color deepened to a vibrant green. The essence suffused it, infusing the plant with strength and vitality. It looked healthier than I’d ever seen it, its energy radiating in soft waves.

Quest: Mastery of Spiritual Plant Cultivation has been completed.

Due to your status as Interface Manipulator, rewards have been adjusted accordingly.

Spiritual Herbalism has reached level 9.

Reward calculation completed.

Your reward will put you into a trance-like state. Proceed?

When my senses returned, I found myself standing in a room that felt eerily familiar. The air was cold, the space dimly lit by an undefined light source. The landmarks were vague—stone walls with cracks that seemed to shift when I wasn’t looking, a featureless wooden desk in the center, and empty bookshelves lining the walls.

I turned, and my stomach tightened. I knew this room. It was the same one I had stood in when I received the quest to create the healing hydrosol.

A faint hum broke the silence, and the robed figure appeared. This time, however, I didn’t freeze. I knew now that I wasn’t corporeal in this state.

The figure moved with precision, its faceless features giving nothing away as it stepped to a cauldron at the center of the room. The hum grew louder, a low vibration that resonated in my chest as three orbs of swirling essence materialized in the figure’s hands. Each glowed faintly—one a vivid green, another deep red, and the last an ethereal blue.

The figure placed the first orb into the cauldron with simmering water. The moment it hit the liquid inside, a soft light erupted, casting shifting patterns across the room. The figure extended its palm over the cauldron, infusing it with qi. I watched intently, noting the rhythm and precision of the infusion. It wasn’t rushed but deliberate, almost methodical.

The second orb followed, its red hue mixing with the green, creating a strange, unstable swirl of colors. Again, the figure infused its qi, the energy spiraling down from its palm into the cauldron. The process repeated with the blue orb, the final addition creating a harmonious glow.

The figure stepped back, its robed arms raising slightly as the cauldron’s light dimmed. When the glow subsided, a small vial appeared in its hand, filled with an elixir that shimmered in all three colors.

I frowned, watching as the figure held the vial for a moment before placing it aside and turning back to the cauldron. This time, it began a new process. Different plants materialized around the figure, their forms hazy yet distinct. It was hard to recognize them, as though they were being intentionally obscured from me. The figure reached for one, pressing its palm against its base.

The plant quivered, then released a stream of essence. This one was orange, and as it separated, the plant wilted, its energy siphoned completely. The figure moved to another plant, repeating the process, but the essence this time was pale yellow.

I leaned closer, my mind racing as I tried to piece together what was happening.

It’s not about the ingredients. It’s about the essences. But why was he using a different set?

The figure repeated the process, extracting essences of varying colors. When it moved to the cauldron, it went through the same steps as before: placing each orb in the liquid, infusing qi at precise intervals, and creating another shimmering elixir. This time, however, the colors were different—orange, yellow, and green—but the end product glowed with a similar vibrancy.

I watched, my brows furrowing deeper as the figure continued its repetitive, precise cycle. Three essences, always three. Different colors, different sources, but the process and the end result were eerily consistent. The elixir shimmered with the same faint glow, no matter what combination of was used.

It didn’t make sense. Alchemy was as much about the specific properties of ingredients as it was the process of refinement. Yet here, it was as though the figure was saying the what didn’t matter as much as the why.

“Is this about ratios?” I muttered, half to myself. The figure didn’t respond. It moved with the same deliberate fluidity, extracting essence from yet another plant. This one produced a deep violet glow, starkly different from the orange and yellow before it.

I stepped closer, my frustration bubbling over. “Alright, I get it. Three essences. Fine. But what are you trying to show me? Why not just explain it? Can you even talk?”

The figure froze mid-motion. Slowly, it turned toward me, its faceless visage somehow conveying an almost palpable exasperation. It raised one gloved finger to where its lips would have been—if it had a mouth—and mimicked a shushing motion.

I blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Are you seriously telling me to be quiet? You’ve dragged me into some surreal alchemical fever dream and expect me to figure it all out without a single word of explanation? This is ridiculous!”

The figure turned away, completely ignoring me, and resumed its work. It placed the latest extracted essence into the cauldron, infused its qi at the same precise intervals as before, and retrieved yet another shimmering vial.

My hands clenched into fists. “Fine. Don’t talk. I’ll figure it out on my own,” I muttered, stepping even closer to observe the reactions within the cauldron. If I weren't corporeal, my eyebrows would've been singed off by my sheer proximity to the boiling cauldron.

As the figure worked, the subtle patterns in the concoction began to stand out. The first essence caused a gentle ripple to spread across the liquid—a calming, unifying motion that reminded me of the initial steps in balancing volatile ingredients in a recipe. Harmonization.

The second essence produced a faint glow, accompanied by wisps of steam that rose from the cauldron. It was cleansing, purging impurities from the mixture. Purification.

The third essence caused the liquid to thicken slightly, the glow intensifying as the concoction stabilized. Its consistency grew stronger, more cohesive, as though preparing to hold up under pressure. Fortification.

I leaned back, the pieces clicking together in my mind. I watched as it repeated the process, the exact same reactions taking place. Did it mean that as long as the essences fulfilled the role of purification, harmonization and fortification that the elixir would work?

“Three stages,” I murmured aloud. “Harmonization, purification, fortification. That’s the pattern.”

The figure paused mid-motion, its head tilting slightly as though acknowledging my realization. Then, with what could only be described as an exaggerated sigh, it set the latest vial aside and folded its arms.

“Was that so hard to show me without all the theatrics?” I snapped, my irritation bubbling over. “You could’ve just said, ‘Hey, look for the three stages.’ But no, you had to be all cryptic about it.”

The figure raised a hand and waved dismissively, as though brushing off my complaints. My annoyance surged. “Don’t you wave me off! I’m the one doing all the work here—”

Before I could finish, the world around me dissolved into light, the dim room and robed figure vanishing in an instant. My body jolted as I snapped back to reality, my hand still resting on the table. Not even a second had passed in real time.

The abrupt return left me momentarily disoriented. I blinked, glancing around the workshop. Everything was as I’d left it—Tianyi still tending to Windy, the faint glow of the furnace casting warm light across the room.

Tianyi looked up from the basin, her antennae twitching as she studied me. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

“Nothing. Just... got a quest reward.”

Her expression didn’t change. “And?”

“And I don’t know what to make of it,” I admitted, letting out a long sigh. “It’s... complicated.”

“Complicated? How?”

I hesitated, then relented. “It’s about an elixir. Or rather, how to make one. The Interface showed me... well, someone—or something—did. The process was strange. It kept using different essences, but the method and results stayed the same. But they didn't explain anything about how it...”

As I said it, the clearer the picture became. I paused, letting myself sink in the realization of what the recipe was for.

She tilted her head. “Did you figure something out?”

I glanced toward Windy, his small body barely moving as he floated in the basin. “A purifying elixir,” I said, the pieces clicking together as I spoke. “Three essences. The first harmonizes the mixture, balancing everything out. The second purifies it. The third fortifies it, making it stable and strong.”

Infusing qi wasn’t just a random step. It was deliberate, purposeful. My own qi had withered the Bloodsoul Bloom—corruption couldn’t stand against it, for whatever reason. The elixir was a weapon, a way to cleanse and strengthen. Maybe Windy didn’t have to endure this any longer.

Perhaps the Interface was listening closer to my desires than I thought it was.

I turned back to the shelf, grabbing the essences I’d prepared earlier. My hands trembled slightly, but I forced myself to stay focused. Harmonization, purification, fortification. I repeated the steps in my mind like a mantra, grounding myself in their rhythm.