Blossoming Path-Chapter 176: Harmonize, Purify, Fortify

I set the three vials of extracted essences on the table beside my pill furnace. These weren’t my rarest or most expensive essences, but they were potent enough to test my theory.

If this worked, I'd be able to cure Windy.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. Extracted essences were volatile by nature, their concentrated energy unpredictable. Using more than one or two in a single recipe had always felt reckless—an invitation for disaster. But the figure’s method from the trance-like vision had been clear: it wasn’t about the ingredients themselves but their roles in the process.

Harmonization. Purification. Fortification.

I reached for the green vial of Reishi mushroom, the essence inside swirling like liquid jade. Harmonization. This one would set the foundation.

With a practiced hand, I poured the essence into the furnace, the liquid releasing a faint hiss as it met the heated interior. I placed my palm over the furnace’s edge and channeled a steady stream of my qi into it, mimicking the figure’s rhythm. The chaotic swirl of green essence began to slow, settling into a gentle rotation.

So far, so good.

Next was the pale yellow vial; astralagus essence. Its contents shimmered like liquid sunlight, a stark contrast to the green. Purification. As I added it to the furnace, the mixture hissed and roiled, the green and yellow colliding in a chaotic swirl of energy. Once again, I infused my energy into it.

Instantly, the turbulence eased, the colors beginning to blend into a muted chartreuse. I let out a slow breath. It felt as though the essences were acknowledging my qi, cooperating rather than resisting.

The amber vial came last, and I smiled faintly upon remembering Jingyu Lian's usage of it in the Gauntlet. Female ginseng. Fortification and amplification. The essence inside was thick, almost syrup-like, its energy dense and potent. This was the most crucial stage—strengthening the elixir to ensure Windy’s body could withstand the purification process. As I poured it into the furnace, the mixture reacted violently, bubbling and emitting a sharp, acrid scent.

I didn’t panic. My palm remained steady over the furnace as I infused another pulse of qi, this one stronger than before. The bubbling slowed, the amber hue melding with the concoction until began to take on a pearlescent glow.

White.

The elixir was turning white.

I frowned, my mind racing. The figure’s elixirs had been pale, almost translucent, but not this vivid. Was I doing something wrong? Doubt crept in, threatening to undermine my confidence. But my Refinement simulation technique didn't seemed to show anything going wrong.

I let out a slow breath, steadying myself. Maybe this wasn’t a mistake. Maybe the elixir’s color was a reflection of my qi’s purity, amplifying the concoction beyond what the figure had demonstrated. I had to trust my instincts, trust the process.

The furnace hummed faintly as the mixture stabilized, its white glow intensifying with each passing moment. I continued to channel my qi in steady intervals, watching as the energy within the furnace seemed to dance in harmony. The once-chaotic blend now moved with purpose, each color complementing the other until they became one.

When the glow began to fade, I removed my palm and leaned over the furnace. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and energy, a heady mix that filled the room. I reached for a ladle and carefully extracted the elixir, now a pristine, milky white, and poured it into a small vial, warm to the touch.

I held the vial up to the light, marveling at its clarity. This was unlike anything I’d ever created.

I stared at the vial, the faint pulse of the elixir resonating in my hand. The process was complete, but the real test was still ahead. Turning, I glanced at Windy, still floating weakly in the basin of purifying solution. His breathing was shallow, and the dark spots of corruption along his scaled body seemed as stark as ever against his pale, luminous white.

This had to work. It had to.

I approached slowly, kneeling beside the basin as I set the vial carefully on the floor. “Alright, Windy,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s see if this helps.”

With delicate hands, I lifted him from the basin, his small body limp in my palms. The corruption had sunk deep; the dark patches were rough, almost like burns, radiating a faint, malevolent aura that made my skin crawl. I grabbed a cloth and patted him dry, trying to be as gentle as possible. Windy stirred faintly, his eyes flickering open for just a moment before closing again.

“Hold on, buddy,” I said, my throat tightening.

I uncorked the vial, the faintest hiss escaping as the elixir met the air. My heart pounded as I dipped the tip of a finger into the liquid, drawing out a single, glistening drop. Hovering it above the largest patch of corruption on his side, I hesitated. What if this harmed him instead? What if—

No. I shook my head. Trust the process.

The drop fell.

The reaction was immediate. A soft, almost imperceptible sizzling sound rose as the elixir made contact with the wound. I froze, watching intently. The dark energy around the patch seemed to writhe, resisting the elixir’s influence for a brief moment before being forced outward. The blackness dissipated like smoke, leaving the area beneath it brighter, healthier.

It worked.

A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escaped me. I dipped my finger into the vial again, drawing out another drop, then another, applying them to the next patch and the next. Each time, the elixir expelled the corruption, leaving behind unblemished scales. The sizzling sound was less pronounced now, the process smoother as the malignant energy was pushed out of Windy’s body.

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But I stopped before emptying the vial. As much as I wanted to rid him of every trace, I couldn’t risk destabilizing him by using too much at once. The elixir was potent—too potent, perhaps—and his small frame was already weak.

I turned to the basin still filled with the purifying solution. If I incorporated the elixir into the solution, it might sustain its effects over time, allowing his body to recover more naturally. Activating my Refinement Simulation Technique, I hovered the vial above the basin and let a single drop fall.

The solution rippled faintly, but there was no violent reaction, no sign of instability. Encouraged, I added three more drops, watching as the solution took on a faint opalescent hue. The energy within it seemed to shift, harmonizing with the elixir almost seamlessly. This was working.

Gently, I placed Windy back into the basin. He stirred weakly as the liquid enveloped him, his breathing shallow at first, then gradually deepening. I watched as his small chest rose and fell, each breath steadier than the last. The dark patches that remained seemed to fade slightly, their edges softening as the solution did its work.

Relief crashed over me like a wave, my knees buckling as I slumped to the floor. I pressed my hands against the cold ground, my head bowed as I let out a shaky exhale. “Thank you,” I whispered to the silence around me, though in my heart, I was addressing both the faceless figure and the Interface itself.

It didn’t respond. It never did. But for once, I didn’t mind.

I turned to Tianyi, who had been sitting silently in the corner, her wings folded tightly against her back. She met my gaze, her expression unreadable but her antennae twitching faintly in what I recognized as concern.

“Your turn,” I said, standing on unsteady legs.

She hesitated but nodded, unwrapping the bandages that covered her forearms. The sight made my stomach twist—deep fissures ran along her pale, segmented skin, tinged with the same malevolent energy that had afflicted Windy. Her natural healing abilities had slowed the corruption’s spread, but it was clear they weren’t enough.

I drew another drop of the elixir from the vial and placed it carefully on the worst of her wounds. The reaction was immediate but less pronounced than with Windy. The corruption recoiled, retreating under the elixir’s influence, but it didn’t fully dissipate. I applied another drop, then another, until the blackness faded entirely from that spot.

Tianyi’s antennae twitched, her blue-tinged eyes watching the elixir’s effects with a mixture of hope and hesitation. When the corruption receded, leaving the wound clean but raw, she tilted her head slightly, her voice soft as she broke the silence. “It… doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

I nodded, relief washing over me. “It’s working, but your injuries are deeper than Windy’s. We’ll need to treat them carefully, a little at a time.”

Her wings fluttered faintly, and she looked down at the fissures lining her arms. “This… elixir. Could it work against them? The ones who spread this darkness?”

I straightened, the thought sparking in my mind. She had a point. If this elixir could purify corruption from Windy and her wounds, what effect would it have on the demonic cultivators? The Bloodsoul Bloom had reacted violently to the infusion of qi—what would it do in the presence of this?

“It’s possible,” I admitted, my gaze shifting to the vial in my hand. “Their techniques rely on malevolent energy. If this elixir disrupts it…”

Tianyi nodded, her expression grim. “It could be a weapon.”

The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. This was no ordinary healing solution—it was something more. But I’d need to test it further, refine the formula, and see how it interacted in different conditions.

“I’m going to spend the rest of the afternoon experimenting,” I said, my resolve hardening. “We need to understand what this elixir can do—not just for healing but for defense.”

Tianyi folded her wings tightly against her back. “I’ll stay with Windy,” she said quietly. “He’s… resting better.”

I glanced at the basin, where Windy floated in the faintly glowing solution. His breathing was steady now, his coiled body no longer trembling. My chest tightened with a mix of relief and determination.

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The first rays of dawn were still hours away, and the village was cloaked in a deep, pre-dawn stillness. The air was crisp, biting against my skin as I adjusted the Iron Boar cloak around my shoulders.

I stood before the banyan tree, its massive trunk a dark silhouette against the faint starlight. The ground beneath my feet was firm, dusted with frost, and the chill seeped through my boots as I stared up at the towering symbol of endurance, the inspiration of my signature defensive technique. My breaths came in slow, measured puffs of steam.

This was supposed to be simple. Hit the tree, leave a dent, and complete the Black Tortoise Tribulation sub-quest. Yet, my fist remained frozen mid-air.

Why don’t I want to finish this?

The question gnawed at the edges of my mind. Every other quest I had completed had brought a rush of satisfaction, a tangible reward that propelled me further down the path of cultivation. But this one... This quest was different.

I lowered my fist, my eyes narrowing as I considered the weight pressing down on me. This quest hadn’t just been about endurance or strength; it had taught me efficiency. The weight forced every movement to count, every step to conserve energy. It had pushed me to refine my martial techniques and to grow stronger, not just in body or mind, but in my control of qi.

You completed the quest with additional challenges. Your efforts do not go unnoticed.

The Interface had rewarded me handsomely for going above and beyond in the past. It wasn’t just about completing the task, it was about mastering the principle behind it. If I finished the quest now, the weight would vanish, and with it, the unique opportunity to push myself further.

My fingers curled into a tight fist, and then I lowered it.

“Not yet,” I muttered.

The banyan tree stood silent. I turned on my heel, the crunch of frost beneath my boots the only sound as I made my way back to the village.

The stars above seemed to glimmer faintly, as though in approval—or maybe that was just my imagination.

When I entered Elder Ming’s courtyard, the darkness had barely begun to lift. The familiar scent of incense and cold morning air greeted me as I stepped onto the training grounds. Elder Ming was already there, his posture as still as the stone statues lining the path, his gaze sweeping over me as I approached.

“You’re early,” he remarked, his tone neutral.

I nodded, rolling my shoulders beneath the cloak. “I thought it best to make use of the time. Stopped by the banyan outside of the village.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “And the quest? Did you complete it?”

I hesitated, then shook my head. “No.”

Elder Ming’s brows rose ever so slightly, a faint note of surprise breaking through his calm demeanor. “Why not?”

I met his gaze, my voice steady. “Because completing it now would be short-sighted. The weight has been more than a test; it’s been a tool. It’s forced me to refine my movements, to adapt. If I finish the quest now, I’ll lose that chance to grow further.”

His expression shifted, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips. He nodded slowly. “...Wise. Many cultivators are so focused on immediate gains that they miss the deeper opportunities presented to them. You’ve seen beyond the surface of this trial. That is commendable.”

A comfortable silence spread between us, but Elder Ming quickly broke it with two words.

"I apologize."

I turned my head in surprise. "What for?"

Elder Ming exhaled slowly, the morning mist curling around his lips. “For misjudging the situation,” he said, his voice carrying a rare solemnity. “You were right to stop Tianyi from going into the forest alone.”

I blinked, caught off guard. Elder Ming wasn’t the type to hand out apologies lightly. If anything, he had always been a firm believer in taking responsibility without dwelling on past mistakes.

“You don’t need to apologize,” I said, shaking my head. “In a normal situation, you and the Verdant Lotus Sect would’ve been right. If this was just another bandit attack or some rogue beast problem, caution would’ve been unnecessary. But this…” My gaze drifted to the distant trees, the lingering shadow of what had happened still heavy in my chest. “This isn’t normal.”

Elder Ming remained silent.

I let out a slow breath. “When I was younger, I thought that the right choice was to trust those wiser and stronger than me. To follow their guidance, because they knew better. And for a long time, that was true. But if I keep thinking that way, if I assume that every problem has a tried-and-true solution, then I’ll never be able to act when things don’t fit into a neat pattern.”

My fingers clenched around the edge of my cloak. “The Silent Moon Sect was wiped out overnight. Demonic cultivators are moving in ways no one understands. The old ways of thinking—the way we’re used to approaching threats—aren’t enough anymore. That's why I want to delay the tribulation. I’ll make sure I’ve gained everything I possibly can before I do. I want to be able to move like how I did before—no, even faster. Without using qi to keep my movements.”

He folded his arms, his expression contemplative. “Then let’s test that resolve. The Dance of a Thousand Flames—do you believe you can execute it properly with the weight you carry?”

I nodded without hesitation. “I need to. If I’m going to grow stronger, I can’t avoid difficult challenges.”

Elder Ming’s smile widened.

He moved to the edge of the training grounds, where a modest pile of charcoal sat waiting, untouched for weeks. With a practiced hand, he reached for the flint and steel resting nearby. Sparks danced in the air before catching on the kindling beneath the charcoal. A flicker of orange light bloomed, small at first, but quickly growing.

The flames licked hungrily at the wood, and within moments, the charcoal began to glow, its surface crackling as embers spread like veins of molten fire. The heat radiated outward, a wave of intensity that made the cold evening air feel like a distant memory.

“Very well. Let's begin.”