Blossoming Path
Chapter 205: The Moon Breaks

Time slowed to a crawl.

The burning house teetered forward, flames roaring, timber groaning under its own weight. I knew, with a cold certainty, that Xu Ziqing and I would never reach Ping Hai in time.

He stood alone, his hulking form backlit by the raging inferno. Without hesitation, he lowered the limp bodies of his parents to the snow, almost reverent despite the chaos surrounding him.

Ping Hai turned to face the collapsing ruin directly. His feet slid apart, planting into a low, grounded stance. I saw his muscles ripple and tense beneath torn robes, veins bulging like cords across his arms and neck.

He inhaled sharply, lungs filling until his chest expanded fully. Then, with a guttural roar, he unleashed twin punches upward into the plummeting wreckage.

There was no flash of qi. No radiant light. Just the raw, brutal sound of fists meeting timber.

The air itself seemed to fold.

A shockwave erupted outward. It slammed into the falling debris like a giant’s palm, shattering timber, splintering wood, scattering the flames in a violent spray. A ripple spread beneath Ping Hai’s feet, fracturing snow and ice as though struck by a hammer from heaven.

The debris fell around Ping Hai, a ring of scorched wood and smoking rubble encircling him and his family, untouched at the very center. He stood trembling, smoke rising off his skin like steam, arms still outstretched and shaking violently from the exertion.

Relief flooded through me; brief, fragile. Ping Hai had done it. He'd saved them. My foot was already in motion, stepping forward to close the distance.

Then, a guttural scream split the chaos.

"BEHIND YOU!"

Xu Ziqing's voice was raw, desperate. That incongruency gave me pause, and my blood froze.

A cultist staggered into view, teeth bared in a grotesque, blood-smeared grin as the dust settled. A gaping hole punctured his chest, where his stomach should have been—yet somehow, he still moved. His eyes burned with unhinged madness, claw raised high, poised to strike.

"PING HAI!" I screamed, but my voice felt distant, lost in the roaring flames.

Ping Hai didn't have time to react. Didn't even have time to turn around.

SPLORCH!

Flesh tore. Blood sprayed. A sound I'd never forget.

The third-class disciple looked down, eyes wide and blank, staring dumbly at the crimson-soaked claw protruding from his chest.

My body moved on its own, qi surging as I leapt forward. Xu Ziqing's blade flew past me like lightning, embedding itself straight through the cultist's skull. But too late.

Always too late.

The cultist’s body jerked violently, his life fading, yet somehow he twisted his arm free, claw ripping through Ping Hai in a final, gruesome display.

I reached him, palm blazing with Heavenly Flame, and slammed it straight through the demon's throat, ending him once and for all.

Ping Hai staggered, swayed. Blood erupted from his mouth in a horrible cough, splattering across the snow.

He fell.

Xu Ziqing caught him, pulling his limp, trembling form into his arms. "No! Ping Hai! Stay awake!"

My heart thundered. I dropped beside them, my hands fumbling desperately through my vials. My mind spun frantically through a thousand remedies, antidotes, and tonics. But as blood seeped through his robes, dark and unstoppable, all my knowledge shattered against the reality before me.

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Ping Hai blinked sluggishly, mouth opening as though to speak, but only a ragged, choking breath escaped.

I stared helplessly, numb, as Xu Ziqing screamed again.

"Hurry, Kai! Do something!"

His words jolted me out of my stupor. My hands moved on their own, trembling and numb. We laid Ping Hai down, the snow beneath him already darkening with blood. His robes were soaked, heavy and warm. The crimson hole in his chest was grotesque, black veins radiating outward like cracks in porcelain. My breath caught.

Fatal.

I need to do something.

He’s going to die.

There has to be something I can do.

With shaking fingers, I ripped a strip of cloth from his robes, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding. I stuffed it into the gaping wound, bile rising in my throat as hot blood seeped through my fingers. A sharp, high-pitched ringing filled my ears, drowning out the world. It didn’t come from outside, but from inside my own skull.

I reached frantically for a purification elixir, nearly dropping it as my hand shook uncontrollably. Before I could pour it, a weak grip closed around my wrist.

Ping Hai’s hand was trembling, his once-powerful grip reduced to a mere whisper of strength. His head moved slightly, a tiny, almost imperceptible shake.

"No…" His voice was barely audible, a rasping breath caught in blood.

"Ping Hai," I choked out, my voice thick, strangled. "Hold still—I have to—"

He shook his head again, more firmly this time, eyes flickering toward his parents. Still unconscious. Still breathing. Alive.

Xu Ziqing’s voice exploded beside me. The level-headed combatant I fought alongside with nowhere to be seen. "Ping Hai! Stop being a fool! Don’t give up now! You survived—you saved them, now survive for them!"

Ping Hai’s eyes turned slowly toward his senior brother, glazed but clear enough. His lips parted, breath bubbling with blood.

"Senior…Brother…"

The man's expression fractured. His jaw clenched so tightly the muscles bulged. Tears of anger, grief, and helplessness spilled down his face. With a shuddering breath, he reached out and gripped Ping Hai’s hand, holding on like a lifeline.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear them; the cries of the wounded, the agonized sobs of those who had lost too much. The sounds filtered through the ringing, warped and far away, as if the world was happening down a long tunnel I couldn't escape.

I felt something break inside of me. My eyes blurred. I turned toward the chaos around us.

"Tianyi!" My scream tore from my throat, desperate, pleading.

She was too far. Still locked in battle. Her figure darted through the sky, distant and unreachable.

Not enough. It was never enough.

Elder Ming’s words pierced my mind with cruel clarity.

'There will come a day when all your strength and all your knowledge will not be enough. When someone dies because of a mistake you made.'

Ping Hai struggled with every word he spoke.

"Protect...them. Please."

'When that happens, will you still believe you made the right choice?'

His breathing was shallow, barely audible now.

I’d failed.

"... I promise, Ping Hai." Xu Ziqing said, voice trembling. "I promise they’ll be safe."

Ping Hai exhaled one final, gentle breath, chest falling still.

His eyes slowly dimmed, staring up at a sky he could no longer see.

Xu Ziqing clutched the lifeless hand fiercely, as if holding tighter could anchor his junior brother's soul.

A rush of wind stirred nearby, sending embers and ash spiraling into the air. Tianyi landed quietly, Windy coiled around her shoulders. Their normally vibrant movements were slow and careful, each step revealing a stiffness that told of hidden wounds. Their solemnity mirrored my own aching heart, and I knew without asking that they'd felt everything through the bond we shared.

"I'm sorry, Kai," Tianyi murmured softly, antennae drooping slightly.

"There's nothing to apologize for," I whispered, my voice rough with the effort of holding back my emotions. "Even together, we couldn't have changed this outcome. His injuries... they were too severe."

She bowed her head, wings folding close.

Xu Ziqing slowly rose, gathering Ping Hai’s body into his arms. His expression had hardened again, grief now locked away beneath a mask of composure. He didn't cry again, but his posture said everything; rigid, restrained, collapsed inward under the crushing weight of loss.

Carefully, I lifted Ping Hai’s father, noting his shallow breathing and pale complexion. "Tianyi, could you carry his mother?"

Despite her own injuries, she lifted the woman gently, cradling her with delicate care.

Windy lingered beside me, quiet and solemn. I reached out, brushing a comforting hand over his scales as we moved slowly toward the village center.

SCENE BREAK

The battle had ended, leaving behind only pain.

Wails and cries mingling with the crackling flames that still consumed what remained of Pingyao. Jian Feng and the Verdant Lotus disciples had gathered the survivors in a makeshift clearing, setting up crude stretchers and covering the fallen with cloths and blankets salvaged from the ruins. The sight was heartbreaking. More than half the village lay destroyed, their numbers decimated.

The supplies I had brought from Gentle Wind Village vanished in moments, the grateful hands of survivors accepting whatever I could provide. My movements were driven by a desperate need to help, to offer even the smallest comfort to those who had lost so much.

After treating Tianyi first, she'd immediately joined me in aiding the wounded. She knelt now beside an injured child, her antennae gently brushing against his forehead as she poured healing qi into his battered body. The boy’s sobs softened, replaced by quiet, exhausted breaths as the worst of his injuries slowly faded.

Windy slithered toward me then, drawing my attention with a quiet hiss. He carefully placed a handful of small, bloodstained pouches in front of me. Retrieved from the cultists we'd fought. I opened one, fingers shaking slightly as I recognized the dark red seeds within.

Bloodsoul Bloom seeds.

A cold fury stirred beneath my grief, my jaw tightening as I sealed the pouch once more. I placed them carefully into my storage ring.

Standing slowly, I scanned the devastated faces of the survivors gathered around us. Their eyes were hollow, broken, searching for answers, for hope.

Jian Feng met my eyes and gave a single nod. We’d fought together. Bled together. He understood without needing words what we needed to do.

“It’s not safe here,” I said softly, yet clearly enough to cut through the lingering cries and whispers. “But we can treat your wounds. And then… we will bring you to Gentle Wind Village. You will be safe there.

My eyes drifted across the wreckage around us: splintered homes and snow stained crimson.

A mother hunched protectively around her child, eyes wide and unblinking. An elderly man clutched his twisted leg, face white with pain yet silent, as if all his voice had already been spent in anguish. A young boy held the limp body of his younger sister, rocking gently, lips parted but unable to produce sound.

Every broken soul spoke volumes of the tragedy that had unfolded.

My gaze settled, finally, on Ping Hai’s body lying quietly beneath a worn cloth. His parents were awake now, their expressions hollowed out by grief so raw it seemed impossible they could bear it. His mother, sobbing uncontrollably, weakly beat her fists against Xu Ziqing’s chest, striking again and again without strength or conviction. Her punches were fueled by a helpless fury, a desperate desire to punish someone, anyone, for her son’s death.

Xu Ziqing stood utterly still, absorbing each blow in silence. He made no effort to defend himself or explain, simply allowing her grief and anger to pour out.

Closing my eyes briefly, I steadied my breathing. I couldn't break here. Not now.

I won’t let Ping Hai's sacrifice go to waste.

When I spoke again, my voice was low but held no tremor.

“We’ll leave once everyone is treated. I promise you, Gentle Wind Village will welcome you. You will have shelter and food, and the chance to rebuild your lives.”

The village grew quiet, save for the quiet crackling of the fading fires and the whispers of grief carried by the wind. They looked at me, their eyes heavy with sorrow but glimmering with something fragile; uncertain, yet desperately needed.

Hope.

And I would carry it for them, no matter how heavy it became.