Blossoming Path -
Chapter 208: Seeds Taking Root
We kept moving.
I don’t know how.
Each step felt like dragging a corpse. My qi was gone. Spent, chewed through, and then scraped past the bone. What I’d been doing wasn’t sustainable. It never was. But it was necessary.
One crop a day. Just one. That was the deal I made with myself.
A tuber, a bitter root, a clutch of bittergrass—whatever I could forage for, I'd grow to keep us fed just one more day. It kept people alive. And somehow, across snow and starvation and silence, not a single person had died since.
That victory felt like a weight. I carried it in my shoulders, in the tremble of my legs. A life preserved wasn’t free. It was paid for in different ways; in sleep, in qi, of everything I could give. And I’d given it all.
But if it meant getting these people to our destination, I could put up with the discomfort and exhaustion.
Tianyi walked ahead, her wings dimmed to a soft, pulsing glow. She didn’t dart anymore. Didn’t glide. Her antennae drooped low, brushing her cheeks with each slow step. She cycled her own qi, replenishing my reserves and allowing me to grow crops further at her expense.
Windy was worse. Days of hunting with minimal success, and eating just enough to keep himself alive. He didn’t coil around my arm like usual. He didn’t climb or perch or chatter. He just draped himself across my shoulders like a scarf, warm and unmoving, saving every bit of energy he had left. His breathing was slow, like mine.
The Verdant Lotus disciples marched in near-silence. Jian Feng’s robe hem was soaked through. One of the disciples had lost her gloves and walked with raw, red fingers; blistered from the bone-chilling weather. They didn’t complain. Cultivators didn’t have that luxury. But their eyes were sunken, their steps heavy.Xu Ziqing walked near the front. Always near the front. There was a weariness he refused to show, but remained visible nonetheless. His back was straight. His gaze forward. But even stillness could sag, if you knew where to look.
I didn’t know how far we’d come. Or how far we had left. The world had blurred into a single motion: step, breathe, do not fall.
Then I saw it.
The hill crested slowly under our feet, the trees thinning.
And beyond them,Gentle Wind Village.
It wasn’t loud or dramatic. There was no trumpet call. Just rooftops. Lanterns. Familiar silhouettes carved into the dark like a dream I thought I’d forgotten how to have.
I stopped walking. My knees buckled. Not enough to fall, just enough to remind me I was still real.
A lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t cry. I didn’t have the water left to do it.
I swallowed dry air and kept moving.
Others saw it too. Murmurs spread. A gasp from somewhere behind me. The carts rolled faster. The footsteps beside me picked up. The snow seemed lighter beneath our boots. Even the wind, once sharp as knives, gentled for a moment, like the land itself encouraging for us to go.
We were seen.
Torches blinked to life near the perimeter, bobbing as patrols broke from their path and rushed toward us.
Not with weapons drawn. But with open arms. With lanterns held high like beacons pulling us home.
The moment they recognized us, the air shifted. Cries of relief echoed from the patrolling disciples as they lowered their lanterns and shouted excitedly toward the village gates. Within seconds, bells began to ring—not alarms of danger, but bright, clear tones of welcome and relief.
Elder Ming emerged first, his tall figure unmistakable even in the torch-lit gloom. Beside him walked Lan-Yin, her belly noticeably rounded beneath winter robes. Wang Jun was a half-step behind, his usually steady gait quickened with anxiety. Their expressions shifted rapidly from relief to quiet concern as they took in the weary procession of refugees and cultivators, eyes finally settling on me. My silence must have spoken volumes; I could see the questions forming behind their eyes.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It all felt surreal, distant, like watching someone else's memory unfold. Even as we moved into the village proper, guided gently by familiar faces, the words simply refused to form.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
SCENE BREAK
The villagers sprang into action immediately. Blankets and hot tea appeared seemingly from nowhere, wrapped around shivering shoulders and pressed into trembling hands. People were guided swiftly toward shelters, many toward the newly built houses raised after the last wave of refugees. The village had learned, adapted, and prepared. Gentle Wind Village had grown skilled at absorbing those displaced by tragedy.
Disciples from the Verdant Lotus moved alongside those well-versed in medicine, efficiently sorting the injured, the elderly, and the exhausted. A young mother sank to her knees, sobbing openly as the stress finally released. An elderly man simply sat in the snow, his face turned skyward.
I watched it all quietly from just outside the Soaring Swallow Inn, a bowl of golden millet soup cradled between my palms. The steam rose slowly, curling into the night air, carrying with it a fragrance that, for the first time, felt truly precious. I sipped carefully, letting the warmth seep into my bones. The taste was rich, simple, and perfect; a luxury I'd overlooked far too many times.
Lan-Yin, Elder Ming, and Wang Jun stood quietly near me, their expressions grave as I finished recounting what happened in Pingyao. Lan-Yin's eyes were glassy, her hand trembling slightly over her stomach. "Ping Hai… he can’t really be gone, can he?"
Wang Jun's jaw tightened, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground, saying nothing. Elder Ming watched me carefully, sadness etched deeply into the lines of his face, but he didn’t push for more.
The inn was warm, secure, filled with familiar voices drifting from inside. And yet, I felt strangely detached. The phantom sensation of Ping Hai’s blood lingered in my arms. The scent of ash and blood still clung to my robes, overpowering even the fragrance of the soup.
I should have felt safe, relieved.
Instead, I felt hollow, haunted by ghosts of those I’d saved and the ones I couldn't.
I saw the unspoken question in their eyes.
Are you alright?
I wanted to scream at them, to confess that I wasn't the hero they imagined. I wanted to tell them I regret asking for this responsibility, that I was a fool for calling myself a 'bridge'. I was just Kai, a village kid who stumbled upon something bigger than himself. I'd acted brave, strong even, but it was a brittle strength, ready to shatter at any moment.
Outside, villagers bustled, their voices a gentle hum through the walls. Their gazes flicked toward me as they passed, eyes full of quiet gratitude and unspoken expectation. It made my skin itch and my chest tighten.
Who was I to lead these people?
Who was I to shoulder their hopes and fears?
Yet as quickly as the thoughts came, guilt crushed them down. I couldn’t abandon them. Not now. I’d stepped into this role willingly. I'd encouraged others to trust me. To rely on me. To believe in me.
And now, I had no choice but to believe in myself.
"I…" My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, trying again. "I won’t let Ping Hai’s sacrifice go to waste."
The words felt foreign on my tongue, too big and too certain for the doubts swirling inside. But they needed to be said, and I needed to say them. "I want to honor his memory—his death can’t mean nothing. But I don't know where to start."
My eyes drifted toward the villagers again, watching how they moved as one. Sharing food, carrying supplies, tending wounds. They functioned not because one person commanded them, but because each understood their place in a larger whole.
This was a burden I couldn't bear alone.
At that thought, the Heavenly Interface stirred. Its presence brushed against my consciousness, gentle yet firm, responding as if it sensed my struggle.
Text blossomed across my vision.
Quest: A Garden of Living Seeds
Cultivate five hybrid spiritual plants to aid Gentle Wind Village:
- A stamina-restoring root for those who toil beyond their limits. (0/1)
- A calming lotus to soothe the emotionally shaken. (0/1)
- A qi-dense herb to build the foundations of low-stage cultivators. (0/1)
- A plague-resistant moss for purification and medicinal use. (0/1)
- A memory-enhancing flower to sharpen minds. (0/1)
The interface faded gently, leaving behind a renewed warmth in my chest. The words echoed inside me, reinforcing a truth I had nearly forgotten.
I was not alone.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I turned back to Elder Ming, Lan-Yin, and Wang Jun. Tianyi and Windy rested a short distance away, awake but sluggish.
“I won’t pretend I have all the answers. Not anymore.” My voice was soft, sincere. I looked down at my hand, callused and worn from effort. Then I raised my eyes, glancing across the villagers; their tired faces, their bruised bodies, and yet, their lingering hope.
“I thought if I trained hard enough, learned enough, refined quickly enough, I could carry it all myself. That if I could bear it, no one else would have to. But that was never possible, was it?”
I looked at Tianyi and Windy with a tired smile, my voice softening. “You two never let me be alone, even when I tried to be. Even when I said I’d handle it, you still followed. Fought beside me. Paid the price.”
Windy stirred slightly at the sound of my voice, and Tianyi inclined her head, antennae twitching faintly. The bond between us throbbed gently in the back of my mind; steady, warm, present.
“I’ve leaned on you guys without even thinking,” I said. “Because I trust you. Because you’re strong. But… when it comes to the people I grew up with—Wang Jun, Lan-Yin, Elder Ming—some part of me still flinches at the thought of asking. Like I’m not allowed to show weakness in front of them. Like I’m supposed to be the one who rose above. Sorry if that sounds arrogant.”
I looked down, feeling a burning shame as I admitted the truth. “But trying to carry everything myself didn’t make me stronger. It just made me lonely, anxious, and foolhardy.”
I lifted my gaze again, steady this time. “You know me. You know I’m stubborn and reckless, and I'll run myself into the ground if no one stops me. So don’t let me burn out. Help me protect this village. Grow what I can’t grow, guard what I can’t reach.”
“I’ll still lead, fight, and push forward when necessary. But I won’t pretend to be a hero who can do everything alone. I need help. Not just from you, but from everybody in the village. We need to come together if it means surviving this."
My gaze met Elder Ming’s steady eyes first, then Lan-Yin’s gentle reassurance, and finally Wang Jun’s determined expression.
Silence followed my words, not oppressive but contemplative. Elder Ming stepped forward, placing a firm, comforting hand on my shoulder.
“Kai,” he spoke softly but firmly, his voice steady and reassuring. “You've never truly been alone in this. Even when you felt isolated, we have always stood behind you, ready to support you when you were ready to ask for it.”
Lan-Yin smiled softly, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She placed her hand protectively over her rounded belly. “Elder Ming's right. You've carried so much. Even when you didn't have to. We’ve always been here. We always will be.”
Wang Jun straightened, stepping forward and looking directly into my eyes.
“I admit, watching you move ahead so quickly made me feel helpless. Seeing your cultivation, your growth... I thought I was falling behind. But I won't let myself remain idle. I’ve found my own path, my own skills. You’ve inspired me, Kai. Just as you’ve mastered alchemy, I’ve honed my blacksmithing. And I promise you; I’ll forge weapons strong enough to protect everyone. I'll prove to you that my strength can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with yours.”
The conviction in Wang Jun’s voice startled and comforted me. The weight inside my chest didn’t vanish completely, but it eased, allowing me to breathe deeper.
Perhaps leadership wasn’t standing atop a solitary mountain, enduring storms alone. Maybe it was about walking side by side, sharing the burdens, lifting one another upward.
I nodded slowly, strength seeping back into my bones.
I'm not the hero. I can't just leap into danger and come out the victor. I’m still afraid. I don’t know if I can do all they hope of me.
But maybe… maybe I don’t need to. Maybe showing up, again and again, is enough. At least for today.
If you find any errors (non-standard content, ads redirect, broken links, etc..), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible.
Report