CHAPTER 239: ROT WALKS, ROOTS RUN

The forest had begun to rot.

It wasn’t decay in the natural sense; no wet mulch or slow-turning leaf litter, but the kind that came from imbalance. The kind that followed Cheng with every step, like the plague itself was shadowing his footprints.

He coughed into the crook of his elbow, breath catching mid-chest. When he pulled his sleeve away, the spatter was no longer flecked but soaked; thick, violet-black, like bruised wine.

His meridians felt like threads spun from splinters. Every attempt to cycle qi sent a chain of pain through his chest, like someone had poured fire into his lungs and told him to breathe deep.

He stumbled forward. His robes, once fine, now hung like tattered banners around him. Mud clung to the hem. His storage ring, so meticulously stocked with mainland tinctures, beast cores, and elixirs, was nearly empty. The medicines had done nothing. The beast cores only worsened it. Every time he tried to push his cultivation higher, to clear the sickness through force—

It spread faster.

The Amethyst Plague thrived on motion. On qi.

“...laughable,” he muttered hoarsely. “After all these years…”

He’d reached Spirit Ascension to surpass death. Now even breathing was a betrayal of that goal.

He leaned against a tree, bark cold and damp against his palm. For a moment, he closed his eyes. He could feel it chewing through him, not like a sword or spear, but like erosion. Quiet. Patient. Certain.

But he still had it.

His fingers ghosted over the sealed pouch at his belt. Inside, nestled in silk and spirit-sealed wax, was the vial.

Phoenix Tears.

The last. Pure. Unspent.

Even now, it pulsed faintly against his senses; a sun caged in glass.

One drop could purge every thread of the plague.

But no. No. He couldn’t waste it.

He could feel the madness curling in his thoughts now, thin and bright and logical.

If you use it now, you survive.

If you wait, you ascend.

“Shut up,” he snarled, to no one. To the cold. To the hunger.

A tremor ran through his legs. He collapsed to one knee.

He didn’t unsheathe the vial. Just gripped the seal. Let its warmth seep into his skin like the promise of a life not yet lived.

The Veiled-Mandate Seal pulsed once in warning. Its cost was constant; a steady drain on his qi, on his karmic threads, on the memory of his existence. As long as it remained active, the cultists couldn’t trace him. Not through fate. Not through cause.

But neither could the heavens.

He was an echo in a story no longer being told.

Cheng panted. He couldn’t drop the seal. Not now. Not until he found the right place. A space quiet enough to consume the Tears in full without interruption. Without risk. If he wasted them on mere survival, he'd never reach Earthly Transcendence.

The muscles in his neck twitched.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

And then he saw it.

Far to the east. Just over a distant ridge, blurred by mist and time.

A village.

Small. Provincial.

And alive.

His eyes sharpened. Through the murk, he saw movement. People. Gathering. Laughing. A faint breeze carried the scent of porridge, smoke, and something stranger; flowers. Fresh flowers.

'That was impossible.'

No village should have survived this long, not untouched.

Not unrotted.

His breath caught.

He stepped forward, boot squelching in wet earth.

I hadn’t slept.

While the others wept, rested, or simply breathed without pain for the first time in weeks, I spent the night in the greenhouse. Checking every hybrid bed. Cataloguing every viable root, seed, or remnant that might help with recovery. Rewriting dosages. Preparing recovery salves. Mixing the hybrids to create tonics for stamina and detox.

The garden had become a second heart for Gentle Wind. A quiet, pulsing promise that we were healing.

But I wasn’t done.

Because Gentle Wind wasn’t the only village that mattered. Qingmu was next.

A day’s travel by foot, maybe less if we went at the pace we did to Pingyao; We’d even discussed reaching out. Before the plague had pinned us down. Before we stopped thinking of rescue and started thinking of survival.

But now that we had the cure, I couldn't stay idle.

So I pulled the prepared crates from the back of the shop; each packed carefully with labeled vials, grain, sealed jars of salves, and two more full vials of Dawnsoul Mist Bloom. We had planned to deliver them. We just hadn’t known who would be left to carry it.

I tightened the harnesses onto the small wooden carriage myself.

I stepped between the carriage shafts, braced my hands, and poured qi into my limbs. My Black Tortoise Endurance flared quietly to life, bolstering every sinew. I slipped one of the stamina-boosting pills I'd made between my teeth and bit down.

The kick was instant. My blood pulsed like hot iron. Breath deepened. The weight of the carriage vanished into motion.

And then I ran.

Faster than horses.

The road blurred. The sun slipped lower behind my shoulder, painting the hills in bronze. The wind peeled sweat from my skin. I ran until the creak of the wheels turned into rhythm, until the pounding in my chest matched the tempo of my footfalls.

There was no time to waste.

No time for hesitation.

I had healing in my satchel. A vial of Essence Purifying Elixir tucked beneath my Iron Boar cloak. Potions lined the inner pockets of my robes, brushing up slightly on the armor Wang Jun had crafted for me.

If the cultists were still out there, I would meet them prepared.

But that was the thing.

They hadn’t shown themselves. Not once.

Not during the plague. Not when Gentle Wind had been vulnerable.

And that worried me more than anything.

'They were waiting for something.'

The terrain grew steeper as I pushed forward. Pines flanked the narrow paths, shadows lengthening with each minute. My breath grew harsher, even with the aid of Black Tortoise’s Endurance. But I kept going. I had to.

It was only when I felt a twinge in my hip that I allowed myself a pause.

I steered the carriage off the road and into a small clearing. Grass grew tall and thin here. The air was colder. The earth quieter.

I set the brake.

Collapsed to one knee.

And breathed.

Viridescent Sovereignty thrummed through my bones, a subtle but constant thread of awareness. I could feel the moss beneath my boots twitch in rhythm with my steps. The kudzu lining the edges of the road curled toward me ever so slightly as I passed.

It felt like my skills were working in tandem, each feeding the other in an elegant loop. Earthly Root Connection pulled vitality from the land, replenishing my reserves faster than rest ever could. That strength fed directly into Black Tortoise Endurance, amplifying my stamina until I felt like I could run through a mountain and still keep going.

This was what momentum felt like.

Not just raw force or speed, but the culmination of everything I’d fought to build. Foundations laid with care. Skills earned the hard way. One step at a time. Now, finally, those steps were stacking. I was no longer chasing the tail-end of progress. I was standing on the back of it.

Every cell of my body told me I had more room to grow. More qi to wield.

I reached into my side pouch and retrieved a pill.

Golden Drop infused with the hybrid wolfsbane. A volatile combination on paper. But I knew how to balance it. I’d done the simulations. Listened to the ingredients. Tuned the ratios until even their contradictions sang.

I pressed it to my tongue and sat cross-legged in the middle of the clearing. Just my breath, the pill, and the land.

Qi surged into my dantian like fire through a dry forest. The pill’s energy uncoiled rapidly. It was comparable to the beast core elixir I made in terms of potency. A testament to how far my alchemical skills had become. I guided it with Vermillion Lotus Refinement, circulating through the familiar pattern until the flow slowed, stabilized, and deepened. Roots spread through the soles of my feet. And through Viridescent Sovereignty, I listened.

The moss warned of an animal passing a few hundred feet downwind.

The trees noted a shift in moisture; rain, perhaps, in a few hours.

They saw for me. They guarded me. Even while I cultivated.

By the time I stood again, my qi pool had grown. No lingering impurities. No wasted heat. No backflow.

I exhaled once. Then stepped back into the harness. My feet hit the earth. And I ran.

Faster than before.

The world narrowed to breath, rhythm, and the pull of the harness. The wheels behind me hissed along packed dirt and stone. Trees whipped past in my periphery, their branches bowing gently toward me. A break in the canopy.

The ridge crested. My pace slowed just enough to let me process what I saw beyond it.

Qingmu.

Even from this distance, I could see it. The village nestled in the crook of two hills, its rooftops low and uniform, like an old painting still being brushed into color. But what caught my attention wasn’t the layout.

It was the light.

Dozens of points of it. Lanterns swaying on hooks. Torches flickering in the dark.

Movement.

I stopped at the edge of the ridge, heart pounding; not from exertion, but from something sharper.

Anxiety.

My gut twisted.

'What if I was too late? What if this light was a funeral wake?

What if I reached them only to watch them fall?

I shook my head, quickening my pace.

No. Even if it was too late for some, I would not turn back.

Even if I could save only one more life—I would.

My skin prickled as I passed a pair of boundary stones carved with Qingmu’s crest. They hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. Moss and soot streaked across them. And yet... someone had lit incense near their base. Recently.

And then, I saw them.

Figures.

Four. No, five. Dressed in robes. Loose, traveling cut. Their movements practiced. Precise. Hands near sleeves. One of them carried a lantern hooked on a pole. Another had a long, curved blade slung across her back.

But it was the color that froze me in place.

Green.

Not just any green.

Verdant Lotus Sect green.

My heart stuttered. I almost called out.

And then one of them stepped closer into the light.

A face I hadn’t seen in months. Sharp, green eyes. Hair pulled back in a tiny ponytail. He tilted his head, gaze catching mine even at this distance.

“Feng Wu...?”