CHAPTER 1280: HE HANDED IT TO HER?

Finishing with the journal on spiritual qi density, Yang Qing moved on to the rest of the journals under the curiosities section. They seemed to be continuations of Song Quan’s earlier expedition in search of mythical creatures. But somewhere along the way, he seemed to have gotten sidetracked, because the entries began to feel less like someone chasing dragons to ride, and more like someone swept away by the rhythm of discovering new places and getting lost in their wonders.

The journals gradually shifted into proper travel logs, and halfway through them, it was clear to Yang Qing that Song Quan had completely forgotten what he was traveling for in the first place.

By the time he reached the third journal, Yang Qing was certain of it—everything from the introductory note onward was just Song Quan raving about how he’d stumbled onto clues leading to an ancient ruin rumored to possess tremendous knowledge in herbology and alchemy.

When Yang Qing read the name of the organization that ruin had belonged to, he could understand why Song Quan had quickly forgotten about dragons, phoenixes, and the pursuit of them altogether.

The ruin whose clues he stumbled onto belonged to an ancient sect called the Eternal Blossom Sanctum Sect.

Now, Yang Qing didn’t go around cramming every ancient sect that had ever existed. If he did, he’d never be done with it, given how many there were—even a thousand years dedicated solely to that effort wouldn’t be enough to cover them all. So there were plenty of ruins scattered across the continent whose history he had no clue about.

But when it came to the Eternal Blossom Sanctum Sect, that he knew of.

The reason he knew of them was because, despite the sect no longer being around, its presence was still alive and well in the present day. The Eternal Blossom Sanctum Sect, in its heyday, was a sect that held the same level of renown as the present-day Radiant Sword Sect and the Flowing Leaves Valley—meaning it had once been a holy land-level sect.

It had made its bones in herbology and alchemy. Their mastery in both fields was so profound that Yang Qing had read they possessed an entire valley filled with saint-grade herbs they had cultivated themselves, and their skills in alchemy were just as formidable.

The herbology and alchemy foundation that the present-day southern continent relied on is said to have been built on their teachings. Countless recipes and techniques for making potions and pills, as well as identifying, nurturing, and harvesting spiritual herbs, originated from them, especially the high-level ones.

If there was one ancient sect that almost everyone on the continent had heard about, then that would be the Eternal Blossom Sanctum Sect.

The Flowing Leaf Valley holy land was a sect which, just like the Eternal Blossom Sanctum Sect, had built its reputation and strength on herbology and alchemy. And yet, despite both sects being recognized as holy lands, the Eternal Blossom Sanctum Sect was more revered—even though it hasn’t been around for hundreds of thousands of years.

One of the instructors who taught Yang Qing herbology once told them that all the cumulative achievements of present-day organizations in herbology and alchemy could barely amount to a third of what the Eternal Blossom Sanctum Sect had accomplished. What the continent was doing now, she said, was merely playing catch-up.

Because while some of their knowledge and techniques had survived to the present day, what remained was but a drop in the bucket compared to what had been lost over time.

A great number of the sect’s core teachings and legacies never made it through history. And yet, even the small portion that did was enough to establish and sustain the foundation of an entire continent in the fields of herbology and alchemy for hundreds of thousands of years.

The statement that instructor made wasn’t an exaggeration at all. It was something most people on the continent agreed with—especially those within the alchemy and herbology circles.

Quite a substantial number of them were where they were because of the teachings and legacies of the Eternal Blossom Sanctum Sect. The founder of the Medical Saint Garden was counted amongst those who had benefited from its legacy.

Outwardly, the fruit he was said to have eaten(the one that gave him three dantians) was believed to be a special type of natural treasure. But those in the know, of which Yang Qing was one (thanks to Ren Shu), knew otherwise.

Ren Shu had told him that the fruit was actually the culmination of the Eternal Blossom Sanctum Sect’s understanding of alchemy and herbology. It wasn’t a natural treasure at all, but a pill in herb form—a perfect blend of both schools.

He went even further and said (which came as a total bombshell to Yang Qing when he heard it) that the pill the founder consumed was only a minor version of the real thing. The true pill, according to him, produced five dantians in someone, and not just three like it had done for the founder.

Yet, whether it was a minor version or not, its effects were undeniable.

The founder of the Medical Saint Garden went on to become one of the top experts on the continent, while the sect he founded was treated with the same respect as the two holy lands—arguably even more, given the life-saving services they offered.

Speaking of services, judging by the achievements the Medical Saint Garden had shown over the years, it was highly likely that their founder didn’t just find that dantian pill that day. He must have come across other things as well, with rumors suggesting he might be in possession of the recipes for both the three dantian pill and the five dantian pill

.

The reasoning was simple: given how precious that pill was, even if it was just a three dantian pill, it surely must have been stored in a special place that likely held other items of similar value. So, if the founder of the Medical Saint Garden Sect found that pill, he must have found other things there, too.

Yang Qing believed so as well. After all, the founder of the Medical Saint Garden had never joined any sect in his entire cultivation life. And before obtaining the pill, it was rumored that he had a mediocre aptitude—one where just reaching the qi refinement realm would have been the best he could have ever hoped to achieve.

His aptitude aside—if he never joined a sect, then how did he improve or gain the skills needed to build the Medical Saint Garden into what it was today?

The pill may have given him an extraordinary talent for cultivation, but talent still needed resources, cultivation techniques, and proper guidance to shine. Talent without those things was like a rich man stranded in the middle of a desert with a cart full of gold—no shop, no people, and no water in sight, slowly wasting away from dehydration. In a place with people and shops, that money had worth, but in the middle of nowhere, it was about as valuable as that desert sand.

The heights the founder reached would have required techniques and not just any techniques, but truly exceptional ones that would allow his newfound talent to flourish. So where did he get those techniques if he never joined a sect?

The answer seemed evident: likely the same place he found that pill.

So for many cultivators, especially those with some understanding or interest in herbology and alchemy, which Song Quan seemed to be, of course they’d immediately jump at the opportunity of exploring any and all related matters tied to the Eternal Blossom Sanctum Sect, whilst everything else, even something as interesting as investigating dragons, would be set aside without a second thought.

Yang Qing would likely do the same. And, quite honestly, so would many others.

Yang Qing read through the rest of the journal hoping it would eventually reveal whether Song Quan had actually found the ruin or not, and if he did, Yang Qing hoped he would maintain form and give vivid details so rich he’d feel like he was there himself.

But alas, his wish was doomed to remain unfulfilled.

Song Quan, despite his carefree and adventurous nature, was as meticulous as he was sagacious. The journal was essentially him analyzing every clue to its bone before moving on to the next. As someone who loved an overload of information—be it inane or important—Yang Qing did enjoy having a front-row seat to his process

.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel crestfallen when he reached the end of the journal and had no idea whether Song Quan ever found the ruin, or if it had any true connection to the Eternal Blossom Sect.

Handling his disappointment the best way he knew how, Yang Qing reached out to one of the plates—only to find all of them empty, along with the pots of wine and kettles of tea.

Surprised at how fast it had all vanished, he called Sun Biya for his second set and added three more sets to his original order.

He also took the time while she was there to ask about the requirements for being admitted to the fourth floor. It turned out, guests needed to reach a certain level in terms of perception to gain admission.

Admittedly, she said that anyone who had reached the palace realm already met that requirement. However, the floor was still accessible to those who hadn’t reached the palace realm, and it was Cai Shan and another figure who handled the assessment. As for who that figure was, Sun Biya was cheekily tight-lipped about it.

Still, Yang Qing got his confirmation—Bai Chen had definitely been brought here, and his kidnapper had clearly known he would be. Which meant there was a high likelihood they were here too.

Now, all that was left was to confirm the orchid’s exchange.

Yang Qing spent the next few hours eating, reading, and listening to stories being told on the third floor via the visual-auditory arrays on his table, all while keeping an eye on his surroundings.

A few hours in, he confirmed he wasn’t alone. He saw some guests suddenly appear when they deactivated their isolation arrays to leave their tables, while new patrons filled their place. And each one of them, without fail, had their attention drawn to the enigmatic painting as their eyes filled with the same emotion: admiration.

Just as Yang Qing was sighing to himself, thinking that the painting really did have an irresistible charm to it, his attention suddenly shifted. His eyes narrowed as he caught a silver-white flash in the corner of his eye.

When he turned to look, he saw one of the guests leaving—holding a moonlit orchid in his hands, which he was now handing over to what Yang Qing assumed was another attendant of the teahouse, much like Sun Biya.

The guest had a scholarly air about him, dressed in white inner robes and a slate blue overcoat with a mountain-cloud motif on the back. He was fairly handsome and youthful-looking, with jet-black hair tied into a high scholar’s topknot, secured with a plain wooden pin. A few loose strands flowed down his temples, softening his otherwise sharp features.

As for the attendant, she appeared to be in her mid-twenties—unsurprisingly beautiful—dressed in a soft rose-pink hanfu with the sleeves neatly rolled back, revealing her slender wrists. Her raven hair was swept up in a loose half-style, secured by what looked like a flower stalk.

The two exchanged polite smiles and a few courtesies before the attendant graciously accepted the moonlit orchid with a polite half-bow, then moved to lead the guest and his two companions away.

Both the scholar and the attendant were quasi palace-stage experts.

After they left, Yang Qing remained seated as he gazed pensively at the spot where they had just stood.

The moonlit orchid... he murmured absentmindedly, he handed it to her...