CHAPTER 466: CHAPTER 466: ARE YOU... LAUGHING?

She gasped, breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she couldn’t even move. Her fingers curled instinctively around it as the light wrapped around her hands like silk.

Behind her, the man’s mouth fell open slightly. Glimora tilted her head, eyes round. The little creatures whispered all at once—words she couldn’t understand, but the tone was full of awe.

The flower pulsed once—then dimmed, its glow fading into her skin, like it had accepted her.

The moonlight above flickered in answer, brighter for a heartbeat, and then settled.

Isabella just stood there, shaking slightly, staring down at her hands. She could feel it—the warmth of the Moonpetal Lily, a quiet thrum of energy that seemed to sync with her heartbeat.

She whispered, almost afraid to break the moment. "It... it worked."

But even as she said it, the air around them began to change again—something unseen stirring beyond the cave walls, like the mountain itself had heard her.

The phoenix man tensed, glancing toward the entrance. "What was that?"

Isabella didn’t answer. Her fingers tightened around the flower.

The first drop was almost silent.

A faint plink as it fell from the roof of the cave and struck the petal cupped in her hands.

Then everything went wrong.

The silver light of the Moonpetal Lily flared—too bright, too alive—and a single shock of energy burst through her body. Isabella gasped, the sound short and strangled, like her lungs forgot how to breathe.

Then came the pain.

It didn’t start slow. It slammed through her veins like fire trapped in glass. Every nerve screamed. She dropped the flower, clutching at her chest, at her throat, anywhere she could reach, as if she could pull the agony out. Her knees buckled, the world tilting in on itself.

"—Little woman!"

The man’s voice—rough, distant—barely broke through the roar in her ears. The air around her twisted, humming with the same silvery pulse that had come from the flower.

Her vision blurred. The cave lights bled together until there was only white. She could taste iron on her tongue.

"What—what’s happening to me—"

No answer. Just pain, pain, pain.

Her body lifted. She didn’t even feel her feet leave the ground. One second she was kneeling; the next, the waterfall was behind her, roaring like the heartbeat of a god. Water sprayed across her skin, cold and sharp, but even that couldn’t cool the fire burning inside her.

She screamed. It wasn’t pretty—it was raw and human and full of panic.

"Bubu!" she tried to shout in her mind, but even her thoughts cracked apart.

Process detected: Meridian Cleansing, the voice whispered distantly, fading in and out like wind through stone. Energy flowing through blocked channels. Resistance: high. Success rate: unpredictable.

"Unpredictable?!" she screamed, thrashing in the air. Her hair whipped around her, her fan clattering somewhere against the rock. "You think you could’ve warned me first?!"

Her voice dissolved into a cry.

The phoenix man could only watch—helpless—as she convulsed mid-air, surrounded by threads of light. The water from the falls shifted color, glowing faintly with her. He took a step forward, every instinct screaming to pull her down, but when he reached out, the air itself burned his fingertips.

He stumbled back, shielding his eyes. "What kind of madness—"

Glimora squeaked from behind him, pacing in frantic circles, tail puffed, small white body trembling. Even the little cave creatures hid, pressing against the walls, their faint murmurs rising like prayer.

Isabella couldn’t see any of it.

All she saw was light—ribbons of it winding through her veins, dragging, burning, breaking whatever was inside her. She felt them twist behind her ribs, through her arms, through her legs—hot lines of power forcing their way into places that had never opened before.

She tried to breathe. Couldn’t.

Tried again. Choked on it.

It felt endless.

Seconds stretched into eternities. Her heart thudded once—twice—then faster, faster, until she thought it might burst. Her skin glowed faintly now, the lines of her meridians lighting up beneath her flesh like molten gold veins.

The light built—then snapped.

And she fell.

The air rushed past her ears, the waterfall a scream beside her. She hit the ground hard enough for her vision to spark white again.

For a long moment, she didn’t move. The world was sound and pain and silence tangled together.

Then, slowly, breath returned.

One inhale.

One exhale.

The fire was gone. Replaced by something—different. A hum. A steady warmth, pulsing softly through her, mending what it had just torn apart.

Her fingers twitched.

Then—warmth.

Not from inside her this time, but from around her.

A strong arm slid beneath her back, lifting her slightly, the scent of smoke and faint spice brushing past her nose. Her head fell against a shoulder—broad, steady, trembling just a little.

"Hey—hey, wake up," a voice said. Rough. Low. Edged with worry.

Her lashes fluttered. The world came back slowly—stone, water, silver light still flickering faintly. And that face.

The phoenix man’s.

His usually sharp eyes were wide now, uncertain. His hands were surprisingly gentle where they held her, careful not to press against her wounds.

"Are you breathing?" he asked, voice half-panicked.

She blinked at him, her throat dry, her voice barely a whisper. "I think so."

Her body still ached, but the pain had shifted into something dull, distant. A strange quiet filled her mind—then, suddenly, a stream of sound broke through it.

[+20 Health]

[+15 Strength]

[Skill Unlocked: Meridian Flow]

[Congratulations! Cultivation Level Increased → Level 2]

[+300 Points for Acquiring Moonpetal Lily]

The notifications overlapped in her head, bright and relentless. Her lips parted, a shaky laugh escaping despite herself.

The man stared. "Are you... laughing?"

She swallowed, still catching her breath. "I think... the gods just texted me."

He blinked, uncomprehending. "Texted?"

"Never mind," she muttered, slumping slightly in his arms.

Water still dripped from her hair, tracing cold lines down her neck. Her fingers twitched against his chest. For a heartbeat, she thought she could still feel the pulse of that light inside her veins—gentler now, calmer.

She looked around, dazed. The cave had changed again. The moonlight was softer, almost protective. The waterfall’s roar had mellowed into a steady rhythm. The air itself seemed to breathe slower.

Then her gaze drifted back to him.

He was still watching her, brows furrowed, lips pressed tight like he didn’t know what to say. His arms were steady, but his heartbeat—she could hear it, feel it—was wild.

"Why... why are you holding me?" she asked weakly, half teasing, half dazed.