Chapter 89: The Ancient Moon-Bearing Lotus (Part One)
The second phase of the event, it was said, involved coaxing flowers into bloom with spiritual power.
Wouldn’t cultivators who practiced wood-based arts have a clear advantage…
Turning the withered seed in his hand, Song Yan’s thoughts drifted.
"Since I haven’t found a new spirit seed yet, I might as well test my hand with this Ancient Lotus of Moon Support in advance."
People from the Valley of Linghua said that this lotus seed was almost beyond saving, even with spiritual power.
But he only intended to familiarize himself with the process ahead of time.
He didn’t even pause, continuing his slow walk. At his fingertips, a trace of spiritual power slowly seeped into the shriveled seed.
The spiritual energy vanished without a trace, like a clay ox sinking into the sea.
"It truly has no effect at all…"
He gathered more spiritual power, increasing the flow.
Still, nothing happened.
The blackened spirit seed was as lifeless as if it had already perished, utterly unmoved. The spiritual energy was absorbed and almost instantly dissipated.
Yet Song Yan could sense, ever so faintly, the so-called “trace of vitality” that the Linghua Valley cultivators had mentioned.
That fragile breath of life was pitifully weak, enshrouded on all sides by a tangible aura of decay, smothering what little life remained.
In fact, the principle of urging spirit plants to grow with spiritual power was not much different from many wood-element techniques.
After several trials, he already grasped the key.
At the same time, it was clear this spirit seed deserved its reputation as dead.
"Perhaps, due to the unique structure of the seed, the rot spreads from outside inwards. The last remnant of life is isolated in a pocket, ‘preserved’ in the void inside."
He speculated silently, about to discard the seed, but suddenly withdrew his hand.
All this time, Song Yan had wanted to try an idea.
That was—
What essential difference was there between the sword energy evolved from the Dao Seed of Swordsmanship and ordinary spiritual power?
Back when exploring Lin Qinglong’s cave, he’d had a wild thought to infuse sword energy instead of spiritual power.
But he’d held back, not wanting to disrupt the group or draw attention—he couldn’t face all those people alone.
Now, though, he could try.
Urge a flower into bloom with sword energy?
Even Song Yan found the notion absurd.
But after all, this seed was useless.
Sword energy shimmered at his fingertip—a slender, icy-white blade of cold light slipped cautiously into the black seed coat.
Yet the sharp force, upon touching the decayed surroundings of the seed’s core, sliced a tiny opening, then dissipated completely, just like the spiritual power before.
Just as expected.
He had failed.
He wasn’t disappointed; the spirit seed was dead to begin with.
Still, from that cut, he sensed a familiar aura.
Decay of spiritual things…
He thoughtfully rubbed the wrinkled surface of the seed.
Suddenly, something came to mind.
The painted world, cliffs of wind and thunder.
Beneath thunder and wind, dead wood sprouted new buds.
Song Yan curled his five fingers, and a coil of sword energy gradually formed in his palm.
The sword energy grew more solid, and streaks of golden lightning arced along the pale blade.
Sword energy entered the spirit seed again—
And a sudden transformation occurred!
Under the flicker of lightning, the once-black seed coat revealed a web of fine, intricate lines.
Layer upon layer of deathly energy was torn open by the sword energy, like spring water breaking through ice.
Startled, Song Yan stood frozen.
Though bewildered, he cautiously guided the sword energy further.
That dormant speck of vitality surged through the internal channels under the storm of wind and thunder.
Within a few breaths, the ink-black shell faded to the color of creamy white jade. A trembling green sprout pushed through the crack.
“So fast?”
Then, a wilder thought flashed through his mind.
If this ancient lotus’s vitality was truly as fleeting as the Linghua Valley cultivators claimed…
Then why not—
With a pinch of his fingers, the spiritual energy of all surrounding plants converged toward his palm and into the tiny spirit seed.
At the same time, sword energy from the Sword Mansion poured forth.
The tender shoot grew rapidly; the valley’s spiritual aura surged so violently that Song Yan was caught off guard!
Fortunately, it did not last long. In a blink, a lotus stem a foot tall rose, and a blossom, bright as the moon, slowly unfurled in the midst of the lightning.
In its heart, a pure and radiant moonlight condensed, lifting a single lotus seed.
Song Yan stood in a daze, staring blankly at the lotus in his hand.
As he wondered, the lotus’s spiritual aura suddenly began to unravel and dissipate; the pure petals started to wither and rot.
Not daring to delay, he quickly tapped his fingertip to draw the lotus seed into his palm.
After pondering a moment, he flicked a flame from his finger, reducing the withered flower to ashes.
“How strange.”
He could not discern the cause, but the lotus seed in his palm was indeed alive.
Its spiritual energy was faint, but he could sense a surging, vigorous life within.
“...I forgot to ask what use this ancient lotus might have.”
Who would have thought that a casual attempt would lead to this result.
The ancient lotus grown from the withered seed could not be preserved, but he now held a living lotus seed.
What if it could grow into a living ancient lotus?
“If I’d known it would turn out like this, I’d have tried it back at the courtyard.”
He sent out his spiritual sense, searching the surroundings, but fortunately detected no other presences.
After some thought, he decided not to tell the people of Linghua Valley.
He himself could not fully explain the matter, let alone to outsiders.
He calmed his mind.
The lotus’s miracle was but a pleasant surprise.
For now, the most important thing was to obtain the ancient sword.
He found a spot rich in spiritual energy traces and quickly departed.
…
Half an hour later.
From the direction of Butterfly Spring, the ringing of flower bells sounded.
The bell rang three times; the interval between the first and third was no longer than the time it took to drink a cup of tea.
If a cultivator had not returned to the spring by the third chime, they could no longer participate in the Blossom Contest.
The cultivators returned one after another.
The Blossom Contest began quickly.
Since that strange encounter with Cheng Yu, Song Yan had not met any other odd figures. With the aid of the Mask of Spirit-Binding Calamity, he gathered about eight or nine spirit seeds.
As for his senior brother, Lu Ziye, who knew what methods he’d used—he’d amassed over thirty flower seeds!
Combined with his exquisite mastery of wood-element arts, it seemed he had already secured first place.
Lu Ziye, ever the roguish type, gestured to the pile of spirit seeds before him, almost a small mountain.
“Junior Brother Song, care to compete?”
Song Yan waved his hand. “No need.”
Although the contest wasn’t solely decided by the number of seeds collected in the first round, Lu Ziye’s strength was more than enough for him to pick and choose the highest-scoring ones.
As expected, the outcome held no surprises.
Lu Ziye took first place.
Second place seemed to go to a local female cultivator of Beiya Mountain.
At first, Song Yan wanted to see if sword energy could coax an ordinary spirit seed to grow, but ended up slicing one in half, drawing astonished exclamations from the nearby cultivators.
Luckily, he had enough seeds to spare.
By giving it his all, he managed to secure third place without incident.
As for Cheng Yu, who had boasted before Sheng Yun, he only managed fifth.
Apparently, his luck was mediocre.
An antiquated, unadorned flying sword was withdrawn from the reward pouch kept by the Linghua Valley cultivators.
As Song Yan accepted the sword, the Yin-Yang Pearl began to hum softly…
Tonight, instead of playing games, I kept writing! Two chapters at once!
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