Chapter 26: Freshness

Fragrant waves of blossoms surged in the gentle, benevolent breeze, filling the air with a sweet, intoxicating scent. The young man stood, his head adorned with an azure diadem, holding the Universe Scroll, an aura of conjured energy swirling around him. His clear, handsome eyes gazed warily at the figure across from him.

“I…” he began.

At the end of a winding path stood a maiden in a delicate, verdant dress, her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity and wonder. Faced with the youth’s question, she found herself tongue-tied—unaccustomed as she was to speaking with outsiders. She bit her tender lip, a hint of timidity and helplessness shadowing her face.

A small tuft of grass hopped onto the immortal stone, eyeing Feng Xiang suspiciously before piping up in a childish voice, “And who are you? Where did you spring from?”

“A talking blade of grass?”

Feng Xiang blinked in surprise, studied her for a moment, then nodded with sudden approval. “Interesting. A little grass like you who can talk so glibly—quite a rare find.”

“What? You think I’m a curiosity?”

The little blade of grass was aghast at being described so. Was she, the renowned Divine Listening Grass of the Cavernous Sanctuary, a mere curiosity to be summed up so simply?

“What kind of eye do you have?”

“Or are you perhaps an immortal bloom?”

Noticing the little grass’s flustered indignation and rapidly swelling pride, Feng Xiang grew suspicious. Hadn’t they always said you can’t judge a book by its cover? Did that apply to grass as well?

“An immortal bloom… Well, not quite. But I am rather formidable.” At his words, the little grass grew suddenly bashful, her voice tinged with shy modesty, nothing like her earlier arrogance. She decided perhaps this boy had some discernment after all—after all, he’d called her an immortal bloom; maybe he just hadn’t thought it through earlier. In truth, divine grass and immortal blooms were different—the former slightly less exalted than the latter.

Feng Xiang’s expression turned strange as he scrutinized her for a long moment.

“She’s yours?” he asked, turning to the lively maiden.

“Yes,” came the soft reply.

Jiumeng, amazed by the grass’s boldness and dismayed by her own shyness, was lost in thought when the unfamiliar youth addressed her. She blinked her bright eyes and mustered an answer.

Her palm was damp with nervous sweat.

“Jiumeng, Jiumeng, don’t you usually speak just fine? True, he’s the first stranger you’ve ever met, and he’s from beyond the Sea of Flowers, but he’s no demon. See, the Listening Grass can talk with him—there’s nothing to fear.”

“Where in the Sea of Flowers are we?” Feng Xiang asked. “I just got out of the Black Prison. You know the old man, right? The one who refines stars—the famous one.”

“Elder Jiuzun,” Jiumeng replied.

“That’s the name!” Feng Xiang’s eyes lit up. “Where is the old man now?”

“You came with Jiuzun!” the little grass exclaimed, casting a new, respectful look at Feng Xiang. “He’s at World Mountain now, refining stars. Are you looking for him?”

“Refining stars?” Feng Xiang instantly lost interest. “Never mind, then. I won’t look for him now. Once he starts, he can go on for ten days or half a month—dull work.”

Dull? Jiumeng’s pure eyes flickered. The golden eastern sky was dazzling, spreading its brilliance into the Sanctuary. If she weren’t bound to stay until her first bloom, she would have liked to see Jiuzun’s star-refining in person.

“You said you just came out of the Black Prison and looked so bedraggled—did someone trick you into treasure-hunting there?” The little grass’s attitude toward Feng Xiang softened at the mention of Jiuzun, her wariness melting into teasing.

“I did go there,” Feng Xiang replied.

“Hehe, I bet you suffered for it, didn’t you? The astral energy in the Black Prison is razor-sharp, cutting through the void itself. And when the Dark Tide surges, even mountains and rivers are destroyed.”

“Yes, I suffered,” Feng Xiang ground his teeth, a flicker of anger crossing his face as he recalled the treacherous nine-tailed monster. If not for that final betrayal, his journey in the Black Prison would have been flawless—now, a single stain marred the memory.

“The Black Prison holds Ancient Seeds and fragments of peerless cosmic weapons. Even Star Saints covet them, but these are only legends; no spirit in the Sea of Flowers has reaped such treasures in thousands of years,” the little grass sighed.

“Who says they’re legends?” Feng Xiang smiled. “Though this journey was perilous and I almost lost everything, I returned with plenty. When I see your Dance Goddess, she’ll have to honor her promise.”

“You found something?” The maiden and the little grass were astounded. The Black Prison, legacy of the ancient Constellation Era, was shrouded in myth. Yet for a thousand years, every spirit from the Sea of Flowers who braved its depths had come back empty-handed.

Is he just boasting?

“Here, see for yourselves—this is an Ancient Seed.”

Feng Xiang’s lips curled as he raised his hand. In the clear daylight, wedged between his fingers, glimmered a dazzling, pure white Ancient Seed.

“Heavens! It’s really an Ancient Seed—you’re incredibly lucky!” The little grass shrieked, her gaze ablaze with longing, almost drooling. To spirits, Ancient Seeds were irresistibly alluring—they could spark a leap in one’s very essence, opening gateways to new realms. It was no wonder legions of spirits had ventured into the Black Prison in pursuit of such treasures.

“You want it?”

Feng Xiang’s tone was teasing as he dangled the Ancient Seed tantalizingly before her.

“Yes!” The little grass nodded with such vigor she resembled a pecking chick.

“Not giving it to you,” Feng Xiang said, swiftly pocketing the seed.

The Listening Grass, feeling wronged at being teased, gazed at him with a wounded, reproachful look. Jiumeng could barely stifle her laughter, finding this stranger delightfully novel.

Feng Xiang walked along the flower-strewn path to the immortal stone. Unable to resist, he reached out to touch it. He’d noticed earlier that this stone was no ordinary rock: it gleamed with a pearly brilliance, suffused with a mystical radiance.

Listening intently, he caught the faint echo of a melody within—a clear, resounding chant, as if reciting sacred scripture.

Feng Xiang was astonished. This stone was certainly a treasure. The divine resonance within made his mind feel lucid and ethereal—surely, it must have an extraordinary origin.

“Get away! This is my and my little mistress’s territory. You can’t touch it!” The resentful little grass leapt forward, puffing with indignation.

“Can’t even touch it?” Feng Xiang frowned, a little displeased. Then he took out a token and said sternly, “See what this is? The Illusory Treasure Token of your Sea of Flowers. I’ve chosen you—now, you’re mine.”

“Illusory… Illusory Treasure Token?!” The little grass was startled at first, but quickly recovered, retorting defiantly, “It still depends on whether I’m willing! No treasure can buy my consent. I won’t go with you! I belong to my little mistress for life!”

“Forcing you?” Feng Xiang’s eyes glinted slyly. “If I don’t, how else am I to collect spirits here? You seem not to grasp your situation at all—not a shred of respect. I’m an honored guest of the Sea of Flowers, and everything is done according to my will. I’ve decided—I want you!”

A surge of radiant energy swept forth. Before the little grass could react, beams of light flickered in all directions, transforming the space into a dreamlike vision.

At that instant—

“No!” Jiumeng cried out anxiously.

She and the little grass had always relied on each other, their bond as deep as that between mother and child. She could not stand by and watch the little grass fall into disaster.

She raised a slender, snow-white hand, radiant with nine-colored light, and reached out, her touch silent and graceful, passing straight through the surging brilliance.