Chapter Twenty-Seven: Heartache

This slender hand was fair and delicate, suffused with a radiant nine-colored glow. As the graceful fingers flicked upward, beautiful petals danced in the air, and resplendent patterns of power emerged, imprinting themselves upon the void.

The force of creation from nothingness suddenly faltered.

“She can actually influence it?”

Feng Shang was astonished; for the energy of creation to be impeded was truly unprecedented. Even the nine-tailed cosmic spirit imprisoned in the Black Cell, capable of confining space and time itself, had never managed to hinder this force. Yet, this maiden in her immortal skirts had done it!

“Little Mistress, please save me, wuwu…”

As the divine force stalled, the pitiful cry of the little broken grass reached her ears. Though it prided itself on being a Wind-listening Divine Grass, before the might of the force of creation, even the highest-tiered spirits of the Flower Sea could not escape; her meager strength was utterly insignificant.

Hearing this cry, Jiumeng’s heart ached all the more. Kind as she was, nothing pained her more than tears—especially those of her most intimate companion, the little broken grass.

She bit her lip, her slender wrist twisting with effort. The nine-colored glow flared magnificently, surging forth with resplendent, mysterious power, so potent that she could grasp and hold the very essence of light itself without letting go.

The nine-colored radiance was incomparably gentle, accompanied by patterns of power, and as it seeped forward, it gained a subtle, effortless momentum—like four ounces moving a thousand pounds. The divine force trembled violently, seeming almost unable to withstand her.

“Return to nothingness.”

Feng Shang’s brows furrowed. As he uttered these two words, the divine force that had been locked in struggle with Jiumeng suddenly blazed with tenfold intensity, breaking the deadlock and enveloping the little broken grass, vanishing with it.

Jiumeng’s slender hand was flung aside, and she staggered back two steps.

Her sole companion, the Wind-listening Grass, was gone.

Her delicate face paled, and those bright eyes brimmed with crystal tears, filled with helplessness, worry, and tension—yet without a trace of blame toward Feng Shang.

Because she had bitten down so hard, her pearly teeth left deep, bloodless marks on her lips, rendering them pale and swollen.

When Feng Shang met her clear, limpid eyes—so pure and beautiful, on the verge of tears—something crashed within him, as if struck by an unseen force. A fierce, numbing shock spread through his body.

He had done countless ill deeds, and had long since learned to discard unpleasant feelings. It had been ages since he’d felt so guilty.

“Could you… let Wind-listening go?”

Jiumeng gazed at Feng Shang with hopeful eyes, her pale, sweat-dampened face radiant with a poignant beauty.

“I… I carry a token of illusion; taking a spirit is only natural. Besides, that little grass offended me.” Feng Shang’s heart faltered, and he actually had to bolster himself to sound righteous.

He felt a sting of shame. In the past, he’d fooled all manner of deities, always leaving without a trace, never once feeling remorse. He’d relished infuriating the divine, always coming out on top.

But now, things were different. The girl’s eyes were simply too clear, too bright, making his faintest, most insignificant guilt swell a hundredfold.

“Yes,” Jiumeng replied softly.

She had no wish to argue; in fact, she agreed, for Feng Shang was not wrong.

Wind-listening Grass had indeed made the first mistake.

She loved the little broken grass and worried for her fate, but that did not mean she would distort right and wrong.

“Wanting it… is possible.”

For the first time ever, Feng Shang felt a pang of guilt. He didn’t want to make things difficult for her, and sought to give himself a way out. He cleared his throat. “Do you have anything valuable on you? Just give me one, and I’ll exchange the little grass for it.”

“Something valuable?” Jiumeng murmured, racking her brains.

Though her status was exalted and she was dearly cherished by the Flower Sea’s Divine Lord, she could not be overestimated. She was pure of heart and gentle by nature, never one to ask for things.

What she possessed was very little indeed.

Moreover, in her mind, anything Feng Shang considered valuable must be a rare and precious treasure.

“Will this do?”

Jiumeng extended her snowy hand and opened it nervously.

“You have a Primordial Seed?”

Feng Shang exclaimed in shock.

Resting in the girl’s fair palm was a lustrous, dazzling white bead, radiating extraordinary energy, though it looked slightly different from Feng Shang’s own—its edges were faintly translucent.

“I used some of this one; I’ll give you a new one instead.” Jiumeng’s cheeks reddened as she turned her hand over, revealing yet another immaculate Primordial Seed, full and brilliant, even more vibrant than Feng Shang’s.

“You have more than one?” Feng Shang was even more astonished.

He had risked life and limb, contending with the nine-tailed cosmic spirit through both wit and force, just to obtain a single Primordial Seed.

Such treasures could be exchanged for celestial flowers, and yet this maiden could use them freely?

Who was she, truly, in the Flower Sea?

“I’ll give you all of them!”

Seeing Feng Shang’s apparent greed, Jiumeng gritted her teeth and simply took out all she had. In a flash of white light, three more Primordial Seeds appeared in her palm—spotless, lustrous, and crystal clear.

Feng Shang’s gaze sharpened.

Four Primordial Seeds in total—each one could be traded for a celestial blossom. Four seeds meant four such flowers. Even before entering the Black Cell, he had never dreamed of such a windfall.

His intention had only been to find a way out of the situation.

He never expected the girl’s little treasury to be so astonishing.

It was as if she were tempting him to sin.

“Deal!” Feng Shang agreed briskly, swiftly snatching up the four Primordial Seeds. He wondered what expression the Dance Deity would wear when they met later—utter shock? Or as if struck by lightning?

He accepted them.

Jiumeng’s eyes brightened briefly.

Though the Primordial Seeds were her vital sustenance, they could not compare to the importance of Wind-listening to her.

With her imminent awakening, even if she went a little hungry for a while, it was worth it to get Wind-listening back.

“The grass is yours.”

With four Primordial Seeds in hand, Feng Shang was in high spirits. With a grand sweep of his arm, the force of creation made his sleeves billow, and suddenly, a silly little creature tumbled out of nothingness, rolling and crying out as it landed.

Jiumeng immediately scooped her up into her arms.

“Wuu… Little Mistress, I thought I’d never see you again,” the little broken grass whimpered with grievance.

“It’s all right, you won’t be caught again.”

Jiumeng comforted her tenderly, gently stroking her soft leaves.

“Where’s that villain? Where is he? Did one of our Flower Sea’s divine lords capture him? That despicable brat, he ought to be spanked! Spank him hard!”

The little broken grass, after whining and snuggling in Jiumeng’s arms, suddenly bristled at the memory of her ordeal, shouting and hurling abuse at Feng Shang.

Jiumeng quickly covered the little grass, her bright eyes nervous as she glanced at Feng Shang, retreating several steps, only to see that the youth’s deep blue eyes were quietly gathering a chilling, icy severity.

“This time, I’ll let it go.”

To their surprise, Feng Shang’s tone was calm and nonchalant; the cold, murderous aura that had frozen the very air softened considerably.

Jiumeng breathed a sigh of relief, furrowing her brow and holding the slightly trembling little grass closer, giving her a cautioning look.

“I had to give up the Primordial Seeds to rescue you. You mustn’t anger our guest again,” she whispered to the grass.

“What! Little Mistress, those seeds are your vital sustenance! Ever since the first Flower Master, they’ve grown scarcer and scarcer—the First Divine Lord left them to help you grow, and you actually gave them to him!”

The little broken grass cried out in alarm.

“Sustenance?” Feng Shang’s brow furrowed, his gaze shifting abruptly.

On Jiumeng’s ethereal, lively face, her immortal beauty was gentle and pure, showing not a hint of worry. She comforted him, “Don’t fret, I still have some left. It’s all right.”

“Wuu… Little Mistress, you’re so good, to save me like this…” The little broken grass was moved to tears.