Chapter Four: The Divine Lord of the Sea of Flowers

The Gate of Apotheosis shimmered with radiant colors, standing tall against the vault of the heavens, its majestic aura overwhelming. Behind it stretched a sea of blossoms, hundreds of flowers in full bloom, filling the air with intoxicating fragrance.

As countless eyes watched in anticipation, a figure of breathtaking beauty and ethereal grace appeared, her melodious voice drifting gently forward. She was a woman of cool, otherworldly elegance, her pure and lustrous eyes sparkling with a light that seemed to penetrate the soul. Her entire being shimmered like snow and ice; the fairest part of her was her slender, elegant neck.

She wore a flowing dress of verdant green that accentuated her lithe figure—fresh, refined, utterly transcendent, like a celestial maiden from the palaces of the ninth heaven, her beauty untainted by the mortal world. With every step she took, petals danced and spiritual beings sang softly in her wake.

Her three thousand strands of hair gleamed like silk, coiled in a moon-cloud chignon. At her slim waist hung a pendant of Nine Seas Crystal, smooth and lustrous—a precious gem from the Starry Sea—its delicate tassels rippling lightly in the breeze.

She was the very embodiment of pure elegance, a banished immortal descending to the world.

Clear, bright eyes; pearly teeth and crimson lips. No matter how many words might be spent, none could truly capture her unique spirit and charm.

As she passed the Gate of Apotheosis, her luminous eyes curved in a smile directed at Da Jiuxing. That smile was so beautiful it could shake the very heart.

Instantly, the old cultivators assembled on the surrounding platforms found their breath quicken, their hearts racing in awe.

This woman emerging from the sea of flowers was too beautiful—almost unbearably so.

“Third Divine Sovereign of the Sea of Flowers… Fan Zhuyan!” someone whispered in a trembling voice.

Many began to study Da Jiuxing and Feng Shang more closely, a look of shock flickering in their eyes. These two—a venerable elder and a young boy—were clearly no ordinary people. Otherwise, why would a Divine Sovereign of the Sea of Flowers receive them in person?

“To see Sovereign Fan in person!”

“They say her mastery blossomed in the desolate lands, her insight born in the darkness of annihilation. She severed all bonds, transcended herself, and achieved an invincible spiritual form. Who are these two, to warrant her personal welcome?” a scholar in ritual robes exclaimed in awe.

It was said that Fan Zhuyan’s true form was a green bamboo; her path to enlightenment was filled with hardship and courage. She had severed herself many times, forgotten everything to rise anew, and was among the strongest of the Sea of Flowers Sovereigns.

“To be received by a Divine Sovereign—could he be a Domain Lord of the Great Thousand Cultivation Realms? Or perhaps from some mysterious, powerful force among the stars?” Some on the platform eyed Da Jiuxing, their gazes flickering with speculation.

“How fortunate we are today. Though we have no chance to enter the Sea of Flowers, we can at least observe the marvels of the Spiritual Sea Gate from outside. To witness a Sovereign of the Sea of Flowers step beyond her realm and see her divine visage—this journey is worth it.” A white-haired elder sighed.

Behind them, waves of divine sense surged, the crowd buzzing with excited speculation, growing noisy.

This clamor made Feng Shang, who had been quietly admiring the Sovereign’s beauty, frown. He turned and muttered disdainfully, “What’s all the fuss? Have you never seen the world before?”

Though his voice was soft, the cultivators on the platforms heard him nonetheless. Chastened by the young boy’s rebuke, their expressions turned awkward.

Experience is always relative.

This crowd of cultivators had no right to enter the Sea of Flowers; at best, they were minor figures. But the Sovereigns of the Sea of Flowers stood at the pinnacle of spiritual evolution in the cosmos—such beings of spiritual might! Not only had few seen them in person, not even their portraits circulated beyond their realm.

To encounter one by chance today was like a commoner suddenly glimpsing the legendary, aloof emperor who held power over life and death—a surge of emotion impossible to suppress.

“The young have good fortunes. How could they know the hardships we’ve faced?” At the edge of the platform, a white-haired elder shook his head with a wry smile.

To revere the mighty is a cosmic law in this world of spiritual energy. Without a noble background or overwhelming power, how could a weakling not gaze up in longing at those who dwell among the strong?

Yet here they were, made to feel foolish by a mere child.

How laughable.

…

“We have imposed upon the Sea of Flowers,” Da Jiuxing said with a smile. In terms of seniority, Fan Zhuyan was but a junior before him, and he could have put on airs. Yet before such a beautiful being, his mood was buoyant, and a touch of courtesy seemed only fitting.

“When the former Flower Lord first blossomed, she was graced by your favor. You will forever be an honored guest of the Sea of Flowers,” Fan Zhuyan replied, gently inclining her head. Then she raised a slender, alabaster hand, and at her wrist burst forth a radiance of nine colors. Instantly, countless shimmering rainbows spanned the starry sky, weaving and swirling.

A vast divine bridge soon arched from the Gate of Apotheosis to Da Jiuxing’s feet.

Upon this bridge, petals lay thick as clouds—soft, fragrant, dreamlike, conjured by mighty spells.

Feng Shang darted ahead of Da Jiuxing, testing a few steps on the bridge. He gave a soft exclamation, then hurried forward in great strides. In the blink of an eye, he had crossed the wondrous bridge and stood before the Gate of Apotheosis.

“So swift! Such distance across the stars, made into seven or eight steps for her—just what is this beautiful woman’s true strength?” Feng Shang marveled inwardly. Lifting his eyes with curiosity, he studied Fan Zhuyan’s fairy-like face, utterly unafraid, meeting the clear, autumnal brilliance of her gaze directly.

Fan Zhuyan was beautiful—so beautiful it was almost impossible to look at her directly.

Spiritual beings who take on human form are seldom anything less than lovely, but she was the most revered among the Sea of Flowers Sovereigns.

Many years ago, she was already renowned throughout the cosmos. Once, during a journey beyond her realm, a young cultivator glimpsed her and was instantly smitten. From that fleeting encounter, he thought of her day and night.

Knowing his heart was ensnared, the young man laughed openly, followed his heart, and journeyed to the Sea of Flowers.

He was a man of rare quality, exceptional in every way. Choosing the best among the best, he was truly outstanding.

The young cultivator spared no effort and spent many treasures to enlist a certain unreliable Divine Sovereign of the Sea of Flowers as matchmaker. At last, they met in a garden of the Sea of Flowers.

Upon seeing her, he poured out his feelings with honest candor, hoping Fan Zhuyan would become his lifelong partner.

But when his words fell—

Fan Zhuyan cast him a cool glance.

A green bamboo, fresh and radiant, pierced through the luminous barrier and sent him flying out of the Sea of Flowers.

From then on, the cosmos had a new joke to share.

This flawless woman, who once left a cultivator humiliated, was now being so intently “admired” by the rather impolite Feng Shang—yet she remained serene.

“Is there a flower on my face?” she asked at last, her voice still ethereal and pleasing, making one’s ears tingle.

Feng Shang stroked his chin, studied her for a long moment, then frowned in puzzlement. “No flower, but you do look somehow familiar. Strange—I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

“We have not met,” Fan Zhuyan replied, shaking her head. Her peerless face bore a hint of certainty and a sanctity that could not be profaned, making those around her feel awed. The boy’s boldness bordered on insolence.

“What’s the story behind the scar on your hand?” Feng Shang, no longer staring at her face, let his curious gaze fall to her left hand, folded at her waist.

After a beat of thought, he stepped forward and, without hesitation, took her clean, fair, delicate hand in his own.