Blossoming Path

"Well, this is the place."

My destination was a small, unassuming building at the end of the street. Its wooden fa?ade showed signs of wear, the paint peeling in places, and the signboard above the door swayed gently in the breeze.

Wandering Wind Press, it read, the letters faded and chipped, giving it a look of quiet dignity. Despite its disrepair, there was something inviting about the place.

I pushed open the creaky door, the bell above jingling softly to announce my arrival. The scent of old paper and ink greeted me, wrapping around me like a familiar embrace. The interior was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced on the walls. Shelves filled with books lined the walls, their spines displaying titles in elegant calligraphy. The smell of ink and old paper was strong, mingling with the faint scent of incense burning in a corner. A small window allowed a beam of sunlight to filter through, illuminating motes of dust floating in the air.

An old man with ink-stained sleeves and closed eyes stood behind the counter. His movements were slow but precise, each action deliberate and careful.

"Good day," he greeted me, his voice soft yet clear. "How may I assist you?"

"I'm looking for Liang Feng's novels. I was told this was where I could acquire them."

"Ah, Liang Feng," the old man said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A popular request. You'll find his works on the second shelf to your left. Please, take your time."

I nodded and moved towards the indicated section, my eyes darting over the spines of the books. Familiar titles caught my eye, bringing back memories of late-night reading sessions: Storm Sage Chronicles, A Journey to the North... But there were also new titles, ones I hadn't seen before. As I held the books in my hands, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. These stories had been my companions during countless lonely nights, their characters my mentors and friends. Now, as I stood on the brink of a new chapter in my own story, I felt a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

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"You have quite the collection here," I remarked, pulling a few books off the shelf to examine them more closely. The other shelves were laden with cultivator tales and similar works of fiction, but under different authors.

"Thank you," he replied, inclining his head slightly. "We strive to offer the best selection for our patrons. Liang Feng's works are among our most cherished. His tales have a way of capturing the imagination, don't they?"

I nodded, a smile spreading across my face. "They do indeed. His stories have been a source of inspiration for me. I grew up on the Storm Sage Chronicles."

"Really? What'd you like about it?"

"Mostly how he portrays the wanderer's lifestyle," I said, my eyes scanning the shelves. "The way cultivators are written so colorfully, their journeys filled with both adventure and hardship. It's like you can feel the wind in your hair and the dust under your feet."

The old man nodded, a soft smile on his lips. "Liang Feng does have a talent for bringing his characters to life."

I pulled another book from the shelf, its cover depicting a lone figure standing atop a mountain peak. "Though, I do wish some aspects were more accurate to real life," I added with a slight shrug.

"Oh? Do elaborate."

"Well, for one thing," I said, turning to face him, "I'm an alchemist, and in the series, alchemy is portrayed as this ritualistic, almost mystical practice. In reality, it's much closer to cooking. Precise measurements, careful timing, and knowing your ingredients. It was quite a shock when I entered my first alchemy class expecting grand incantations and found myself chopping herbs and stirring cauldrons instead."

The old man let out a soft chuckle. "Ah, but a good storyteller must capture the essence of a craft, not merely its mundane details. Perhaps Liang Feng sought to convey the transformative power of alchemy, not its precise methodology."

That's true. Capturing every nuance would be quite the task.

"And then there are the characters," I continued, my tone lightening. "These are great stories, but sometimes the characters make really dumb decisions. In the second book, when Elder Xiaochun got tricked by the Storm Sage, why would a cultivator who's lived for centuries fall for such an obvious trap?"

The old man paused, a hint of surprise and amusement on his face. "Perhaps it's a reminder that wisdom doesn't always guarantee good judgment."

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I chuckled, nodding in agreement. "You have a point there. Wisdom and judgment don't always go hand in hand."

I remembered Elder—Sect Leader Jun. It was hard calling him by his actual title now. Even though he was a ruthless man, I still managed to one-up him in our wager. Nobody was invincible.

With a pile of new books, I carried it over to the counter. Windy poked out of my sleeve, flicking his tongue out curiously. Tianyi fluttered in circles over the man's head, our emotional bond flowing with waves of curiosity. The shopkeeper didn't react.

"I'll take these."

The old man carefully accepted the stack of books, his fingers moving deftly over the covers and spines, as if reading the titles through touch. It was then that I noticed the precision in his movements, the way he placed each book down with exacting care.

"Ah, a fine selection," he remarked, his tone appreciative. "You have good taste."

I watched him, and my suspicions were confirmed—he was blind. The old man's eyes remained closed as he worked, his other senses seemingly heightened to compensate.

He named the total, which was surprisingly reasonable considering the number of books I had chosen. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a gold piece, handing it to him.

"Here, this should cover it. Keep the change as a token of appreciation for continuing to produce Liang Feng's works."

The old man accepted the gold piece with a gracious nod. "Thank you, young master. Your generosity is much appreciated. Enjoy your reading, and do come by again. We update our catalogue frequently."

As I turned to leave, I couldn't help but wonder.

How could a blind man read and know the characters from Liang Feng's novels so well when he was unable to see?

I shook my head. That was a mystery for another time, I suppose.

Once outside, I took a deep breath, the fresh air a welcome contrast to the musty interior of the shop. I looked down at the books in my arms, feeling a sense of excitement and nostalgia. Liang Feng's tales had been a part of my life for so long, and now I had new stories to dive into.

"Elder Ming's going to be excited!"

The sky was beginning to darken, and soon, I'd have to meet up with Feng Wu. There was no telling what would happen if I was caught on my lonesome again.

As I walked, I checked over my mental list. I've gotten gifts for everybody back home, said my farewells to my new friends and acquaintances.

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I've handled all my loose ends.

My mind flashed back to a certain blue-eyed alchemist, and I shook my head quickly.

"There's no need. We don't know each other like that, anyway..."

I ignored the weird, fluttery feeling in my stomach as I continued to the inn. There, I saw Feng Wu waiting outside with the cart and horses. He noticed me approaching and smiled.

"Did you get everything you need?"

I nodded, pointing to the ring on my finger. "All here. At least it won't be too heavy of a load on the horses."

"Make sure to check the weight it can carry. It's usually marked on the inner diameter. It'll refuse to work past that."

I took off the ring and saw it clearly marked. Five shi, huh? About the weight of five people. The pill furnace alone was likely more than half the ring's capacity, so it was fortunate I finished my shopping within the designed limit. The thought of lugging that thing around without this was daunting.

We entered the inn for one last time, making sure we didn't leave anything before handing the keys to the front desk.

I lingered at the inn's entrance, my gaze sweeping over the familiar surroundings one last time. The bustling streets, the vibrant market stalls—Crescent Bay City had been my home for the past few weeks, a place of trials and tribulations, of triumphs and defeats. A mere moment in time, but it was here that I had forged friendships, honed my skills, and faced challenges that pushed me to my limits.

A bittersweet pang tugged at my heart as I thought of the friends I was leaving behind.

A gentle hand on my shoulder pulled me from my reverie. "Ready to go, Kai?" Feng Wu's voice, warm and reassuring, broke through the silence.

"Yes," I replied, my voice a bit husky. "I'm ready."

We climbed onto the cart, Tianyi settling comfortably on my lap while Windy coiled around my arm. As the horses pulled us away from the inn, I couldn't help but take one last look at the city that had become a part of me.

White flakes landed on my nose as we departed.

"Hey, it's snowing! I suppose this is our first official winter together, eh?"

I looked down at the two spirit beasts. Windy poked out my sleeve, looking upward with his large, blue eyes to observe the snowflakes, before retreating back into the warmth of my robes. Tianyi seemed to stave off the cold with her bluish aura, unaffected by the cold.

The cart continued to move forward amidst the snowfall. The crisp air was filled with the fresh scent of winter, each breath invigorating and clear.

It took a few hours to make our way back to the Verdant Lotus sect. The blanket of snow that surrounded the area stopped just at the perimeter of the compound.

It was nearing midnight when we finally arrived. We passed through the entrance, where the disciples guarding it greeted us warmly.

"You must be tired," Feng Wu said. "Go rest. I'll put the cart away and report to the mission chamber."

With that, I bade him goodnight and walked towards the guest quarters. My room, untouched since my departure, greeted me with a chaotic jumble of books and alchemical notes. A reminder of the whirlwind of the past few weeks, and the relentless pursuit of knowledge and skill that had consumed me.

I set down Tianyi and let Windy slither out of my sleeve. I looked out the window and sighed.

What now?

The question echoed in the hollow chambers of my heart.

The Gauntlet was over. The fire that had fueled my every move, the relentless drive to prove myself, had dwindled to a mere ember. A sense of emptiness gnawed at me, a void where ambition and purpose once resided.

I closed my eyes, the image of Jingyu Lian's triumphant smile flashing before me. The sting of defeat, the bitterness of falling short, still lingered, a persistent ache that refused to fade.

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Xu Ziqing's words, once dismissed as mere provocation, now echoed with chilling clarity. I had been so focused on the Gauntlet, on proving my worth as an alchemist, that I had neglected the other aspects of my cultivation.

He was right. Even though I had grown immensely since I first stepped foot into the Jianghu, it still wasn't enough.

My hand reached into my pocket, closing around the smooth, cool surface of the beast core. It was time to harness its power, to push my cultivation to new heights.

"Hopefully Elder Zhu doesn't mind helping me with this."

The recipe to refine the beast core wasn't complex, but it was resource-intensive. It was etched into my memory, and would require meticulous precision and unwavering focus. But I was no longer the hesitant novice I once was. I had the Refinement Simulation Technique, the Two-Star Pagoda Pill Furnace, and a burning desire to prove myself.

With a newfound sense of purpose, I settled into bed, eager to embrace the restorative power of sleep. But as I closed my eyes, my mind buzzed with restless energy. The thrill of the Gauntlet, the adrenaline rush of the battle, still coursed through my veins.

My body and mind, rewired from countless late nights of study and work, couldn't find solace going to sleep without doing anything of note.

Sleep, it seemed, was a luxury I couldn't afford. Not yet.

I sat up and crossed my legs on the bed, deciding to meditate. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, centering myself. The Crimson Lotus Purification Technique had always been a reliable method to calm my mind and focus my energies.

Time seemed to lose meaning as I continued to cultivate. The rhythmic flow of qi through my meridians was like a gentle river, washing away the remnants of doubt and fatigue.

Your Qi has reached Qi Initiation Stage - Rank 2