“A magnificent specimen,” Empress Chi Mei purred, her voice a silken ribbon unspooling in his mind. “Almost a flawless Grade-4 Emerald Lungwort. Pity you won’t live to see its full bloom.”
Yanting gritted his teeth, the pain blossoming into a searing inferno with each shallow breath. He’d refined the kinetic energy, yes, but at the cost of accelerating his most immediate, horrifying mutation. His vision swam at the edges, a faint scent of fresh moss and damp earth rising from his chest. He staggered out of the Crucible Arena, ignoring the awed whispers and the furious glares from Lin Zichen’s retinue. His deadpan mask, usually impenetrable, felt like a brittle ceramic shell about to crack.
Tuoba Shan, ever observant, met him at the arena’s mouth, his hands already kneading a small ball of dough. “That’s not sweat, is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern. “You’re glowing like a bioluminescent river frog.”
Yanting merely coughed, a dry, rasping sound that vibrated with the nascent life inside his chest. He pulled Tuoba towards the quieter back alleys of the sect. “Catalyst,” he rasped, the single word a struggle. “Now.”
Chi Mei chimed in, her amusement evident. “He needs something impossibly pure, little baker boy. Something capable of anchoring a Core Formation breakthrough against a full botanical invasion. The sect’s forbidden treasury houses a single, exquisite Frost Moon Lotus. If he can absorb its essence, it *might* stabilize him long enough.”
Tuoba Shan took a step back, mouth agape. “The Frost Moon Lotus? But that’s in the Grand Alchemist’s Forbidden Repository! It’s guarded by Elder Fenris’s Spirit-Iron Golems and the entire Crimson Shield Ward array!”
Yanting just stared at him, his gaze unblinking. The emerald light was becoming harder to conceal. He didn’t have time for obstacles. Tuoba sighed, a familiar resignation settling over him. “Alright, alright. Another impossible task. Do I get to make a mess?”
“A significant one,” Chi Mei encouraged. “Preferably something that sends guards screaming for their ancestors.”
Hours later, under the cloak of a moonless night, they stood before the massive, rune-etched doors of the Grand Alchemist’s Forbidden Repository. The air thrummed with ancient wards, and the silhouettes of slumbering Spirit-Iron Golems loomed in the gloom. Tuoba Shan, however, looked more excited than intimidated. He set down a heavy sack, untying the knot with a flourish.
“Behold, my friend!” he whispered, pulling out an impeccably golden, fist-sized bun. “The ‘Devouring Doughnut of Desecration’!” He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, then spat it out. “Still needs work. Too much anise.” He then produced a tray of smaller, finely glazed pastries, each one glowing faintly with internal energy. “But these… these are my ‘Blazing Butter Buns of Bedlam’!”
With a mischievous grin, Tuoba flicked a wrist, sending a dozen of the buns sailing towards the nearest Spirit-Iron Golem. As they struck the metallic surface, they didn't just bounce. They exploded, not with fire, but with a sticky, golden syrup that instantly began to expand and solidify, locking the golem’s joints. Before the alarm could even truly register, Tuoba unleashed a torrent of confectionary chaos. Gingerbread men with razor-sharp candy cane limbs skittered across the ground, biting at the ankles of passing guards. Macarons, infused with a potent beast-taming essence, levitated and began pelting the Crimson Shield Ward, their sweet impact overloading the protective runes. A colossal, aggressively puffed-up croissant, the size of a small carriage, rolled through the courtyard, bowling over surprised sect enforcers like pins. The entire courtyard erupted into a symphony of confused shouts, panicked yelps, and the distinct, squelching sounds of pastry-based assault.
“The perimeter is compromised!” a guard shrieked, covered head-to-toe in what appeared to be sentient blueberry jam. “We’re under attack by… baked goods!”
Yanting, unfazed by the sugary mayhem, slipped through the now-flickering ward. The green glow from his chest was brighter, throbbing with an insistent rhythm. He followed Chi Mei’s mental map, navigating a labyrinth of shelves stacked with ancient elixirs and potent herbs. The air grew colder, purer, drawing him towards a central chamber. He pushed open a heavy stone door, revealing a cavern bathed in soft, cerulean light. In the center, a crystalline pool shimmered, its waters still and deep. And there, floating gently on the surface, was the Frost Moon Lotus, its petals a luminous, icy white.
But the lotus was not alone.
Submerged in the spiritual spring, her long, ink-black hair fanned out around her like a midnight halo, was a woman. Her eyes were closed, her face serene, body completely bare as she performed a complex breathing technique, drawing in the frigid spiritual energy. It was Lin Zichen’s fiancée, Fairy Su, the acclaimed ‘Jade Blossom of Canglan’, rumored to be as cold and proud as she was beautiful. Yanting’s gaze swept past her without a flicker of acknowledgment, his eyes fixed solely on the lotus.
The viridian shimmer from his chest pulsed violently. He plunged his hand into the icy water, ignoring the shock, and seized the Frost Moon Lotus. He yanked it free, water sluicing from its roots, and brought it close to his chest, the green glow instantly intensifying, drawing the lotus’s essence into him. As he did, his gaze briefly flickered to Fairy Su, still in her meditative pose, before he clicked his tongue.
“Your Breath of the Azure Dragon technique,” he stated, his voice flat, his eyes devoid of any interest in her state of undress. “The third exhalation is flawed. You’re dissipating valuable Qi through your lower dantian instead of redirecting it to the Heart Palace. Subpar.”
With the lotus secured, Yanting turned to leave, his mission accomplished. Fairy Su’s eyes snapped open, blazing with a fury that could melt permafrost. Her porcelain features contorted in disbelief, then rage. He had not only ignored her, not only stolen the sacred lotus from *her* spring, but he had critiqued her technique as if she were a common novice, all while she was… exposed. The utter, unadulterated humiliation of the moment was too much. A guttural scream tore from her throat, raw and unrestrained.
“Thief! Impudent wretch! Guards! ALARM!”
The entire chamber vibrated. Runes flared across the ceiling and walls, pulsing with an angry red light. With a deafening grind, the colossal stone vault door, its surface now etched with a glowing, impenetrable array, slammed shut behind him.