Aaryan felt their eyes on him—some mocking, some pitying, most just waiting for him to crumble. To them, he wasn’t a person. Just a distraction. A momentary spectacle to break the monotony of camp life.

  Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have cared. Let them watch. Let them whisper. But today was different. Today, their stares pressed against him like an invisible weight, thick and suffocating. The murmurs wrapped around him, anticipation sharpening the air. One wrong step, one misplaced word, and this wouldn’t end with just bruises.

  His heartbeat remained steady. But there was a heaviness in his chest. A cold awareness of how precarious this moment was.

  Still, outwardly, nothing changed. No tension in his shoulders. No flicker of hesitation. Just that same faint, almost amused smile—one that suggested he had no concern about being bound like a criminal.

  He clasped his hands together. Bowed slightly. Then, in a calm and measured voice, he spoke.

  “This flower may resemble the Twelve-Petal Earthly Lily,” he said, his words carrying through the stillness, “but it’s not. It’s the Blue Vein Ground Flora. A near-perfect mimic.” A pause. “Consuming it won’t enhance cultivation. It will cripple it.”

  The shift was immediate. Subtle, but there.

  The certainty that had gripped the camp just moments ago wavered. Expressions darkened with doubt.

  “Blue Vein… what?” someone muttered.

  “Never heard of it.” A furrowed brow. Uncertainty creeping in.

  A scoff from the back. “Sounds made up.”

  “It does look like the Twelve-Petal Earthly Lily,” another voice admitted, hesitant now.

  “But what if it isn’t?” Someone else, quieter. Uneasy. “I heard the Blue Vein Ground Flora is poisonous.”

  There it was. The first crack in their certainty.

  Aaryan tracked their reactions, already knowing what would come next.

  And right on cue—

  “Are you questioning Junior Chief Nayan’s knowledge?” A sneer from one of Nayan’s men. Sharp. Condescending. “You think he’d make such a mistake?”

  There it was. The moment doubt was introduced, the next step was always blind loyalty.

  “He’s just making excuses,” someone muttered.

  “Always causing trouble.”

  Aaryan remained still. Watching. Waiting.

  Let them believe what they want. It didn’t change the truth.

  A few exchanged glances, their eyes flashing with something between irritation and disdain. It was easier to believe Aaryan was lying than to even consider the idea that Nayan could be wrong.

  Nayan, silent until now, finally spoke. “Do you think we’re fools, Aaryan?”

  No theatrics. Just cold, sharp edges. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The way he said Aaryan’s name—like it was something vile on his tongue—was enough.

  Aaryan had expected hostility. He hadn’t expected fury.

  “You think you can fool us so easily?” Nayan’s fingers drummed against the hilt of his sword, irritation barely leashed. “I’ve seen the Twelve-Petal Earthly Lily with my own eyes. The characteristics match. Men, take him away.”

  Aaryan didn’t move. His fingers twitched before he forced them still, his palms sticky with sweat. He inhaled slowly, keeping his voice level.

  “Junior Chief,” he said, measured, controlled. “Examine the last two petals on the bottom. You’ll see a blue vein structure unique to the Blue Vein Ground Flora.”

  Silence stretched thin.

  Sharan hesitated.

  Unlike the others, he wouldn’t dismiss something just because he didn’t like the person who said it. Aaryan knew, he had studied herbs for years. Even if he had never seen this one himself, he wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the possibility.

  A small gesture, and Aman, the eldest, nodded. A few men stepped forward to inspect the petals. The three brothers moved away, speaking in low voices, leaving Aaryan standing alone.

  He watched them carefully, kept his breathing steady. If they didn’t believe him, there was no escape. He had to shift the blame before they made up their minds—or he wouldn’t make it out of this in one piece.

  Seconds stretched. Too long. Too quiet.

  Then Aman turned first, his voice even. “What you said is true.”

  Relief flickered in Aaryan’s chest, but before he could speak, Sharan’s gaze sharpened. “But the veins on the petals aren’t fully formed.”

  Aaryan’s stomach dropped.

  Sharan wasn’t wrong. The Blue Vein Ground Flora only developed fully when matured. But that was a detail most wouldn’t even think to check.

  Sharan continued, his voice smooth yet edged like a sharpened blade. “Only one petal has a fully developed vein pattern. The rest are incomplete. If my memory serves, each petal should mirror the others.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Aaryan schooled his expression, but a flicker of unease coiled in his gut. This wasn’t just a minor inconvenience. It was a crack in his argument, and cracks had a way of spreading. The question now was simple—would they overlook it, or would they dig deeper?

  He refused to give them the opportunity.

  With a practiced bow, he let his words flow like a gentle stream—unrushed, deliberate. “Junior Chief’s insight is unmatched. My own understanding pales in comparison. I merely wished to offer a glimpse of what I have studied.”

  Not a retreat. Not an admission of error.

  A redirection.

  And just like that, the weight of the discussion shifted.

  A ripple passed through the crowd, subtle but unmistakable. Some exchanged hushed words, their eyes flicking between Aaryan and Sharan. Others frowned, caught between scepticism and grudging curiosity. Yet the moment of certainty—the moment where they might have pounced—had passed. Doubt had crept in, and it wasn’t Aaryan who wore it.

  Across from him, the leader of the opposing group clenched his fists, a shadow crossing his face. He had relied on flattery and careful misdirection before. Now, his own methods had been turned against him. And Aaryan had done it so smoothly that any attempt to counter would seem like petulance.

  Seizing the moment, Aaryan continued, his voice steady, lacking embellishment. “At first glance, both plants are indistinguishable. Unless you know precisely what to examine, mistakes are inevitable. The Blue Vein Ground Flora only forms its distinct veins when fully matured. This specimen was plucked too soon. That is why only two petals bear the signature pattern. Had it been left to develop, the markings would have been consistent across all.”

  A scoff broke the hush. “Ten-petal, twelve-petal—what does it matter? It’s a damn flower.”

  A few grunted in agreement, their expressions unimpressed.

  “Sounds like a stretch,” another muttered, arms crossed.

  The wind shifted, carrying the damp scent of crushed leaves. Even the trees seemed to pause, expectant.

  Sharan did not speak. His face revealed nothing, but his stare was keen, weighing. Aaryan could feel it pressing against him, dissecting his words, testing their foundation. An unspoken challenge.

  He couldn’t afford to wait as hesitation meant surrender.

  So, he moved first.

  “I didn’t pluck the flower because it was incomplete,” Aaryan said, voice smooth, unwavering. “It hadn’t borne fruit yet—the real prize. That fruit is highly valued, not for medicine, not for alchemy, but for poisons. The flower itself? Practically worthless. But someone got impatient. Someone destroyed it before I could report back to you, Junior Chief. And now, here we are.”

  A sharp inhale cut through the gathering. Whispers coiled through the air, hushed but urgent. Feet shifted. Shoulders tensed. The man who had plucked the flower stiffened, his expression twisting between rage and panic. His mouth opened—then snapped shut. No immediate retort came. His breath grew shallow, uneven. “You—” he started, but the words tangled, catching in his throat like thorns.

  Then—footsteps. Measured. Heavy.

  Two men clad in silver armour stepped forward. The enforcers. The regional commander’s hand. The moment they moved, the low murmurs died, snuffed out like candle flames.

  The one on the left, lean-faced with a sharp, birdlike nose, let a slow smirk creep across his lips. “A lot of noise over something that has a simple fix.”

  His partner, broader, lazier in stance, chuckled under his breath. “Yeah. Just have one of you eat a petal. That’ll clear things up real quick.”

  The words landed like a rock thrown into still water. The ripples were immediate. A shift, small but unmistakable. Even those who had been eager to see Aaryan falter now looked uneasy.

  The enforcers weren’t here for justice.

  They were here for entertainment.

  Aaryan kept his breathing steady, though his pulse drummed hard against his ribs. He hadn’t anticipated this turn, but now, control had slipped from his grasp. He flicked a glance toward Sharan.

  A pause. A shift of fingers curling, then relaxing. Almost imperceptible.

  Sharan’s face remained impassive, but his mind was working. If Aaryan was right, they had been seconds from making a grave mistake. If Aaryan was lying… it didn’t matter. The moment of hesitation had already reshaped the balance.

  Then, Sharan turned—slow, deliberate. His gaze landed on the man who had plucked the flower.

  “You.” His voice was quiet. Absolute. “Eat it.”

  Silence thickened, pressing in.

  The accused man’s hand twitched. He stared down at the petal resting in his palm. His breath came fast, his chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic movements. A single drop of sweat traced a slow path down his temple. He swallowed hard.

  Someone in the crowd shifted, stepping back slightly. “This… is going to be bad.”

  Another man wet his lips nervously. “What if it is poisonous?”

  The silver-armoured men exchanged amused glances. The sharp-nosed one tilted his head slightly, watching with open curiosity. His partner chuckled again, voice barely above a murmur. “This should be fun.”

  Aaryan kept his face carefully neutral, though the corner of his mouth threatened to twitch. He had read about this kind of reaction before—not from medical texts, but from experience. If his guess was right, things were about to get… interesting.

  The man took a deep, unsteady breath and popped the petal into his mouth.

  The crowd collectively leaned in.

  A second passed. Then another.

  His face twitched. First confusion, then alarm.

  His stomach gave a deep, ominous growl.

  Sharan’s eyes narrowed. “Is it working?”

  Someone took a careful step backward.

  Another gulped audibly.

  The air was thick with anticipation.

  Then—

  Pffffffffffffffffffffffftttttttttttttttttttttttttttt—

  The sound tore through the silence like a war drum.

  The crowd froze.

  A stunned pause. Then ……. Chaos.

  Half the group stumbled back, expressions twisting between shock, horror, and barely contained laughter. A villager let out a strangled yelp. Someone gagged. Another cursed, frantically waving a hand in front of his nose, as if that could erase the damage already done.

  The armoured men? They were gone. Doubled over, gasping, one of them clutched his stomach while the other wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, this—this was worth the wait!” he wheezed between laughs.

  The man who had eaten the petal trembled violently, his hands pressing into his gut as if that could stop the betrayal raging within. “W-what did you make me eat?!” he croaked, voice laced with both terror and regret.

  Aaryan let out a slow, measured breath. His lips twitched, but he forced them still. He had aimed for chaos, but this? This was beyond his expectations. If the armoured men were entertained, that meant they wouldn’t bother looking deeper into his words. And if things got just a little more out of hand, slipping away unnoticed would be even easier. All he had to do was play along—just enough to avoid suspicion.

  His gaze flicked to Sharan. The boy didn’t laugh. His expression remained unreadable, fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against his arm. His gaze never left Aaryan, studying, calculating. Aaryan felt it, that quiet tension building between them. Sharan parted his lips as if to speak, but only exhaled. Whatever thought flickered behind his eyes, Aaryan couldn’t read it, not yet.

  Aaryan’s attention shifted back to the commotion around them, but his senses remained sharp, tuned to Sharan’s every move.

  The moment stretched. Sharan’s fingers stilled. A quiet thought passed behind his gaze before he turned to Aman, murmuring something too low to hear.

  Meanwhile, Nayan’s face twisted into a mask of fury. “Enough of this nonsense!” he snapped, voice cutting through the commotion. “He—”

  His words never landed.

  One of the armoured men clapped him on the shoulder, still chuckling. “Relax, Junior Chief. We all needed a good laugh today.”

  The breath hitched in Nayan’s throat. His fingers twitched near his sword hilt, knuckles paling from the force of his grip. But what could he do? The moment had slipped from his hands.

  No one was listening.

  Aaryan let his shoulders ease, his stance shifting just enough to fade into the background. Quiet. Unremarkable. Just another commoner.

  https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/108046/destiny-reckoninga-xianxia-cultivation-progression