When you bloom in rot, your fragrance terrifies even the heavens

  I. Roots of RevoltThe roots obeyed.

  They surged upward, snarling through dirt and moss like vipers awoken by blood. Each carried the scent of fermented spirit herbs, alchemical ash, and the will of Moyao, whose voice now stirred not only within Aduin’s dantian—but in the very forest that had fed him.

  “Enough hiding,” Aduin whispered. “Let’s see if rot can swallow steel.”

  Above the treetops, the formation lights of the Storm Lantern Pavilion flickered. Their floating pace—engraved with talismans older than most sects—dimmed slightly as spiritual interference thickened.

  Han Chao, the silver-sleeved Envoy, narrowed his eyes.

  “This... smell. He has bound the vegetation. But it’s not beastcraft. It’s something fouler.”

  A junior behind him hesitated.

  “Senior Han... shall we request reinforcements?”

  Han Chao didn’t respond. He lowered one sleeve—revealing a silver folding fan carved with nine storm glyphs. He flicked it open once.

  The forest trembled.

  “No need. If we can’t subdue a feral alchemist, the Pavilion doesn’t deserve its ntern.”

  II. The First StrikeAduin moved like a ghost.

  Under the canopy, his body blurred—cloaked in spores and the faint haze of a forbidden breathing technique: the Root Cycle Form, a method that converted decayed Qi into internal power, chaining it through his marrow before sending it in pulses into Moyao.

  Behind him, a spiraling vine erupted—its tip hardened into ironwood thorns.

  One Pavilion disciple was impaled midair.

  “YUN GE!”

  Han Chao’s fan snapped again.

  With a hum, a glyph fired out, slicing through the vine—but not fast enough.

  Yun Ge’s body fell to the forest floor—his soul light extinguished.

  The Hollow had tasted blood.

  Aduin whispered:

  “One down.”

  III. Moyao AwakensInside his core, Moyao trembled.

  No longer passive.

  The soul-root, once a mere artifact, now coiled like a beast. Its root nodes pulsed with spore energy and spiritual fragments from the fallen disciple.

  It spoke.

  Not in words.But in memory.

  Visions of a past master who cultivated it long ago… and was devoured by it.

  “You feed me death... I give you growth.”

  Aduin inhaled sharply.

  His Qi fred unnaturally dark — not demonic, but twisted by decomposition and alchemy. His left arm hardened, nails turning root-bck. Veins across his forearm formed branching paths — not bloodlines, but root channels.

  He understood now.

  “Moyao is not a tool. It is a cultivation partner. One that devours and rebirths.”

  IV. Lanterns ExtinguishedThe forest became a battlefield.

  Han Chao moved through the air like lightning—each flick of his fan releasing storm glyphs that exploded on impact. Trees fell. Mist parted. Formation lines restructured mid-combat.

  But Aduin had no sect.

  No rules.

  He used melted cauldrons as traps, triggered pestilent spores to ignite under pressure, and carved alchemy sigils with his blood. It was dirty war. Unorthodox.

  But deadly.

  A second disciple died, lungs bursting from Wither Bloom Powder hidden inside a fallen plum blossom.

  “He’s a lunatic!” one of them shouted. “He uses corpse techniques and rogue alchemy—this isn’t cultivation, it’s bsphemy!”

  Han Chao’s voice echoed cold:

  “Then die bsphemed.”

  He raised his fan high.

  Nine Glyph Storm Array — a Pavilion-exclusive technique — formed overhead.

  Aduin stared at the glyphs.

  Then smiled.

  “I’ve studied your formation manuals. My technique is filth. But it’s the kind of filth that corrodes legacy.”

  He crushed a decayed Meridian Fruit, releasing noxious mist.

  Then leapt—directly into the storm.

  V. The Reverse Bloom TechniqueAs the glyphs cut him midair, Aduin channeled all his internal Qi in reverse — not outward, but inward.

  Root Cycle Form: Second Gate — Reversal Bloom.

  He took the damage.

  Converted it.

  Pain became fuel.

  Suffering became pressure.

  Each time a glyph carved his body, a new spiritual root blossomed within his meridians, reinforcing the structure.

  Han Chao’s eyes widened.

  “He’s... improving under attack?!”

  Aduin roared.

  A thorned vine burst from his spine, snaring one of the nine glyphs and dragging it into the earth.

  Then a second.

  Then a third.

  The Nine Glyph Storm Array faltered.

  ?? VI. Duel of DaoHan Chao descended.

  The battlefield cleared.

  Only two remained:

  Aduin—his robes torn, body bleeding, but eyes alive with bck fme.

  Han Chao—silver robes glowing, fan now surrounded by crackling thunder.

  They stared.

  No words.

  Then they cshed.

  Fan met rootbde — a weapon Aduin had forged from the rib of a dead Rootling and the spine of a failed pill beast.

  Each strike shook the forest.

  Han Chao’s strikes were elegant, structured, forged from centuries of tradition.

  Aduin’s were chaotic, mutated, sharp from the edge of rot.

  They were night and day.

  But night had grown teeth.

  VII. The Marrow TrialMid-duel, Aduin’s heart skipped.

  Moyao screamed in his core.

  “Now. The marrow test. If you live, I awaken fully.”

  His spiritual veins inverted.

  The Root Cycle Breathing Form surged into overdrive.

  Every muscle in his body convulsed as a third root node opened.

  His cultivation dropped half a stage—again.

  Han Chao took the opportunity.

  “Fool.”

  He struck—aiming at Aduin’s heart.

  The fan connected.

  But the moment it touched, Moyao reacted.

  The strike passed through, but hit a decoy body—a bark-carved shell Aduin had grown from root tissue seconds before.

  Aduin’s real form dropped from a branch behind him.

  “You rely on sight.”

  He plunged his rootbde into Han Chao’s back.

  It didn’t kill him.

  But it injected rot directly into his dantian.

  VIII. ColpseHan Chao staggered back.

  He sshed at the air—glyphs forming defensively. His breathing was unstable. His core was being invaded by dead spiritual matter.

  “You... heretic... you’ll regret this...”

  He tried to rise into the air.

  But Aduin had bound the entire valley with spores.

  Flight was impossible.

  The forest closed in.

  Moyao pulsed.

  “He’s yours.”

  Aduin walked toward him slowly. His steps silent. Each step sank a little deeper into spiritual compost.

  Han Chao screamed, releasing one final technique—Heavenbreaker Bolt.

  It struck Aduin’s chest—burning through skin, cracking ribs.

  He fell to one knee.

  But ughed.

  “Thank you. That pain... just opened my fourth root.”

  He stood again.

  Rootbde in hand.

  Han Chao was on the ground.

  Aduin raised his weapon.

  “I asked the forest who you were. It said you’re compost.”

  He struck.

  The forest was silent.

  Epilogue: MutationNight fell.

  The Hollow was quiet again.

  Only bones and broken nterns remained.

  Aduin sat cross-legged in the center of the devastation, bleeding, meditating.

  Inside him, Moyao twisted.

  And changed.

  Its core unfolded into a lotus-shaped spore bank, its tendrils pulsing with new light.

  A new function had awakened:

  Spiritual Spore Cultivation — the ability to pnt fragments of his own Qi into others... and bloom them remotely.

  Aduin exhaled.

  “They’ll come again. Stronger. More prepared.”

  He pulled Han Chao’s fan from the mud.

  And fed it to Moyao.

  The roots coiled around it like snakes.

  Devouring.

  [TO BE CONTINUED…]