Verdant Grove (Part 1)

LUO FAN

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"Are we near yet, Gege?" Lan Feng asked, his voice light as he scrambled up the hillside behind me. The trail had narrowed to a strip of dirt barely visible beneath a tangle of roots and uneven stone. Above us, the canopy broke just enough to let the sun beat down on our backs.

I paused for breath, planting my bamboo stick into the ground to steady myself. "I'm not entirely sure," I admitted. "The Verdant Grove only exists in texts written centuries ago. Most of them say it lies atop the hills and mountains west of the eastern coast, where one can see the ocean—but that's hardly precise."

Lan Feng didn't seem bothered by the uncertainty. "We've been searching for that grove for over a week now," he said, his tone light.

I glanced back at him. His black hair was tied neatly, fluttering in the wind, his forehead damp with sweat. But his eyes were bright, his steps unwavering. "Are you getting tired?" I asked.

He grinned. "No, Gege. As long as I'm with you, it doesn't matter where we end up. Even if we're lost forever."

"Even if I make you climb ten more hills like this one?" I teased.

"I'd climb a hundred."

I couldn't help but smile. His boundless energy and unwavering cheerfulness were infectious. Lan Feng had never once complained, no matter how grueling the trek became. It was both admirable and a little concerning, given his still-fragile state.

"And, Gege," he continued, his voice softening, "I know you're looking for a special plant for me. If we don't find it, don't worry too much. I've already recovered, you see. Don't exhaust yourself for my sake."

I glanced at him, his earnest gaze tugging at my heart. He didn't know the truth—that he was far from recovered. There was still so much to do, so many pieces of himself he needed to reclaim.

"We've come too far to give up now," I said. "The Verdant Grove may hold something that can help you. I'm sure of it."

"If you say so, Gege," he replied and followed me with a smile.

As we reached the peak of the hill, the world seemed to stretch out before us. A sprawling meadow bathed in golden light lay below, its grass swaying in the breeze like ripples on a tranquil sea. Wildflowers in shades of violet, yellow, and white dotted the expanse, their subtle fragrance carried to us on the wind.

"Gege… it's beautiful," Lan Feng murmured in awe. "I've never seen a view like this in Hanyue."

We stood in silence for a few moments, letting the wind cool our skin as we took it in. Then I gestured forward. "Let's keep moving."

We descended into the meadow, our boots brushing against tall grasses. Soon the terrain changed—ancient trees rose ahead of us, their roots gnarled and thick, forming natural arches over a shadowed woodland path. Light filtered through the foliage in golden shards, illuminating the motes of dust that danced in the air like fireflies.

As we pressed deeper, the temperature dropped slightly. It wasn't cold—just refreshing, like walking into a secret world untouched by time. Then, at last, the trees parted, and the Verdant Grove revealed itself.

It was like walking into a dream.

The trees here were taller, older, their leaves glimmering faintly with a silvery sheen. Their branches draped with flowering vines in shades I had never seen before—shifting colors like opals catching the light. The ground was carpeted with soft moss, glowing mushrooms, and translucent flowers that pulsed faintly as we stepped past. Clear streams wove through the grove, their waters whispering like voices in a foreign tongue, ancient and wise.

I drew in a breath. The air tasted sweet, laced with energy so rich it made the hairs on my arms rise. "This must be it," I said.

Lan Feng had stopped behind me, his eyes wide. "It feels… sacred," he whispered.

"It's overflowing with spiritual energy," I replied. "This grove is alive. You can feel it, can't you?"

He nodded slowly, almost reverently.

The texts had mentioned that at least one legendary herb would bloom in the Verdant Grove each year, but the herb was known to be elusive. Finding it was said to require not just luck, but also worthiness. The guardians of such herbs were selective and would only fight against those they deemed deserving, otherwise, they'd ignore the person completely or even disappear out of sight.

We searched the grove for what felt like hours, though the sun filtered so dimly through the canopy it was hard to keep track of time. I kept my senses sharp as I combed through clusters of flora—identifying roots, blossoms, and mosses that could be useful for refining tonics later. Though the legendary herb still eluded us, I wasn't leaving empty-handed.

The grove itself was almost too quiet. Its serenity bordered on eerie, the way every leaf seemed to shimmer with life, and yet not a single insect buzzed, not a bird sang. It was as if the grove were watching, waiting to judge us in silence.

Lan Feng stayed close, his enthusiasm dampened into a quiet curiosity. He no longer wandered off to marvel at the glowing mushrooms or whisper to the vines that brushed against him. Instead, he clung to my arm, fingers loosely curled around my sleeve. I pretended not to notice—though the warmth of his touch was comforting, it was also a sign that he was unnerved.

"What kind of guardian are we looking for?" he asked softly, his voice cautious, barely rising above the hush of the wind.

I paused, listening to the gentle murmur of the grove, as if it might reveal something to me. "Something powerful," I replied. "The guardian of a legendary herb is the spirit of the herb itself," I continued. "It manifests to protect its essence. Until that spirit is defeated, the herb remains dormant—no more than an ordinary plant. To awaken its true power, we must subdue the guardian. Only then will the essence return to the herb."

He nodded solemnly, though his gaze continued to dart around as though he expected the guardian to leap out at any moment.

Just as I began to wonder if we were going in circles, we emerged from the grove into a small clearing near the exit. Standing there, as though she had been waiting for us, was a woman. She wore the dark robes of the Nightfall Sect, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders. Her expression was unreadable, but her presence radiated quiet authority.

"You've finally arrived," she said, her voice as calm and steady as the grove itself.

Lan Feng instinctively stepped closer to me, his posture guarded. I felt a flicker of unease as I studied the woman. Her presence here, at the edge of the Verdant Grove, could not be a coincidence.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice firm but polite.

"News said that Sect Leader Ruan has been critically injured," the woman said, her tone cool and mocking. "So I assumed he might come this way to look for an herb to help him recover. Who would have thought someone had been helping him all along? And it's none other than the other fugitive of Silang—the very man that Sect Leader Ruan himself had betrayed."

I couldn't help but inwardly marvel at her deduction. She was smart—perhaps too smart. Verdant Grove wasn't a well-known place, even among seasoned cultivators. For her to anticipate my arrival here showed she was resourceful and likely dangerous.

I glanced at Lan Feng, standing just behind me, his eyes blank and lips slightly parted, as if struggling to comprehend what she was saying.

"Miss," I said evenly, trying to maintain calm, "I have no desire to fight you. We're only here to look for herbs."

"Unfortunately," she said with a smirk, "someone already claimed the legendary herb in this grove earlier today. You're out of luck. You'll have to wait for next year—assuming you live that long." Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and her fingers toyed with the hilt of her weapon.

My heart sank slightly. If she was telling the truth, then our journey here was for nothing.

I kept my gaze fixed on her, carefully gauging her intentions. Her stance was aggressive, sharp like a drawn blade, but her aura told me she was only a Level Five cultivator. Not insurmountable, but still not to be underestimated. Confidence, after all, could mean one of two things: skill or recklessness. I wasn't sure which she was hiding.

"And who might you be?" I asked, my voice calm but edged with steel.

"You may call me Mo Li," she replied with dramatic flair, her fingers brushing the twin daggers at her belt. "You deserve to know the name of the one who'll kill you."

I sighed inwardly. Of course. She wasn't going to let us leave peacefully. I hated unnecessary violence, especially against someone with a face as lovely as hers, but I wasn't about to risk Lan Feng's safety.

I stepped forward and drew my bamboo stick. I didn't look back as I spoke over my shoulder. "Stand back, Feng'er. Don't interfere."

Mo Li moved first. A blur of shadow and speed, she closed the distance in a heartbeat. Her twin daggers gleamed under the filtered sunlight, slashing toward me with practiced grace. I blocked her strikes with the bamboo stick, redirecting the blows with minimal force. She was fast, but her strikes were made to intimidate, not kill.

She pressed harder, her offense relentless. But I met every blow with smooth deflections, my movements steady and fluid, conserving energy. Her form was competent, but I could tell she wasn't used to meeting resistance. Her rhythm faltered the longer our exchange continued.

"Is this all you've got?" she snapped, lunging with a spinning strike aimed at my throat.

I stepped aside and hooked my staff low, sweeping her legs out from beneath her. She hit the ground hard, but rolled to her feet quickly, her eyes now blazing with real frustration. Her breath came heavier, her motions growing reckless—desperation bleeding into her precision.

I waited. Then I struck—one swift, controlled blow to her wrist. Her dagger dropped with a clatter. Before she could recover, I pressed the tip of my bamboo staff against her throat.

She froze, kneeling in the dirt, eyes locked onto the staff. Her chest heaved with exertion.

"Enough," I said, lowering the weapon. "You've lost."

She stayed kneeling, her shoulders trembling. For a moment I thought she might try to bite me or summon some hidden technique. But instead, her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

"Please… don't kill me."

I hesitated. Every instinct told me not to trust her. But killing a defenseless opponent, especially one who had already yielded, went against everything I believed in. Yet letting her live risked everything. If she returned to her sect and reported what she'd seen—Lan Feng's identity, my presence here— we would have an army of cultivators hunting us before we could leave the region.

I glanced at Lan Feng, who had edged closer, worry etched into his face. "Gege, what will you do?" he asked softly.

I didn't answer at once. My mind raced. She had to forget. That was the only way.

Reaching into my pouch, I pulled out a silvery green herb I had picked earlier. One of the Grove's minor miracles—a memory-muddling herb. Imperfect, but the best I had.

I crushed the leaf and placed it on her tongue before she could protest. Within seconds, her eyes began to lose focus. Confusion settled over her like a fog. I tied her hands with rope and leaned in close, whispering, "You were never here. Forget what you saw today."

I stood quickly. "Let's go," I told Lan Feng, gripping his hand.

We fled the clearing at a brisk pace, not running but fast enough to leave no room for hesitation. I kept checking over my shoulder, half-expecting to see her chasing after us—but the forest remained still.

Just as we reached the edge of the woods, a scream tore through the grove.

I shoved Lan Feng behind me instinctively and spun around, bamboo stick at the ready. "Stay close," I said.

We rushed toward the source of the scream—but the clearing was empty. Only the frayed, blood-slick rope remained on the forest floor. The woman was gone.

I didn't have time to process it before a low, inhuman growl rumbled from the shadows.