Li Mei
The village of Serinor was a tapestry woven with the threads of tranquility and tradition, nestled within a verdant valley cradled by the Azure Dragon Mountains.
The air, crisp and clean, carried the scent of pine from the surrounding forests and the sweet fragrance of wildflowers that bloomed in abundance.
The houses, built from smooth river stones and sturdy timber, were adorned with colorful prayer flags that fluttered in the breeze, their mantras whispering blessings upon the village.
Here, cultivators were not an unusual sight, their presence adding a subtle undercurrent of power to the otherwise peaceful rhythm of village life.
Li Mei, a young woman of seventeen summers, was as much a part of this idyllic landscape as the mountains themselves.
Though a cultivator at the initial stages of Qi Refining, her progress was unremarkable. She was far from a prodigy, her qi a mere flicker compared to the seasoned cultivators in the village.
Yet, she possessed a different kind of allure. Her beauty was not of the flamboyant sort, but a subtle, captivating charm that grew on you like the slow unfolding of a lotus blossom.
Her hair, the color of a raven's wing, cascaded down her back, framing a face of delicate features.
Her skin, the hue of warm honey, seemed to glow with an inner light. But it was her eyes that truly held one captive.
They were the color of jade, deep pools that reflected the verdant landscape around her, hinting at a depth yet to be explored.
While other young women in Serinor, including fellow cultivators, spent their days gossiping by the well or embroidering intricate patterns onto silk, Li Mei found solace in the solitude of her family's medicinal herb garden.
It was a sanctuary of vibrant life, a symphony of colors and scents. Rows of carefully tended plants stretched out before her: vibrant red ginseng, their roots pulsing with potent energy; delicate purple nightshade, their leaves whispering secrets of healing and harm; and fragrant golden chamomile, their cheerful blooms radiating a soothing aura.
Li Mei moved through the garden with a natural grace, her fingers dancing over the plants. She knew each one intimately, their properties, their needs, their hidden potential. Under her touch, the plants seemed to respond, their growth accelerating, their leaves unfurling with renewed vigor.
It was as if she possessed a secret language, a silent communion with the green heart of the earth. Though unaware of the reason, this was a subtle manifestation of something unique within her, something beyond ordinary cultivation.
The villagers simply attributed her green thumb to dedication and a natural affinity for plants.
Her father, Lao Jin, a seasoned cultivator himself, focused on teaching her the basics of their craft, emphasizing the gentler arts of healing and herbalism.
He hoped she would find a peaceful path, perhaps becoming a renowned healer, a respected figure in the village.
He encouraged her cultivation, unaware that her path would diverge dramatically from anything he could imagine.
He never told her she was adopted, and she had no reason to suspect otherwise. Her earliest memories were of this valley, of her father's gentle guidance, of the warmth and love that filled their simple home.
One day, a traveling merchant, his weathered face etched with the stories of a thousand journeys, arrived in Serinor.
His donkey-drawn cart was laden with exotic goods from distant lands: shimmering silks from the Eastern Kingdoms, intricately carved jade ornaments from the Southern Isles, and spices whose aromas filled the air.
Among his wares, something caught Li Mei's eye. A seemingly simple trinket, yet it pulsed with a strange energy that resonated deep within her.
It was tied with a simple cord, yet it emanated a faint warmth, a subtle vibration that seemed to call to her.
Intrigued, Li Mei purchased the pouch. Inside, nestled on a bed of dried moss, were a handful of seeds unlike any she had ever seen.
They were small, smooth, and shimmered with an array of colors – crimson, gold, azure, and emerald. They pulsed with a faint, inner light, like tiny, sleeping stars.
That night, Li Mei's sleep was troubled by a vivid dream. She saw herself standing in a field of blooming flowers, each one a different color, each one radiating a unique energy.
As she reached out to touch them, the flowers transformed, their petals morphing into intricate marks that settled on the skin of people she didn't recognize, yet felt intimately connected to.
She woke with a start, her heart pounding, the dream lingering in her mind like a wisp of smoke. She didn't understand its meaning, but she felt a strange sense of anticipation, a feeling that something significant was about to happen.
The next day, news arrived that sent a chill through the village. Whispers of the Blood Moon Sect, a name that evoked fear and revulsion, began to circulate.
This demonic sect, steeped in forbidden arts, was said to be growing in strength, their influence spreading like a stain across the land.
They sought rare artifacts, powerful cultivators, human sacrifices, anything that could enhance their dark arts.
They were known for their ruthlessness, their willingness to sacrifice anything – and anyone – to achieve their goals.
One fateful evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, ominous shadows across Serinor, the Blood Moon's attack began.
It was not a subtle infiltration, but a brutal, overwhelming assault. Demonic cultivators, their faces hidden behind grotesque masks, descended upon the village.
The once peaceful air was shattered by the screams of the villagers, the clash of steel, the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. Homes were set ablaze, their warm glow replaced by the terrifying light of the inferno.
The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the metallic tang of blood.
Li Mei, her senses heightened for reasons she couldn't explain, felt the surge of dark energy just before the attack began.
A cold dread washed over her. She ran to her father, her heart pounding, her voice trembling as she tried to warn him.
But it was too late. The demonic cultivators were already upon them. Her father, a skilled cultivator who had long since abandoned the more aggressive aspects of his training, fought with a ferocity born of desperation.
He moved with surprising speed and power, his staff a blur of motion as he parried blows, his eyes blazing with determination.
He was far stronger than Li Mei, but even he was no match for multiple opponents, especially ones empowered by demonic energy.
Li Mei watched in horror as her father battled the attackers. She saw the moment a dark blade, pulsing with malevolent energy, pierced his defenses.
A crimson stain blossomed across his chest. He stumbled, his eyes widening in shock, then fell to his knees.
Her mother, her face a mask of terror, shoved Li Mei towards a hidden passage behind their home.
"Run, Mei'er!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with fear.
"Run and don't look back! Survive!"
Those were the last words Li Mei ever heard her mother say.
As she scrambled into the darkness of the passage, she heard the sickening sound of a blade piercing flesh, followed by a chilling silence.
Forced to flee her burning village, Li Mei found herself alone and vulnerable in a world that suddenly seemed far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.
She clutched the small pouch of seeds, her only possession of value, the only link to the inexplicable events that were beginning to unfold around her.
The seeds, nestled within the pouch, pulsed with a faint warmth against her palm, a silent, steady rhythm that echoed the frantic beat of her heart.
They were a mystery, a burden, and perhaps, a key to a destiny she was only beginning to glimpse.
The days following Li Mei's flight from Serinor were a harsh baptism into a world stripped of its innocence.
Every rustle of leaves in the dense forests, every snap of a twig under her worn boots, sent a jolt of adrenaline through her, her senses hyper-alert for any sign of pursuit.
She pushed herself relentlessly, driven by a potent cocktail of grief, fear, and a burgeoning ember of vengeance.
She traversed rocky terrain, forded rushing rivers, and navigated dense forests, her body aching, her lungs burning. She foraged for food, her knowledge of edible plants, once a source of quiet pride, now a vital necessity for survival.