16 The Panda’s Revelation
Sora, the usually docile panda whose primary occupations revolved around napping and bamboo consumption, had suddenly become a furry, black-and-white wrecking ball.
The sturdy fence around Mia's precious herb garden, which moments before had seemed perfectly adequate, now resembled a pile of kindling.
A whimpering sound emanated from beneath Sora's considerable backside – the unfortunate, pancake-flattened form of a spy from the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion.
Clearly, Sora hadn't appreciated the paparazzi treatment.
The air crackled with tension, thicker than Phoebe's strongest tranquilizer concoction.
Lucas, ever the opportunist, seized the moment with the grace of a vulture swooping in on a three-day-old carcass.
"A clear case of a rogue spirit beast!" he proclaimed, his voice dripping with faux concern.
"For the safety of the sect, the panda must be confiscated." His eyes, however, gleamed with a predatory hunger that had nothing to do with public safety and everything to do with acquiring… something.
Ethan, bless his cotton socks, wasn't buying it.
He knew Lucas's "concern" was about as genuine as a three-dollar bill.
With the reckless abandon of a squirrel on six espressos, Ethan activated his Drunken Immortal Steps, a technique that made him look less like a martial arts master and more like a toddler navigating a bouncy castle.
His goal: lure Sora away from the increasingly nervous Mia.
Unfortunately, channeling the erratic energy of a drunken celestial being proved a bit too much.
Ethan's meridians overloaded, and he ended up face-first in a particularly pungent mud pit, resembling a rejected swamp monster extra from a low-budget fantasy film.
Phoebe, the calm eye in the swirling hurricane of panda-induced chaos, glided forward.
From her sleeve, she produced a vial of shimmering powder – "Soul-Soothing Pollen," she explained, sprinkling it liberally over the agitated Sora.
The panda's furious snorts subsided into rumbling grumbles.
As she brushed past Ethan, still half-submerged in the mud, she murmured, low enough only he could hear: "The core division is almost complete.
"
Ethan, momentarily forgetting his muddy predicament, shot her a questioning glance.
What core?
Mia's?
Was she some sort of mystical Matryoshka doll?
He filed it away under "things to ponder later when not coated in swamp goo."
Meanwhile, Lina, never one to miss an opportunity for some high-stakes drama, had produced a curious looking hand mirror.
Aiming it at Mia, she muttered something about "revealing true forms.
" The mirror's surface rippled, and an image shimmered into view - Mia, but not the Mia everyone knew.
This Mia was radiant, powerful, radiating an otherworldly energy.
It was a vision of her past self, the legendary medicinal spirit who had quelled the Heavenly Secrets Pavilion's rebellion a century ago.
The cat, or rather, the ancient medicinal spirit, was officially out of the bag.
Suddenly, a figure lunged from the shadows – a puppet, eerily lifelike, controlled by Lucas's insidious strings of power.
Its target: Lina and her revealing mirror.
Ethan, still caked in mud but ever the valiant (if slightly clumsy) hero, reacted instinctively.
He summoned his ultimate defensive technique - The Great Wall of Tofu.
A shimmering, gelatinous wall of bean curd materialized between Lina and the attacking puppet.
The collision was… unexpected.
Instead of shattering, the tofu absorbed the energy of both attacks.
It pulsed, vibrated, and then… began to morph.
The smooth, white surface sprouted knobs, dials, and flashing lights.
Speakers emerged, blasting out a deafening rock anthem that sounded suspiciously like a panda mating call remixed with heavy metal.
The tofu, it seemed, had evolved into a…rock concert?
The sonic assault was too much.
The very foundations of the hall trembled.
Dust rained down as massive support beams groaned and cracked.
The air thrummed with power, a strange cocktail of ancient magic, rogue pandas, and surprisingly aggressive tofu.
Amid the chaos, Lucas's voice cut through the din, a chilling whisper directed at Lina: "You really thought you could…"
"...hide *that* from me?" Lucas finished, his voice a venomous hiss that somehow sliced through the cacophony of the tofu-powered rock concert.
His eyes, usually veiled with a veneer of politeness, now blazed with raw, unadulterated ambition.
The puppet, momentarily stunned by its collision with the amplified bean curd, reoriented itself, its wooden joints creaking ominously.
Lina, however, was not one to be intimidated.
She smirked, a flash of defiance in her eyes.
"Darling Lucas," she purred, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "you wound me. I merely thought a little… *illumination* was in order. After all, transparency is key in these delicate situations, wouldn't you agree?" She gestured with a flourish towards the still-radiant image in the mirror, the spectral Mia shimmering like a heat haze.
Ethan, finally extracting himself from the mud pit (with a squelch that could only be described as "unfortunate"), watched the exchange with a mixture of bewilderment and growing alarm.
He was starting to suspect that "delicate situations" in the cultivation world were about as delicate as a rhinoceros in a china shop.
He wiped a glob of mud from his eye, narrowly avoiding poking himself.
"So," he interjected, his voice slightly muffled by residual swamp goo, "anyone want to explain why our resident, uh, *quiet* herbalist is apparently a glowing super-being?"
Phoebe, ever the pragmatist, ignored Ethan's question (and his mud-caked appearance).
She was focused entirely on Sora, who, though calmed by the Soul-Soothing Pollen, was now exhibiting a peculiar new behavior.
The panda was… humming.
Not just any hum, but a deep, resonant vibration that seemed to sync perfectly with the bizarre rock anthem emanating from the Great Wall of Tofu.
As Sora hummed, the image in Lina's mirror flickered, the spectral Mia growing even brighter, her form solidifying.
"The resonance," Phoebe breathed, her eyes wide.
"Sora's harmonic frequency is… accelerating the core manifestation."
Lucas's puppet lunged again, faster this time, its wooden fingers outstretched like claws.
Lina, with a flick of her wrist, deflected the attack with a shimmering barrier of her own, the air crackling with the clash of their powers.
"You won't have her, Lucas," she spat.
"The Celestial Bloom is mine."
Celestial Bloom?
Ethan's mind raced.
He'd read about it in one of the (heavily censored) ancient texts the system had translated for him.
A legendary medicinal spirit, capable of granting unimaginable power, immortality… and, if the rumors were true, the ability to brew the perfect cup of tea.
(Ethan was particularly interested in that last part.
)
The tofu wall, as if sensing the escalating tension, cranked up the volume.
The panda mating call/heavy metal remix morphed into a full-blown orchestral explosion, complete with what sounded suspiciously like a theremin solo played by a particularly enthusiastic yak.
The ground vibrated, the walls shook, and a chandelier, weakened by the sonic onslaught, plummeted from the ceiling, narrowly missing Ethan's head.
"Right," Ethan muttered, dodging a falling piece of plaster.
"This has officially gone from 'weird' to 'what-in-the-actual-nine-hells-is-going-on?'." He glanced at Mia, who was still standing silently amidst the chaos, her expression unreadable.
He had a feeling, a very strong feeling, that he was about to find out.
And he had a sneaking suspicion that fermented yak milk might, once again, be involved.
The chapter ends with the image in the mirror fully soild.
A blinding light filled the room, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.
When they could see, they could find Mia gone and a young lady standing where Mia had been, radiating an otherworldly energy that seemed to warp the very fabric of reality.
"It's show time", She giggled.