Naughty petals

Temple of Blossoms

The Silent Soul of Qasiong

After three long days of arduous travel, they finally arrived at the entrance of a radiant white cave. The stone structure was no less magnificent than a royal palace...so divine, it seemed as though a deity had carved it as a dwelling for themselves.

The group stepped inside.

With every step forward, the cave drew them deeper, as if gently swallowing them into its ancient silence. Then, at the very end, stood a great white door...immaculate and untouched...fragranced with the sweet scent of jasmine. Yet curiously, no flowers were in sight.

The door creaked open.

What lay beyond could only be described as a vision of the divine.

Thousands of white flower petals floated mid-air, carried by ancient spiritual magic. In the center of the space, suspended like a bird frozen in time, hovered the sacred Qasiong Scroll....unchanging, eternal.

Below it stood the ethereal shape of a woman, sculpted entirely from delicate white blossoms. Legends said this was the soul of Qasiong herself.

Mo Yan knelt without hesitation, bowing his head deeply in reverence. Behind him, his disciples followed in quiet awe, lowering themselves to the ground.

The petals danced gently in the air, brushing their cheeks like whispers from heaven, playing with strands of hair as if caressing children long lost to time.

One playful petal wriggled its way into Su Nian's nose, tickling him mischievously. It wouldn't stop. Like a cheeky spirit disguised as a rabbit, the petals seemed to have chosen Su Nian as their favorite target. The more he tried to swat them away, the more they teased him.

And yet....Mo Yan remained utterly calm.

Raising his hand slowly, he manifested five unopened peach blossoms and placed them reverently at the foot of the flowery figure.

The petals, now even more energetic, swirled around each disciple with wild joy, pulling at their robes, their hair, their patience. The disciples struggled to maintain composure as giggles and sneezes betrayed their self-control.

The divine temple had come alive.

And still...Mo Yan remained unmoved. Calm as still water. Serene as a silent moon.

One by one, the peach blossoms slowly began to bloom.

The white door behind them closed on its own, sealing the sacred space.

Mo Yan sank into a meditative pose before the figure of Qasiong.

Behind him, chaos bloomed like spring.

The petals weren't merely flowers...they were guardians. Testing. Observing. Measuring the discipline and patience of those present.

And in the center of it all…

Mo Yan did not move.

He had come not just to worship....but to prove he was worthy.