CHAPTER 57

Dual Bloom

We climbed two rugged mountains, the path twisting and treacherous, before finally reaching the eerie expanse of the Misty Forest.

A thick, dark mist clung to the air, impenetrable and unrelenting, as though it had a life of its own. Locals had named it “Misty Forest” because the shroud of mist never lifted, no matter the season. The forest was infamous not only for its impenetrable gloom but also for the treasures hidden within—chief among them, the legendary Dual Bloom.

“This is where the Dual Bloom grows?” I asked, squinting into the fog. I could barely see my own hands, let alone anything further than a few steps ahead.

Ruan Yanjun led the way, his strides confident and unfaltering. The mist seemed to part subtly around him, though not enough to give me much visibility. “How can we find anything in this?” I muttered, sticking close behind him.

Ruan Yanjun glanced back at me, his sharp eyes glinting with a faint light. “Stop complaining and stay close. You wouldn’t last five minutes here on your own.”

I bit back a retort, knowing he was probably right. While I stumbled over roots and ducked under low branches, Ruan Yanjun moved with an almost predatory grace. His eyes, sharp and calculating, seemed unbothered by the oppressive mist, as though he could see through its veil.

We ventured deeper until the air around us grew heavier, charged with an unnatural energy. Suddenly, the mist thickened, swirling like a vortex, and from its depths emerged a creature unlike anything I had ever seen.

The guardian of the forest stood before us, a faery-like being with a striking, otherworldly appearance. Its upper half was humanlike but ethereal, with iridescent skin that shimmered in hues of green and gold. Petal-like appendages bloomed around its shoulders, resembling a collar of radiant flowers. Its lower body seemed to merge seamlessly with a massive lotus stem, its translucent tendrils rooting into the ground.

Its voice was a melody of whispers, carrying both beauty and menace.

Ruan Yanjun halted, his expression hardening. The guardian was a formidable opponent, radiating a powerful aura that seemed to ripple through the air.

I froze as he turned to look at me, his gaze assessing. My heart sank.

Is he going to make me fight this creature?

But then he sighed and shook his head. “You wouldn’t last a heartbeat against this one.”

Relief washed over me, but it was quickly replaced by apprehension as Ruan Yanjun stepped forward.

“Stay back,” he said, his tone firm. “Watch carefully, A-Fan. You might learn something.”

The guardian attacked first, its tendrils lashing out like whips of light, slicing through the air with terrifying speed. Ruan Yanjun dodged effortlessly, his movements a blur of precision and power. His bare hands were his weapons, and he used them to deflect and counter the guardian’s relentless strikes.

With a swift motion, Ruan Yanjun extended his hand, and beams of concentrated energy shot from his fingertips, tearing through the tendrils with deadly accuracy. The guardian recoiled but quickly retaliated, sending a wave of glowing petals toward him. Each petal was razor-sharp, slicing through the mist with a haunting hum.

Ruan Yanjun raised his palm, gathering a swirling orb of energy that pulsed with an almost sentient intensity. With a decisive thrust, he released the orb, and it exploded mid-air, disintegrating the petals in a brilliant flash of light.

The ground trembled under the force of their clash, and I could feel the residual energy prickling against my skin. Despite the mist obscuring much of the battle, the flashes of energy and the sheer force of their movements left me in awe. I had seen Ruan Yanjun’s cruelty and arrogance countless times, but watching him fight was something else entirely—a breathtaking display of strength and skill that seemed almost otherworldly.

The guardian began to falter, its movements growing sluggish. Its glow dimmed as Ruan Yanjun advanced, his energy coiling around him like a living thing.

He turned to me briefly, his expression unreadable. “A-Fan, pay attention. I’m about to show you a technique you’ll need to master one day. It’s called the Climactic Finish.”

The name made my face heat, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it as Ruan Yanjun leaped into the air, his figure cutting through the mist like a shooting star. The guardian, now weakened, was hurled upward by an unseen force. As it fell, Ruan Yanjun met it mid-air, his palm glowing with a searing light.

With a thunderous roar, he unleashed a massive wave of energy, engulfing the guardian in a radiant explosion. The blast sent ripples through the mist, clearing it momentarily and revealing the sheer devastation left in its wake.

He landed gracefully, his movements as light as a feather. For a moment, I could only stare, my mouth slightly agape. The mist slowly began to return, but the image of him standing there, calm and unscathed, was seared into my mind.

When he turned to me and smirked, I quickly averted my gaze, my face burning.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Climactic Finish?” I muttered under my breath, trying to compose myself. “Lord Ruan, does everything you name have to sound like it belongs in a bedroom?”

His chuckle was low and infuriating. “Perhaps. But it’s effective, isn’t it?”

The guardian’s broken form shimmered, dissolving into wisps of spiritual essence. The mist parted again, and the glowing trails of energy began to drift in a single direction, as though guiding us.

“The Dual Bloom lies ahead,” he said, his tone casual, as though the intense battle he’d just fought was nothing more than a warm-up.

I followed silently, still trying to shake the awe I felt from watching him. Every time I thought I understood Ruan Yanjun, he managed to shatter my expectations in ways I didn’t know were possible.

As we pressed forward, the trail of spiritual essence led us deeper into the forest, its glowing threads guiding us like a celestial map. Just as we reached a clearing where the Dual Bloom stood in radiant splendor, a shadow darted past us, swift and silent as a wraith.

Ruan Yanjun’s eyes narrowed. “So, a rat’s been tailing us,” he muttered, his tone dangerously calm.

Before I could respond, he was already moving, a streak of motion as he chased after the thief. My instincts screamed at me to follow, and I hurried behind him, my legs burning with the effort to keep up. The shadow was fast, but Ruan Yanjun was faster, and it wasn’t long before we cornered the intruder.

The scene I stumbled upon sent a wave of unease through me.

Ruan Yanjun stood tall, his presence dominating, while the intruder knelt before him. The thief was an aging man, his body hunched and frail, his hair streaked with gray. Despite his age, desperation burned fiercely in his tear-filled eyes.

“Please,” the man begged, his voice hoarse and trembling. “The Dual Bloom—it’s for my wife. She’s dying. I’ve searched for years... Please, have mercy.”

In Ruan Yanjun’s hand, the Dual Bloom gleamed—a delicate, otherworldly flower with petals of white and crimson that shimmered faintly in the fading mist. He looked down at the man coldly, unmoved by his plea.

“Mercy?” Ruan Yanjun’s voice was sharp, cutting through the old man’s sobs. “You think mercy grows on trees like this flower? I should kill you where you kneel for daring to steal from me.”

“Lord Ruan,” I interjected, my heart twisting at the sight of the man’s anguish. “His wife is dying. Maybe we should give it to him. We can find another way.”

“Nonsense,” Ruan Yanjun snapped, his gaze flicking to me briefly before returning to the man. “There’s nothing left for you here. Leave.”

The old man hesitated, his hands trembling as he clasped them together in a final, silent plea. Then, seeming to resign himself, he rose unsteadily to his feet and began to shuffle away.

But the man wasn’t done. In a sudden burst of speed that belied his frail appearance, he lunged at Ruan Yanjun, his hands outstretched to snatch the flower.

It was a mistake.

Ruan Yanjun moved faster than I could follow, his free hand raised as a blast of pure energy erupted from his palm. The old man was thrown backward, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.

“Lord Ruan!” I shouted, rushing forward as he raised his hand again, another surge of energy gathering at his fingertips. “Stop!”

My intervention was enough to make him pause. The old man, clutching his chest, used the moment to stagger to his feet and stumble into the mist, disappearing from view.

I turned to Ruan Yanjun, my chest heaving. “He’s just an old man, desperate to save his wife. Let him go.”

Ruan Yanjun’s eyes gleamed with cold amusement. “And you actually believe that freak?”

“That man’s wife needs the herb more than I do,” I said firmly, though the words felt like lead in my throat.

He stepped closer, his gaze piercing as he studied me. “A-Fan, that man is lying. He’s mad, desperate for something that doesn’t exist.”

“As far as I can tell, his sanity is still intact,” I replied, my voice quiet but resolute.

His smirk faded, replaced by a calculating expression. “Fine. Let’s assume he’s sane and telling the truth. Answer me this. Between you and that man’s wife, who do you think should I save?”

I faltered, the question cutting through my resolve. My conscience screamed one answer, but my heart whispered another.

Finally, I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. “Lord Ruan, the flower can only give me a few more months. For the man’s wife, it could mean years. It’s more practical to let him have it.”

His expression darkened. “Practical?” His tone was sharp, almost mocking. “Practicality is saving the person who matters to me. That woman is nothing. You are everything. I didn’t endure this cursed forest and that guardian for someone else’s sake. My A-Fan’s life is the only life that concerns me.”

He turned abruptly, the Dual Bloom still in his grasp. “Now, stop wasting time. Let’s go.”

I stared at his back, my heart a storm of conflicting emotions. Part of me wanted to argue, to insist on doing the right thing. But another part—the part that wanted to live, no matter the cost—kept me silent.

As I followed him down a pathway, he faltered without warning, his steps wavering as he suddenly leaned to one side. I reacted instinctively, reaching out to catch him before he could fall. His weight bore down on me as I steadied him, his body uncharacteristically slack.

He felt cold.

I glanced at him, alarmed by his pallor. His face, usually full of an irritating, infallible vitality, was drained of color. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his skin, and his breaths were shallow and uneven.

“Lord Ruan, what’s wrong?” I asked, my tone calm, though my mind raced with questions.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, his voice strained as he pushed against me, trying to stand on his own.

I didn’t reply, but I didn’t release him either. Something was clearly wrong. Ruan Yanjun was not someone who could be so easily shaken.

When he finally managed to straighten himself, he brushed my hands away, as if his dignity couldn’t bear the weight of my support. His movements were deliberate but lacked their usual precision, like a master swordsman pretending his hand hadn’t slipped.

“Overexertion,” he said, almost dismissively. “The fight with the guardian was more demanding than I anticipated.”

I didn’t respond, my eyes narrowing slightly as I studied him. The excuse was plausible, but his expression betrayed a deeper truth. His usual self-assurance was there, but something flickered behind it—something like pain.

He took a step forward, unsteady but determined, and I followed silently.

“Don’t hover,” he said curtly, his back to me.

I didn’t answer. My presence wasn’t hovering. It was just there, as always.

His movements grew steadier after a few moments, but I kept my eyes on him, watching for any further signs of weakness. My thoughts churned quietly. If he was truly unwell, why wouldn’t he say so? He was arrogant, yes, but not reckless. He wouldn’t jeopardize himself unless…

Unless he believed he couldn’t afford to show weakness.

I pushed the thought aside for now. If he wanted to pretend he was fine, I would let him—for now. But I would watch.

As we continued deeper into the forest, I glanced at his profile. His jaw was tight, his gaze focused ahead, as though willing his body to obey him through sheer force of will.

“Lord Ruan,” I said quietly, finally breaking the silence.

He turned his head slightly, acknowledging me without looking back.

“Don’t push yourself too far,” I said simply.

His lips curled faintly, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Since when did you care so much, A-Fan?”

I didn’t answer, letting the silence speak for me.

We moved on. I kept my distance, but my gaze lingered on him, each step I took shadowing his unspoken struggle. His secrets didn’t need to be spoken for me to understand their weight.