After a restless night spent replaying the events at the Combat Hall and his failed attempts at meditation, Tao decided it was time to act. His credits were running low, and the Moonlit Fern seedlings would take weeks, if not months, to mature. If he wanted to climb out of mediocrity and gain the resources he needed, he had to look beyond the Herb Pavilion.
For the most part, Tao had been excused from missions, given his assignment in the herb garden. The work was monotonous but safe, earning him enough credits to scrape by. Yet today, Tao found himself before the sect mission board, the need for additional sect points pressing on his mind.
The board was a constant source of activity, drawing disciples from all corners of the Verdant Dawn Sect. Tao stood at the edge of the crowd, his eyes scanning the jade plaques for something he could handle. The buzz of conversation and the occasional hum of spiritual energy filled the courtyard.
“Move it!” barked an older disciple as he shoved past Tao. The man plucked a jade plaque off the board and stalked away, muttering about rogue beasts. Tao stepped back, his heart pounding as he resumed his search.
The board itself was an imposing structure, made of dark spiritual wood that absorbed the Qi in the air, ensuring the mission plaques remained pristine. Each plaque radiated faint spiritual energy, categorised by difficulty and reward. Tao’s eyes roamed over the board, quickly skipping over the higher ranked missions marked with bright red talismans.
Most missions were far beyond his abilities. Beast hunts, caravan escorts, artifact retrievals—all required higher cultivation or specialized skills. But then he saw it:
“Herbal Delivery to Emerald Hollow City. Reward: 200 sect credits. Suitable for First Level Qi Condensation.”
The task wasn’t glamorous, but it was practical. Tao hesitated only a moment before grabbing the plaque and approaching the mission attendant.
The attendant, a broad shouldered man with a perpetual scowl, glanced at Tao’s token and stamped it without comment. He handed Tao a satchel filled with dried herbs.
“Deliver this to the Mystic Cloud Apothecary in Emerald Hollow City,” the attendant instructed. “And don’t get distracted.”
Tao nodded, gripping the satchel tightly.
Emerald Hollow City
The path to Emerald Hollow City wound through rolling hills covered in lush greenery. The forest canopy above swayed gently in the breeze, casting shifting shadows across the ground. Birds called faintly in the distance, their melodies punctuating the crunch of gravel under Tao’s boots. His satchel bounced lightly against his hip with each step, a constant reminder of the task at hand.
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By midday, the city came into view, nestled snugly in a valley. Emerald Hollow City’s high walls, painted a deep green to blend with the surrounding forest, gave it a natural, almost unassuming appearance. Yet the activity outside its gates told a different story. Merchants with carts laden with goods jostled for position, while guards in polished armour directed the flow of traffic. Tall wooden gates reinforced with steel stood open, manned by sharp eyed guards who inspected everyone entering.
The city was a hub of trade and cultivation, its economy divided between mortals and cultivators. Mortals traded with gold and silver, their currency clinking in the hands of merchants as deals were struck over grain, textiles, and simple tools. For cultivators, however, spirit stones reigned supreme. These small, translucent stones glimmered faintly with spiritual energy and served as both currency and a resource for cultivation.
Tao reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the small pouch he carried. Inside were twelve low grade spirit stones, the result of years of saving. They were a meagre sum by cultivator standards, barely enough to purchase even the simplest artifact or pill, but to Tao, they represented hope. He had spent years resisting the temptation to use them, knowing they might one day be the key to his advancement.
The line to enter the city moved slowly, giving Tao time to take in the sights. Spirit beasts of all sizes waited with their riders, their eyes glinting with intelligence. Above, cultivators flew through the air on gleaming swords or rode on floating chariots, their robes billowing like banners in the wind. Tao craned his neck, his eyes following a group of disciples descending from a massive spirit bird.
The disciples wore the unmistakable black and red robes of the Ironwood Tower Sect, their polished armour catching the sunlight as they landed with practiced ease. Tao’s heart clenched with envy. The Ironwood disciples exuded confidence and power, drawing the attention of mortals and cultivators alike. Tao himself wore the green and blue robes of his sect.
One day, Tao thought, clenching his fists. One day, I’ll soar like that.
When Tao finally passed through the gates, the city enveloped him in its noise and energy. The streets were a labyrinth of cobblestone alleys and bustling markets, lined with vendors shouting over one another to hawk their wares. Stalls overflowed with goods: bundles of spirit herbs tied neatly with twine, glittering gemstones displayed in velvet lined trays, and steaming trays of roasted meats and spiced breads.
The scents of incense, fresh produce, and roasted nuts mingled with the occasional sharp tang of spiritual energy, as cultivators demonstrated techniques to potential buyers. One merchant swung a glowing sword, the arc of light leaving scorch marks on the cobblestones, while another activated a talisman that sent sparks crackling through the air.
Tao kept his head low, weaving through the chaos with practiced ease. He had grown up in this city, after all, the son of a modest herb shopkeeper. The familiar sights tugged at his heart—a fruit vendor still shouting the same deals, the baker’s stall where he used to beg for scraps. Nostalgia mingled with frustration.
This place hadn’t changed, but Tao had.
His father’s humble store had dealt only in mundane herbs, barely earning enough to support their family. It was a far cry from the wealth displayed in the cultivator markets, where even a single stalk of Spirit Lotus Grass could fetch more than his father made in a month.
Tao forced the memories aside. He had a mission to complete, and dwelling on the past wouldn’t help him now.