Blossoming Path

Chapter 98: The Weight of History (and Pestles)



Chapter 98: The Weight of History (and Pestles)

"Kai!"

A wave of exotic fragrance washed over me, snapping me out of my reverie. I looked over to see Bai Hua, a vision of flamboyant elegance as usual, but with an added touch of intrigue.

"What happened to your hair?"

Contrary to his usual style of having it half-up and half-down, the perfumer let it flow down his shoulders. His hair shimmered like spun silk, cascading smoothly and catching the light in an almost mesmerizing way.

"Do you like it?" Bai Hua asked with a grin, running a hand through his glossy locks.

"Can I touch it?" I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.

Bai Hua leaned forward, offering a lock of his hair. I reached out, gently running my fingers through it. It was unbelievably soft, like touching a cloud made of the finest threads.

"This feels amazing," I marveled. "What did you do?"

Bai Hua's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "A touch of alchemy, my friend. Bee propolis, also known as Bee's Glue, to be precise. It's from a rare, extinct species I managed to wrangle from the Alchemy Association's vault. But pure propolis has a rather... pungent aroma, wouldn't you say?" he added with a mischievous wink.

"Pungent?" I echoed, wrinkling my nose slightly as I imagined the raw ingredient.

"Precisely," he chuckled. "That's why I added a touch of my own creation – a special blend of floral essences and musk to enhance its conditioning properties and mask the… less desirable aspects of the propolis."

I sighed, shaking my head playfully. "Here we go again with the vanity," I teased, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. Bai Hua did lighten the mood a bit, pushing aside the pre-competition nerves gnawing at me.

But my relief was short-lived. A quick scan of the room confirmed my suspicion – Jingyu Lian was absent. Where could she be?

Bai Hua's laughter filled the air, oblivious to my internal turmoil. "And here we go with the denial about your appearance," he countered, his voice laced with amusement. "Remember that 'special' aroma you sported when we first met? Let's just say it was...unique."

I clutched myself, embarrassed. "Only you could detect that with your freakish sense of smell! And for the record, that was Windy, not me! I assure you, I usually smell perfectly pleasant."

This was going to be an ongoing thing, wasn't it? First it was Ma Xi sniffing me at the Tranquil Breeze Farm, now this! Gardeners, after all, were practically one with nature, right? Why shouldn't I smell like it – a delightful mix of fresh earth and blooming flowers?

Bai Hua smirked, a glint in his mischievous eyes. "Maybe so, maybe not. But a little effort in self-care never hurt anyone, Kai. A touch of perfume, some well-chosen garments – it all contributes to a good first impression."

I rolled my eyes, a familiar back-and-forth we'd developed over time. We continued our banter for a few minutes, the air thick with the playful energy of our sparring. Zhi Ruo sat nearby, engrossed in a book, his studious demeanor a contrast to our lively exchange.

Bai Hua smoothly steered the conversation back to his initial point. "Now, don't get me wrong, the vanity part is true," he admitted with a wink. "But there's a purpose behind the madness. This whole bee propolis thing? It's not just about my glorious locks, you see." A glint of genuine passion ignited in his eyes. "I'm planning to use this to convince my father to invest in bee farms. He has no idea about the potential of bees beyond honey production."

With the way he talked, I sometimes forgot Bai Hua was the heir to a large and famous business, one that made more money in a day than I had in my entire lifetime. But that's what I liked about Bai Hua; he was down to earth, and never treated others lower than him. Why couldn't all young masters be like him?

He pressed another narrow-necked vial to my face, covering up the bottom half of his face with his sleeve.

"Do something about that odor, will you? I can still smell that repugnant snake musk! Do you have it draped over your shoulders when you sleep?"

Well, maybe not exactly like him.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

At that moment, Jingyu Lian entered the room. Her presence demanded attention, everyone's eye turning to see the favorite to win the Gauntlet.

I had always grouped her with the other aristocrat and clan-affiliated contestants, but the longer I observed her, the more I noticed she didn't play nice with them either. When Duan Jian attempted to curry favor with her, she shot it down every single time. Her self-assured presence coupled with her striking looks made her into a one-woman show.

But now, Jingyu Lian looked different. Her body language screamed anxiety and fatigue. Her usually sharp eyes had bags underneath, and her expression was dark and gloomy. She leaned against the wall near the door, closing her eyes as if trying to find a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

"You're staring," Bai Hua teased, nudging me with his elbow. "In most cultures, that's taken as a sign of romantic interest."

I pushed him lightly. "It's not like that. She just looks... different."

"Uh-huh, sure," Bai Hua said with a knowing smirk. "Just remember, if you start composing poetry for her, make sure to send me a copy."

He was lucky that this young master was so magnanimous! A lesser person would've face-slapped him back into the cycle of reincarnation. But I, Kai Liu, will spare this puny perfumer's life. Just this once!

I was about to strike back with a retort when Ma Hualong entered the room, his presence commanding immediate attention. The conversations died down as all eyes turned to him.

He stared at us for a second, one that seemed to last for hours. Then, he spoke. He had that look on his face, much like Feng Wu and Elder Ming when they were about to say something really cool and profound.

"Every ingredient, every technique, every symbol... they all hold a story."

Ma Hualong paused, allowing for the words to sink in.

"This round, you will be presented with a partially translated recipe. It is a relic from a bygone era, and it is your task to create the original product based on what you have."

I bit my lip. Jingyu Lian's father was right, and it only confirmed the fact he truly had an insider within the Gauntlet. Her eyes were closed, and her brows furrowed upon hearing the information. As though she hoped it would be wrong. Many of the contestants seemed nervous at the idea of deciphering a recipe. In a way, wasn't it harder than creating your own? My mind whirled with possible ways they could misdirect the contestants; a single step missed, or one differing ingredient could give you a poison or an antidote. That was how volatile most recipes were.

"The recipe will be made available on your stations," Ma Hualong continued. "And as a reward for their high performance in the previous round, the top three contestants will be given the chance to ask me a question regarding the recipe. However, I can only answer with a yes or no."

My heart raced. Being one of the top three performers meant I had an immense opportunity. A single question, if used wisely, could make the difference between success and failure.

Ma Hualong then concluded, "At the end of this round, the original recipe will be revealed. The five contestants who produce the closest product and recipe will advance to the finals, where the champion of this year's Gauntlet will be decided."

The gravity of his words hung in the air, filling the room with a palpable tension. This was it—the moment we had all been working towards. Despite the burdens I carried, the excitement of seeing my goal so close was electrifying.

The door to the arena opened, and we filed out in a line. I could see Zhi Ruo ahead of me, deep in thought and muttering to himself. His intense concentration was almost intimidating.

As we were led from the lounge to the arena, my thoughts were a whirlwind. The significance of this round, the stakes, and the intricacies of deciphering a recipe from ancient times weighed heavily on my mind. But amidst these thoughts, something else caught my attention. In the middle of the arena, Ma Hualong was introducing an unexpected late addition to the panel of judges.

"The Alchemy Association is pleased to welcome a distinguished alumni member as a judge for this crucial round," Ma Hualong announced, his voice carrying over the hushed crowd. "Master Lei Ren!"

I pumped my fist quietly, realizing my ploy had worked. Lei Ren, Tao Ren's father, would be acting as a judge. Not only to counteract Elder Wei Lian's bias against Jingyu Lian, but also as an impartial party through and through. This was the break I needed. With him, I wouldn't have to worry so much about the clan conflicts among the Jian family!

The arena was a hive of activity. Spectators filled the stands, their murmurs and whispers creating a low hum that underscored the tension in the air. The ten remaining contestants took their places at their respective stations, each one equipped with the tools and ingredients we would need.

The stations were arranged in a circle, each facing inward. The only items on the stations at the moment were a brush and paper, waiting for us to begin. Ma Hualong continued his explanation as envelopes were distributed to each contestant.

"You are not to open the envelopes until I say so," he instructed. "You will be given thirty minutes to analyze the recipe inside and create a list of ingredients and tools you require. Once your lists are approved, you will have one hour to create the product. Remember, the top three performers from the previous round can ask me one question each, which I will answer with a simple yes or no."

I glanced at the envelope on my station, the weight of its contents almost palpable. This was an immense opportunity, and I needed to make the most of it.

"Do any of you have questions?" Ma Hualong asked, his gaze sweeping over us. Silence filled the arena, the tension almost suffocating.

Before we began, I took a longer glance at Jingyu Lian. Her body language was tense, her eyes dark and sunken. She gazed at the envelope with an expression that spoke volumes. She seemed to know what was inside, or perhaps feared it.

I couldn't help but wonder about the insider her father mentioned. How had they managed to ensure she had the answers without being detected? The number of perceptive cultivators and alchemists present made it seem impossible.

He swept a hand over the stations where envelopes awaited. "Inside, you'll find a fragmented recipe, a relic from a dark time. Centuries ago, demonic cultivators unleashed a plague carried by violet rain. The Amethyst Plague, they called it. By targeting the meridians, it turned skin a sickly purple, brought high fevers, hemorrhaging, dysentery, and inevitably, an agonizing death. No one was spared, cultivator or commoner alike."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. It was horrifying to hear, and Ma Hualong's delivery was on point. He must've been a storyteller, or some sort of government official in a past life. Considering how articulate he is, no wonder they have him as the main announcer and coordinator. He had the entire crowd hanging on his every word.

"The greatest alchemists of that era joined forces," The man continued, his voice filled with respect. "They toiled day and night to create a remedy, a way to counteract the rain's poison. This recipe you hold? It's a piece of that legacy. A testament to what alchemy can achieve in the face of despair. The basis of most antidotes were formed by this recipe."

"It saved lives. Lives that would shape the future of alchemy itself. Among them," Ma Hualong's voice rose, carrying through the arena, "a young boy named Zhang Wei. The very same Zhang Wei who, years later, would go on to found the Alchemy Association we all revere today." He gestured to the waiting envelopes. "This round is about more than just creating a product. It's about honoring the past, about understanding the very foundation of our art. Analyze the recipe, create your ingredient list, and remember – the weight of history rests on your mortar and pestle."

A reverent hush fell over the crowd. Lei Ren seemed to nod in approval at his speech, like a particularly proud father. Now that I think of it, didn't he mention that Ma Hualong was his student, once upon a time? How old was Tao Ren's father?

Ma Hualong's voice cut through my thoughts. "You may now open your envelopes."

This was it – the challenge that would determine my place in the finals.


Tip: You can use left, right, A and D keyboard keys to browse between chapters.