Blossoming Path-Chapter 188: Courting Death Through Blasphemy

My voice rang out across the clearing, cutting through the thick, stifling air with a confidence I barely felt.

"Oi! Baldy! You still alive in there?" My shout echoed through the trees, bouncing off the jagged rock formations that lined the cavern entrance. I grinned, though sweat slicked the back of my neck.

"That burn must be killing you. What, did you crawl back into your hole to lick your wounds?" I took a step forward, making myself as obvious a target as possible. "Come on, I thought demonic cultivators were supposed to be tough! Or did I misjudge that?"

Jian Feng stood just a step behind me, his sword loose in his grip but his eyes sharp, scanning every shadow in the rock face. He said nothing, his presence a quiet reassurance. He had already explained; we couldn’t afford to fight inside that cave. We needed to lure them out.

And unfortunately, I was the best one for the job.

Even so, there was nothing. No movement. No response.

But I could feel them watching.

The hairs on my arms stood on end. The sensation wasn’t coming from any single direction—it was a weight pressing in from all sides, as if unseen hands were reaching toward me, stopping just short of grasping my neck. My instincts screamed at me, warning me of my impending doom.

I swallowed but kept my stance firm, my fingers curling at my sides. The disciples remained in their positions. Circling the cave so there'd be no way for them to escape. But despite making myself an easy target, nothing ventured out of the cave.

I licked my lips. They were disciplined, even in their madness. But there was something else.

I closed my eyes for half a breath, recalling Tianyi’s account of her battle.

Their worship. Their god. The Heavenly Demon.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled just as slow, shifting my approach.

"Tch. Maybe I was wrong about you lot," I said, my tone dropping into something more contemptuous, more biting. The young master persona I'd been cultivating all this years was finally coming in handy. "Maybe I thought too highly of your kind. I thought you all were supposed to be followers of the Heavenly Demon. But what kind of followers are you?"

I let the words hang, let them seep into the silence.

"I expected something grand. Something terrifying. But all I see are rats scurrying in the dark." I spread my arms wide, gesturing toward the cave. "Tell me, is this what your so-called god had in mind for you? Lurking in the outskirts of a province, hiding in caves like cornered prey? Does the great Heavenly Demon reward his faithful with scraps and filth?"

I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. "Pathetic."

Still no movement. But the weight in the air had changed.

It had sharpened.

The silence wasn’t empty anymore—it was seething.

Despite the sheer intent bearing down on me, I kept going. My mind churned with ways to denigrate the Heavenly Demon. Think! What would Dian Juan say?

Well, he'd probably piss himself and run away in this situation. But that was besides the point.

"If your god was truly divine, you wouldn’t be wasting away in some forgotten cave, skulking in shadows while your betters walk free in the open. No, if your god was real, he would’ve lifted you up. He would’ve granted you something more than just... this. Tell me, where is your god now? Does he hear your prayers? Does he lift you up? Or has he abandoned you like the wretched shits you are?"

The change was immediate.

A sharp intake of breath from within the cave. A rustle of movement, the sound of feet shifting.

Then, a single voice, low and rasping, like something dragging itself from the depths of a pit.

"You dare."

A sound like cracking bone echoed from within the cavern, sharp and unnatural. It wasn’t just the sound of someone moving—it was something deeper, something wrong. A series of pops and snaps, like flesh contorting, like a body rearranging itself in ways it shouldn’t.

Then, a whisper, thin and slicing through the air like a blade to the throat.

"Even a thousand deaths would not suffice for what you have done."

The voice was quiet, almost delicate, but the weight of sheer malice in it made my stomach churn.

... Maybe I'd gone too far.

The bald man. His burnt face was still raw and cracked from where I had seared him, the skin blackened and peeling, revealing the flesh beneath. His lips curled back, revealing teeth stained red. His eyes—deep, sunken pits of ink—locked onto mine with an expression not too dissimilar from an asura.

Demonic qi surged outward as he exploded toward me in a blur of movement, the air distorting around him as if rejecting his presence. He moved too fast—I barely had time to tense, barely had time to react—

Jian Feng stepped in front of me, his sword flashing in an arc—

And then, like a comet plummeting from the sky, Tianyi dropped down with crushing force.

The impact sent a shockwave through the clearing, kicking up dust and debris as the bald man was stomped into the ground, his body slamming into the earth with a sickening crunch. Tianyi’s foot pinned his chest down, her wings fluttering slightly as she adjusted her stance, antennae twitching in focus.

"Stay," she said simply.

Jian Feng wasted no time. His blade lifted, the arc of his sword gleaming as he prepared to behead him—

But the moment the blade descended, another figure shot from the cavern, blurring into motion.

A second demonic cultivator.

Tianyi twisted, leaping away just in time as the figure’s strike cut through empty air. Jian Feng shifted his momentum, twisting mid-swing to block the sudden attack, his blade clashing with the man's claws, sending sparks flying.

Hidden within the snow, his presence suppressed, Windy lunged from below, fangs bared. His body coiled around the second figure in a flash, sinking his teeth into their shoulder before disengaging just as quickly, disappearing back into the cover of the terrain.

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The second figure stumbled, their hand flying to the wound.

Three Verdant Lotus disciples surged forward, just as planned. Their movements were coordinated, blades flashing as they pressed the assault on the injured target.

Six versus two. We were just the first line.

Beyond the trees, the rest of the disciples remained hidden, waiting for the signal. Ready to strike when the time was right.

And as the bald man pushed himself up from the dirt, his head snapping toward me, his body trembled with rage. His blank expression was long gone; replaced with bloodlust aimed directly toward me.

The battle had begun.

The second hooded figure stepped forward. His voice began low and measured, but rose with growing fury.

"If you had just stayed put, you all could have lived a humble life," he said, his tone laced with venom. "At least until the day our great Heavenly Demon is resurrected."

His hands trembled at his sides, fingers curling into claws as his rage simmered just beneath the surface. Even as the disciples stood poised for battle, ready to strike at a moment’s notice, the man showed no fear. There was no tension in his stance, no wariness in his gaze. He did not look at us as an opponent would.

No.

He regarded us the way one would look at troublesome cattle.

His voice trembled with righteous anger. "But you dared! Dared to speak His name in vain! Dared to mock His divine path!" His breathing hitched, and his head tilted back, his hood falling slightly to reveal a gaunt, sallow face, sunken eyes burning with unholy fervor. "Even our bishop would understand what must be done. To repay your sins, we will exterminate your village. Women. Children. Every last one."

The words sent a ripple through the disciples, but I forced myself to remain still. I couldn’t show hesitation. I couldn’t let them see the fear creeping at the edges of my mind.

"And we will start," he hissed, his gaze locking onto mine, "with you."

A deep, sickening sound filled the air as he raised his hands, revealing his palms. Etched into the flesh were grotesque sigils, carved so deeply they looked more like brands. A tremor of wrongness rippled through the clearing as he pressed his palms together in a prayer-like gesture.

The air thickened.

The demonic qi in the area surged violently, as if responding to his call.

"Veins of the weeping earth... hear me!" he chanted, his voice reverberating unnaturally, layering over itself like a chorus of the damned. "We offer this land! Let it consume those unworthy!"

We moved instinctively, ready to disrupt whatever ritual he was casting—but before I could even take a step, the bald man surged forward, intercepting me with a frenzied charge.

Jian Feng’s sword met his attack, sparks flying from the clash of steel and claw, but the hooded man was undeterred. His ritual was complete.

He slammed his palms into the ground.

A pulse of energy rippled outward, and the snow-covered earth beneath us darkened. A wave of decay spread like ink spilling into water, corrupting everything it touched. The ground beneath my feet softened unnaturally, shifting from solid earth into a tar-like sludge.

The effect was immediate.

Half of our group—including myself—was caught, our legs sinking into the shifting ground. I cursed under my breath, struggling to pull free, but it was spreading too fast. Tianyi, being airborne and swift, avoided it completely, but the disciples nearest to me weren’t so lucky.

The bald man’s lips curled into a grin as he turned to me, his bloodied face illuminated by the eerie glow of demonic qi. The ground seemed to solidify where he stood; it didn't seem to affect allies.

"You will die first."

He lunged, his claws tearing through the air toward me, a move I had already seen before. The same attack pattern. The same murderous intent.

And thanks to my Refinement Simulation Technique, I knew exactly where it would land.

My mind calculated the trajectory in an instant. Trapped as I was, I couldn't sidestep or retreat. My feet were locked in the sinking ground. But my core was still free.

I bent backward sharply, lowering my upper body into an extreme arch, my back hovering just inches from the corrupted earth. The attack whistled past my face, missing by a hair’s breadth. My abs screamed from the strain, but I held my position, my breath steady despite the burning tension in my muscles.

Tianyi came forward, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me out. Despite her smaller frame and my immense weight, she wrestled me out with a simple grunt of effort.

"Stay back."

Then she threw me a short distance away, just past immediate danger.

Jian Feng followed up immediately, his sword arcing downward in a lethal stroke, aiming for the bald man’s throat.

But before the killing blow could land, the ground warped violently, throwing his attack trajectory off.

The earth trembled beneath them as Jian Feng’s strike went astray, narrowly missing the bald man’s throat. The demonic cultivator twisted, shifting just out of range before surging forward again.

But Tianyi was faster.

She intercepted him mid-charge, her wings flaring as she kicked off the air itself, twisting and kicking him back, her legs providing a superior reach. The bald man grunted before the impact sent him skidding backward, his feet digging trenches into the corrupted earth.

I landed with a grunt, tumbling across the snow before pushing myself upright. Tianyi had thrown me far enough that I was out of immediate danger, but not so far that I was out of the fight. I sucked in a deep breath, my body aching from the harsh landing.

Good.

I had a job to do.

From my new vantage point, I surveyed the battlefield. The formations had settled naturally—Tianyi and two disciples against the bald man, while Windy, Jian Feng, and another disciple took on the hooded figure.

Windy struck again, launching from the shifting ground like an arrow loosed from a bow. His aim was perfect, his body twisting mid-air to avoid a counterstrike. The hooded man snarled, swiping at him with his free hand, but Windy blurred—his body slipping through the cultivator’s grip as if he were a ghost.

He disengaged, landing fluidly in the snow.

My eyes narrowed.

The earth had stopped churning.

The hooded cultivator had removed his palms from the ground, focusing fully on combat now, and though the battlefield was still difficult to maneuver in, the creeping quicksand effect had stopped spreading. The affected ground remained soft and difficult to maneuver, but it no longer shifted as violently as before.

A slow breath left my lips.

This was still a brutal battle. Despite being outnumbered, the demonic cultivators fought with a single, overwhelming advantage—their complete disregard for their own lives. Every attack was all-or-nothing, with no thought given to preserving their bodies outside of their necks and heart. They fought to kill, and it seemed if they could take someone with them, that was enough.

The Verdant Lotus disciples, on the other hand, weren’t accustomed to such savage, relentless assaults. The soft earth had thrown them off further, making them hesitant, their movements sluggish compared to their usual precision.

But we were still winning. In fact, none of the cultists landed a clean hit yet.

Why?

My eyes flicked between the ongoing fights, following every exchange, every clash of steel and claw.

Tianyi.

Windy.

Individually, they were the strongest here—but mostly in raw cultivation level. If it came to the refinement of technique and skill, the disciples were superior.

And yet, their presence had shifted what should have been a hard-fought battle into a slow, but inevitable victory.

Windy struck again, his lithe form weaving through attacks like water through cracks. There was no hesitation in his movements, no fear in his approach. Tianyi’s face remained blank as she danced through her fight with superhuman speed; the cultists had to defend against the second-class disciple's attacks, along with her strikes from above.

There was no fear paralyzing their movement.

And that was the difference.

The Verdant Lotus disciples were strong, but they were human. And humans hesitated in the face of something like this. How could they not? A single scratch from these monsters could mean corruption sinking into their bodies. A single mistake could be fatal.

But Tianyi and Windy?'

They weren’t human.

They had faced death. Survived it.

And more than that—Tianyi had fought these them before. Windy had suffered at their hands. They understood this enemy on a deeper level. And unlike the disciples, they didn’t hesitate.

This wasn’t a sparring match or a sect competition. This was survival.

The disciples’ carefully practiced stances were being eroded by the battlefield itself. But Windy and Tianyi fought practically. Cleanly. Without waste.

A battle like this wasn’t won with perfect execution. It was won by adapting.

I clenched my fists.

They’re keeping us in this fight.

I needed to do my part.

I reached into my pouch, fingers wrapping around the cool glass of a vial. I had spent the last hour preparing for this exact moment.

The disciples weren’t at their peak. The winter chill slowed their movements. The terrain was against them. Their fear worsened the quality of their attacks.

But I could change that.

I uncorked the vial with my teeth, tilting it back, then hurled it toward the disciple who was struggling to keep up.

"Sun Yang!" I shouted, catching his attention. His head snapped toward me just in time to see the glass vial sailing through the air. "Drink it!"

He caught it, his movements sluggish from the cold and the corrupting qi lingering in the air. There was hesitation in his eyes, but he trusted me enough to obey without question. He downed the Warming Tonic in one go.

The effect was near-instantaneous.

His posture straightened, the tension bleeding from his limbs. His breathing evened out, and the fog in his gaze cleared. He flexed his fingers, testing the renewed strength in his body.

Then, a shadow loomed.

The bald man’s eyes flicked toward me, catching the exchange. His lips peeled back in a snarl as he surged forward, claws bared and wreathed in thick, black qi.

Too fast.

I barely had time to react, let alone move out of the way.

Fine.

I yanked another vial from my pouch.

With a snap of my wrist, I hurled it at his feet.

The Explosive Elixir shattered on impact.

A burst of flame erupted between us, the force sending snow and debris flying. The bald man twisted mid-charge, forced to pivot away to avoid the worst of the explosion.

And that was all the opening Tianyi needed.

She appeared in a blur, wings slicing through the air.

The bald man tried to evade, but the explosion had thrown him off balance. He managed to avoid a fatal strike, but not completely.

A wet slice filled the air.

His pinky finger spun through the snow, severed cleanly at the joint.

The man let out a guttural hiss, cradling his injured hand, but Tianyi had already retreated from his range.

He bared his teeth. "You dare—"

I was already moving, scanning the battlefield, looking for weak points.

Sun Wang, now reinvigorated, had rejoined the battle, his swordplay noticeably sharper. The temporary boost from the tonic had restored his clarity, and he was no longer just reacting—he was attacking.

Good.

I continued my work, weaving through the battlefield as quickly as I could. A support role wasn’t passive, it was about control.

I wasn’t just throwing out vials blindly. I was watching, predicting, strengthening the key points before they collapsed.

A disciple near the edge of the fight wavered, his stance faltering.

A Qi Restorative landed in his hand.

"Drink."

Another disciple hesitated, his breathing labored from exertion. I gave him a restorative elixir to replenish his stamina.

Meanwhile, Tianyi and Windy ensured that none of my openings were exploited. Every time I moved, they adjusted, intercepting any demonic cultivator that even thought of coming for me.

The two cultists honed their sights on me whenever I neared; whether it was because of my provocations or my support, I didn't know. I used it to my advantage, diving in with resolute trust.

Trust in my companions.

Bit by bit, the tide shifted.

The demonic cultivators were forced into tighter positions. They were still ferocious, still lethal, but for the first time since the fight began, they were cornered.

Their backs touched.

Blood dripped from open wounds.

Surrounded.

Victory was within our grasp.

And then—

A voice.

Low, drawling, and cutting through the thick of battle despite being no more than a whisper.

"Why do the worshippers of the Heavenly Demon struggle against mere insects?"

The air turned to ice.

My breath hitched as a new presence unfurled from the cave.

No.

Not a person.

A monster.

Slowly, it stepped forward, emerging from the cavern’s depths.

Despite their injuries, despite their imminent defeat, the two demonic cultists dropped their heads, pressing them to the ground immediately.

Their bloodied forms bowed, their voices trembling—not with fear, but with reverence.

"We apologize, Envoy!