"You mean to tell me that entire area is now a dense, impassable jungle, and it's full of hidden dangers? That the three old masters from the Goulu Sect were all lost in there?" a wide-eyed man asked. His hands shook, causing the tea in his cup to ripple as he spoke in a hushed whisper.
"They got what they deserved," someone else at the rough wooden table scoffed, taking a deep swig of his cheap, bitter drink. He slammed the mug down, the sound echoing in the sudden lull of the room. "Thinking they could just walk in and take it."
"That's not the half of it," another man added. He leaned in conspiratorially, his shadow stretching long across the scarred tabletop as he lowered his voice even further. "Even the so-called number one master of the martial world, Tianmu Gate's Sect Leader, barely made it out alive. He lost an arm and the will to ever go back. They say the place is a demon's nest now. Even the flowers and plants will attack you, vines snapping like whips."
Inside the modest, crowded inn, the air was thick with the smell of stale ale, unwashed bodies, and the damp heat of the afternoon. A small group huddled together, exchanging the latest, fearful rumors. It had been about a month since the golden light had first pierced the heavens, a beacon of promise and peril. By now, everyone from the lowliest beggar to the highest merchant knew a priceless treasure was hidden deep in the southern mountains, yet no one could claim to have laid eyes on it. They had only seen the deadly green wall that protected it.
Many had hired local hunters as guides, men who knew every deer trail and hidden stream. But when they reached the specific foothills, it was like stepping into another world, a world that had moved on without them. The landscape was choked with impossibly lush, aggressive vegetation, as if decades of untamed growth had happened in a single, unnatural night. The old, familiar trails were completely gone, swallowed by gnarled roots and iron-hard thorns.
More unsettling was the palpable, watchful hostility that seemed to emanate from the mountain itself. The very plants seemed to track their movements and resent their presence. A deep, primal fear had begun to settle in the stomachs of even the bravest hearts. After the news spread that a full team of three seasoned, well-respected cultivators had been wiped out without leaving a single trace behind, many simply gave up. They no longer dared to challenge the cursed, living peak.
"To think... that person stayed here all this time, just for that treasure," one of the wealthier merchants mused. He shook his head in a mixture of awe and disbelief, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on his silk robes. "Tsk, tsk... the patience of it."
At the Fuding Merchant Guild's headquarters, the local branch manager sipped his tea. He maintained an air of practiced, calm detachment, though the steam from his cup dampened his brow. The tea itself was special, a subtle luxury cultivated from the bamboo leaves in Su Min's own grove. These leaves had been nourished for years by the spiritually rich, discarded waste from her countless alchemical sessions, giving the brew a faint, floral resonance.
Some of those very bamboo stalks had evolved into true spiritual herbs, and a fortunate few had even awakened as minor, sentient spirits. Grass and wood spirits were blessed that way. They seemed to intuit their own path of cultivation directly from the world itself, needing no master. Half a month ago, the manager had sent a full, detailed report to his true master, Prince Yong. The prince's response had been swift and crystal clear. He immediately withdrew all his forces from the region, deciding not to involve himself any further in a fight that was clearly beyond his current means.
"Prince Fu has given the order," the manager said to his nervous assistant. A cold, knowing chuckle escaped his lips as he set the delicate porcelain down. "We are to warmly welcome the emperor's envoys and offer them all the information we have gathered. We are to be most helpful."
There was little need for outright deception. Other than the explosive, politically charged truth of Su Min's identity, everything else could be freely shared. Knowing who she truly was—the daughter of the purged Minister Su—had cemented her own path long ago. It was destined to be in direct opposition to the Wei Emperor and his regime.
Sure enough, that very day, three distinct and overwhelmingly oppressive auras descended upon the city like a physical weight. The once bustling, noisy streets fell into a deathly, unnatural silence as the shadows of the three newcomers lengthened across the cobblestones. A palpable, cold fear gripped every heart. These weren't ordinary cultivators. They were beings of such concentrated power that any one of them could slaughter everyone in the city without breaking a sweat. And there were three of them. Even the most greedy and reckless treasure hunters, who had been loitering for weeks, fled in a blind panic and abandoned all their gear. No one in their right mind would risk facing such overwhelming, annihilating might for a treasure they hadn't even seen.
The three newcomers, however, paid no mind to the chaos and terror they caused. Though the city was known to harbor fugitives and dissidents from the court, their mission was singular and absolute. They were to retrieve the heaven-sent treasure and, by any means necessary, bring the elusive alchemist back to the capital. The treasure had appeared in the Southern Frontier, and the alchemist had been hiding here for years. The connection was obvious. She must be its guardian.
Recruiting her was the most logical, beneficial move. A skilled, Tier Two alchemist was far too valuable a resource to simply kill out of hand. But if she refused, if she proved stubborn, then death was the only answer. They wouldn't allow such an asset to remain outside the court's control. The branch manager could barely stand upright under the pressure radiating from the trio. Their killing intent was a tangible, suffocating storm, fierce and cold, unlike anything he had ever felt in his life.
Only now did he truly understand the meaning of "true strength." Compared to them, Su Min had always been remarkably, almost kindly restrained in his presence. She had never unleashed such an overwhelming, soul-crushing force upon him. He answered their terse questions without holding back, his voice steady despite his trembling knees. He concealed only the one critical, dangerous fact: Su Min's true name and her bloody history with the throne. If he betrayed that and she somehow found out, he knew a quick death at the envoys' hands would be a mercy compared to her wrath.
Fortunately, the three envoys had already gathered rough intelligence about a powerful female alchemist from other, less informed sources. They suspected nothing from him, allowing Su Min's most dangerous secret to remain safe, for now. As for his own Body Refining bodyguard, who stood pale and rigid against the wall, the trio didn't even spare him a glance. Such low-level cultivators were now common enough in the Great Wei Empire, a testament to the Demon Queen's methods. These weren't the fragile, early years of cultivation secrecy anymore.
Meanwhile, deep within the heart of the transformed mountains.
"So, the court has finally made its move," Su Min murmured from within her simple bamboo hut. Her eyes were half-lidded in calm contemplation as she felt their arrival like a foul stench on the wind, a metallic tang of corrupted qi and old blood. "Sending out Qi Refining puppets. They don't disappoint."
"So they have come at last," she whispered to the quiet, listening forest around her. The leaves shimmered in response, the forest now an extension of her own will. "Killing you three won't taint my karma. On the contrary, it will only add to my merit." There was a grim satisfaction in her tone.
In the game world she remembered, players were bound by similar cosmic rules. Committing atrocities against the innocent could lead to stat debuffs and even madness, while destroying true, world-threatening evil could grant strange blessings and rare titles. But this was no longer a game with respawns and save points. Here, the punishments were real and permanent, and madness was a terrifying, inescapable state. Yet, the principle held. Exterminating monsters like these—creatures of pure corruption—came with tangible, precious rewards. Su Min found herself looking forward to the fight, to the spoils of a righteous slaughter.
Of course, she had no intention of meeting them in an open field on their terms. That would be the height of foolish pride. Here, within her home terrain, surrounded by her countless traps and natural allies, she held every possible advantage. Victory was all but assured, and she wouldn't waste that gift by being reckless.
"Let's see what you are made of, imperial hounds. Let me see if your training has prepared you for a forest that hates you," she whispered with a low, cold laugh that held no humor. "If you can't even pass through my Sea of Trees, don't bother wasting your time. But if you insist on barging in, don't blame me for being merciless." Her voice was soft but carried a finality that echoed in the still air.
Against a true Qi Refining cultivator, numbers of Body Refining fighters were useless, mere chaff before the wind. The key was to have her own Qi Refining strength solidified before they arrived. Then she could seize the treasure without worry and face them on equal footing. As for the lackeys the dog emperor sent, killing them would be a fine way to settle a very old, very personal grudge. She hadn't forgotten the torment and helplessness she suffered when she first arrived in this world, a memory that still burned like a brand in her mind.
Of course, she wasn't concerned about these spirits harming innocents after she left. Plant spirits typically lived by peacefully absorbing the spiritual essence of heaven and earth, growing slowly over centuries. They found blood and flesh repulsive, not nourishing. Their violence was reserved for those who threatened their home.
"Right. Before I leave, I should warn the villagers," she decided, her thoughts turning practical. She would tell them to regularly offer simple sacrifices to the forest spirits, perhaps sprinkling the ash from burned spiritual herbs as fertilizer. In return, the spirits would protect them from bandits and wild beasts. Most of the villagers had already evacuated deeper into the mountains, awaiting the day they could return safely. If they treated the spirits well, these creatures could become their simple, steadfast guardians. It cost her nothing to leave them this means of survival in a harsh world.
Just as she had predicted, within less than a month, several cultivators arrived, drawn by the sky's beacon. Some, after testing the forest's edge and finding it impenetrable and alive with hostile intent, wisely retreated, their greed outweighed by their sense of self-preservation.
Others, driven by blinding greed and stubborn pride, pushed on, convinced of their own superiority. They perished within the boundless green, never even catching a glimpse of the glowing treasure, let alone setting foot in Su Min's courtyard. The forest had become a silent, efficient guardian, a green scythe that harvested the unworthy, and its mistress waited patiently at its heart, preparing for the true challenges to come.
And soon, everyone would find out if she would kneel to that power, or if she would make her stand and become a legend against the empire itself. The mountain waited, and the world watched.