Love Burning Amidst the Ashes. - Chapter 20 - The Herb Garden Turmoil

The thick, cloying stench of scorched fumes and coppery blood clung like a tangible, viscous oilcloth, suffocating every inch of the alchemy chamber. Xu Qing Xuan lay slumped against the cold wall. Each breath dragged a double-edged agony from his old dantian wound and the backlash from his sea of consciousness—like countless ants writhing through his organs and skull. His face was as pale as funeral paper, with traces of dried blood at the corners of his mouth. The front of his blue outer robe was a mess, stained with spattered blood and charred medicinal liquids. The leather belt cinched tightly around his waist felt as though it was trying to bind his fractured ribs back together. The yin-yang jade pendant hung dull and gray at his side, cold to the touch, bereft of any spiritual luster—like a stone that had exhausted its last spark of life.

The thunderous explosion of the cauldron had long since drawn the garden attendants and nearby alchemy apprentices. Now, the narrow doorway of the chamber was crowded with faces full of shock and uncertainty. Whispered murmurs buzzed like mosquitoes. Their eyes darted between the chaos on the floor, the fractured runes on the cauldron’s shell, and Xu Qing Xuan, slumped in the corner—probing, gleeful, and nakedly greedy. Although the Condensation Dew Pill was destroyed, the remnants of the thousand-year Cold Jade Marrow and Snow Lotus Core were still priceless treasures.

“Move aside! What are you all crowding around for?!”

A shrill, piercing shout lashed through the noise like a whip, scattering the crowd. They quickly parted to make way as the herb garden steward, Zhao Dequan, waddled in with a potbelly and deliberate steps. His beady little eyes gleamed with cunning. Beneath his hawkish nose, two wispy mustache hairs quivered. His greedy gaze first swept across the most valuable fragments of Cold Jade Marrow on the floor, only then landing on the barely breathing Xu Qing Xuan. The corners of his mouth curled into a cold, undisguised sneer.

“Xu Qing Xuan!” Zhao Dequan’s voice suddenly rose, carrying the weight of a judgment. “How dare you! Using geothermal flames to refine high-grade pills without authorization is already a violation of the rules! And now you’ve blown up a cauldron, damaged public property, and ruined rare spiritual herbs allocated from the garden’s stores—three stalks of Mystic Frost Grass, two Ice Soul Flowers, and this thousand-year Cold Jade Marrow! Do you confess to your crimes?!”

“Mystic Frost Grass? Ice Soul Flowers?” Xu Qing Xuan gasped, his voice hoarse and weak, yet carrying a cold sharpness like a spring of ice water. “Steward Zhao… please see clearly… the main ingredients for the pill I was refining… were the Cold Jade Marrow registered in the storehouse ledgers… and the Three-Turn Snow Lotus Core I gathered myself… Where is there… any Mystic Frost Grass or Ice Soul Flower?”

“Hah! Still trying to argue?!” Zhao Dequan’s beady eyes widened. He suddenly pulled out a palm-sized jade box radiating faint spiritual fluctuations and slapped it open with a loud crack. Inside lay three stalks of deep-blue spiritual grass, their leaf edges crusted with ice crystals, along with two crystalline flowers whose hearts pulsed with cold energy. A wave of intense, frigid aura spread outward—these were none other than Mystic Frost Grass and Ice Soul Flower, high-grade materials for cold-attributed pills.

“Caught red-handed!” Zhao Dequan snarled, his spittle nearly spraying Xu Qing Xuan’s face. “I inspected the storehouse today and discovered the Mystic Frost Grass and Ice Soul Flower missing! Following the residual spiritual scent of the herbs, I traced them here—and sure enough, I found them in the wreckage of your exploded cauldron! Xu Qing Xuan, you stole from the storehouse, refined forbidden pills in secret, and destroyed a cauldron! The evidence is ironclad! By sect rules, your cultivation should be abolished, and you should be expelled from the mountain!”

Behind him, two burly guards at the mid-stage Qi Condensation level stepped forward, their spiritual energy faintly locking onto Xu Qing Xuan. The crowd at the door erupted in clamor, their gazes instantly turning to contempt and disgust. The crime of stealing from the storehouse—if confirmed—meant eternal damnation.

Xu Qing Xuan leaned against the cold wall, coughing violently. Each cough brought flecks of blood to his lips. His bloodstained fingers unconsciously clawed at the cracks in the floor, gripping a broken-rooted Seven-Star hemostatic herb. Its bitter, fresh scent mixed with the smell of blood, bringing him a sliver of clarity. Zhao Dequan’s frame-up had come too fast, too vicious—clearly premeditated. Seizing the moment of Xu Qing Xuan’s severe injuries and the chaotic scene of the exploded cauldron, he had launched a deadly strike. The target was not just a rootless handyman like him, but also an opportunity to embezzle from the storehouse—or perhaps… it had something to do with the anomalies revealed during Xu Qing Xuan’s spatial deduction just before the explosion.

Forcing down the surging blood and dizziness in his sea of consciousness, Xu Qing Xuan raised his face, smeared with blood and medicinal residue. Deep within his clear, cold eyes, a flash of icy sharpness came and went, quickly buried beneath a heavier veil of weakness and confusion. “Steward Zhao… I am wronged…” His voice was faint and halting, as if he might stop breathing at any moment. “I have… never… seen these herbs before… The storehouse… has clear ledgers… every withdrawal… can be checked…”

“Clear ledgers?” Zhao Dequan laughed as if he had heard the funniest joke. His wispy mustache quivered as he let out a series of piercing cackles. “Hahaha! The ledgers are naturally clean! But do you think I don’t know your dirty tricks? You must have used your access to the herb gardens to alter the records! Xu Qing Xuan, the evidence is solid. There’s no room for denial! Seize him!”

The two guards grinned viciously and stepped forward to restrain him.

“Wait!” Xu Qing Xuan suddenly drew a sharp breath, as if using every last ounce of his strength. His voice rasped: “Since… Steward says there are clear ledgers… I beg… for an on-the-spot audit! Storehouse… Plot Ding-3… last month’s incoming records… for Mystic Frost Grass… were five stalks… There has been… no harvest record… this month… So where… did the three lost stalks come from?”

Zhao Dequan’s sneer froze slightly. Plot Ding-3? That was indeed one of the areas Xu Qing Xuan was responsible for. Even on the verge of death, the brat’s mind was still sharp? He snorted coldly. “Hmph! The ledger records are naturally correct! But if you harvested them in secret, why would they be recorded? Stop trying to divert attention!”

“Secret harvesting… would leave traces…” Xu Qing Xuan gasped, his bloodied fingers fumbling weakly inside his robe. He pulled out a worn, frayed roll of birch bark tied with hemp cord. “I… make daily rounds… and keep a private ledger… recording every herb’s… growth, pests… even leaf vein markings… are all here… In Plot Ding-3… there are currently… seven stalks of Mystic Frost Grass… located at…”

He spoke in fragments, his trembling hands trying to untie the hemp cord on the birch-bark scroll. The bark was rough and crude, covered in dense, intricate symbols and lines drawn with charcoal—like ghost scratches. Compared to the storehouse’s clean, neatly written jade-slip ledgers, it looked pathetic and laughable.

“Shut up!” A flicker of barely concealed panic crossed Zhao Dequan’s eyes. He barked sharply, “Nonsense! What kind of gibberish scratches are those?! You dare use them to confuse the issue? This is the very evidence of your ledger tampering! Seize it!”

One of the guards snatched the birch-bark scroll and presented it to Zhao Dequan like a trophy.

Zhao Dequan didn’t even look at it. He raised his hand as if to tear it apart, sneering, “Pointless death throes of a useless—”

His voice stopped abruptly.

Because a steady, resonant voice—like metal striking jade, like an evening drum or morning bell—suddenly rang out at the doorway of the alchemy chamber:

“Steward Zhao, wait.”

The crowd parted once more. An elder in a sky-blue alchemist’s robe, with a lean, refined face and three strands of long beard hanging from his chin, walked in with his hands behind his back. His gaze was calm but carried an intangible pressure—it was Elder Li, who oversaw alchemy affairs for the outer sect! Behind him followed a short, stout man in coarse, short hemp clothing. His face was full of shrewdness, yet now carried a hint of fear—the spiritual herb merchant, Old Chen Jiu!

Elder Li’s gaze swept calmly across the chaotic scene, pausing briefly on Xu Qing Xuan’s dire state. His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. Then he turned to Zhao Dequan and said flatly, “Auditing ledgers is a matter of sect law. Whether they are open or private ledgers, they may be reviewed. Steward Zhao… may I have a look at what you are holding?”

Beads of cold sweat instantly broke out on Zhao Dequan’s forehead. His hand, clutching the birch-bark scroll, trembled slightly. He forced a smile and said, “Elder Li… this is nothing but the scribblings of a guilty man, offensive to the eyes. There’s no need to—”

“Give it here.” Elder Li’s voice remained calm, yet carried an undeniable authority.

Zhao Dequan’s expression flickered. Left with no choice, he reluctantly handed over the rough roll of birch bark.

Elder Li took it but did not immediately examine it. Instead, he turned to Old Chen Jiu, who stood at attention to the side, barely daring to breathe. “Old Chen Jiu, you came seeking an audience with me earlier, saying you had important matters to report concerning the storehouse’s spiritual herbs?”

Old Chen Jiu shuddered all over. He stole a glance at Xu Qing Xuan, who lay slumped against the wall—barely breathing yet still sharp-eyed—then at Zhao Dequan, whose face had turned ashen. Gritting his teeth, he dropped to his knees with a thud and, trembling, pulled out a small package carefully wrapped in oil paper from his robe.

“I—I respectfully report to Elder Li! The day before yesterday… I privately purchased three stalks of Mystic Frost Grass from Steward Zhao—no, from the storehouse… He said they were from the ‘spoilage’ quota… Today, hearing that something had happened at the herb garden, I grew uneasy in my heart… I have come to confess my crime… Th-this is the transaction voucher… and… and this is what Steward Zhao… gave me… those three stalks…”

The oil paper was opened, revealing—sure enough—three stalks of Mystic Frost Grass of excellent quality! Almost identical to the three that Zhao Dequan had just “found”! Along with them, Old Chen Jiu also produced a low-quality jade token stamped with the storehouse’s special seal, recording the words “Three Stalks Mystic Frost Grass Spoilage from Plot Ding-3″—clearly Zhao Dequan’s usual method of fencing stolen goods!

Zhao Dequan’s face went deathly pale in an instant. His lips trembled, but he could not utter a single word.

Expressionless, Elder Li finally unrolled the aged birch bark. The charcoal-sketched symbols and lines seemed chaotic at first glance, but to his eyes—those of a master alchemist well-versed in the properties of herbs and armed with powerful spiritual perception—they clearly reconstructed miniature scenes of the herb garden! Plot Ding-3: the positions of the seven Mystic Frost Grass stalks, the number of leaves on each plant, even the subtle traces of hail damage on the tips of two of them—all marked meticulously! The characteristics matched perfectly with the three stalks that Old Chen Jiu had returned, as well as the “seven stalks currently present” recorded on the birch bark. Meanwhile, the storehouse’s official ledger, which recorded “five stalks,” had become the biggest flaw of all!

“Zhao Dequan,” Elder Li’s voice turned cold, like icicles in the depths of winter, “you embezzled from the storehouse, profited yourself at the sect’s expense, and framed a fellow disciple. What punishment do you deserve?!”

“N-no! It’s not me! Elder! It’s him! Xu Qing Xuan conspired with this unscrupulous merchant to frame me!” Zhao Dequan shrieked, grasping at his last straw and pointing at Xu Qing Xuan. “Those ghost scratches of his are completely fake! He planned this all along!”

“Fake?” Elder Li’s gaze swept like lightning across several inconspicuous corners of the floor. With a slight flick of his sleeve, a gentle wave of spiritual energy lifted a few tiny, dark-blue leaf fragments—mixed among the scorched medicinal residue and furnace shards—along with several specks of frozen crystals. “The aura of these Mystic Frost Grass fragments and ice crystals is indistinguishable in age and coldness from the three stalks you ‘found.’ However…” Elder Li’s voice suddenly turned sharp. “Their residual location is in the core blast zone of the exploded cauldron! If Xu Qing Xuan had truly stolen them for refining, given the nature of Mystic Frost Grass, they would have long since dissolved into the pill liquid. How could such intact fragments remain? Clearly, you threw these pre-prepared pieces of evidence into the scene after the explosion!”

The evidence was ironclad!

Zhao Dequan’s legs gave way beneath him. He collapsed to the floor, his face ashen with despair.

“Guards!” Elder Li no longer looked at him. His voice was icy. “Strip Zhao Dequan of his steward’s robes. Take him to the Punishment Hall dungeons for rigorous interrogation! All storehouse assets he embezzled must be recovered in full!”

Two enforcer disciples—as fierce as wolves—immediately stepped forward and dragged the limp Zhao Dequan out like a dead dog, leaving only his desperate wails echoing through the corridor.

Only then did Elder Li’s gaze finally return to Xu Qing Xuan, carrying a subtle hint of scrutiny and complexity. He walked slowly forward, bent down, and picked up the broken-rooted, blood-stained Seven-Star hemostatic herb from the floor. A wisp of spiritual energy at his fingertips instantly stripped away the blood and grime from the leaf, revealing its underlying bitter, fresh essence.

“Using common herbal identification methods, combined with minute traces of medicinal properties, you created your own secret symbols and private ledgers to record the finest details of the herb garden… And in a desperate situation, you still managed to find a thread of hope and strike back.” Elder Li’s voice was not loud, yet every word was clear to everyone present. “Meticulous thinking. Tenacious will. And rarest of all—this natural affinity for herbs.”

He paused. His gaze swept over the dull, gray jade pendant at Xu Qing Xuan’s waist and the destroyed cauldron, finally settling on the youth’s pale but still-straight back.

“Xu Qing Xuan.”

“Disciple… is here…” Xu Qing Xuan struggled to bow, but Elder Li stopped him with a gentle gesture.

“As of today, you are relieved of your duties as a handyman in the herb garden.” Elder Li’s voice carried the authority of a final judgment. “You are promoted to Outer Sect Apprentice Alchemist. You are granted the token for Alchemy Chamber B-13. You may temporarily enter the first floor of the Hundred Herbs Pavilion for three hours to consult texts on herbal properties and alchemy. In three days, you will submit a refined pill as your assessment.”

A warm, green jade token was gently placed by Elder Li on Xu Qing Xuan’s bloodstained hand. Carved upon it was an ancient character meaning “Alchemy.”

“Thank you… Elder…” Xu Qing Xuan gripped the still-warm token tightly, his fingertips whitening from the pressure. A wave of intense dizziness washed over him again. Spots danced before his eyes. The last breath of strength he had been clinging to finally gave way. His body swayed, and he fell into complete unconsciousness. In the moments before he blacked out, he seemed to feel the heartbeat-like pulse from his bloodline—growing ever more distant and faint, as if echoing the utter stillness of the jade pendant.

Elder Li looked at the unconscious youth, then glanced at the bloodstained birch-bark ledger on the floor. He instructed the disciple beside him, “Carry him to a quiet chamber in the alchemy hall. Bring a vial of Meridian-Warming Powder to treat his injuries.” With that, he turned and left, his green sleeves brushing against the floor, stirring up a bitter herbal breeze.

The crowd gradually dispersed. Only the wreckage and the unconscious youth remained in the alchemy chamber. No one noticed that in the corner, several fragments of Mystic Frost Grass—their edges blackened by the explosion—were quietly absorbing the aura of Xu Qing Xuan’s blood and essence that still hung in the air. Deep within their leaf veins, a faint, dark luster—something not belonging to any plant—flickered once and vanished.