Chapter 166: Scent of Lotus

Chapter 165: The Scent of Lotus

Voices drifted through the haze. Faint, measured, and echoing off polished timber.

"...his condition has stabilized, though the meridians will require time to properly mend."

"And the girl?"

"Recovering as well, General. After withstanding thirty-six strikes of heavenly lightning, neither should be disturbed under any circumstance."

A brief, heavy pause followed.

"Ensure they have access to whatever resources they require. If their recovery falters, I will hold this medical pavilion accountable."

"Understood, General."

General Vaelric.

Lothe recognized the deep, authoritative timbre immediately.

Consciousness settled into place like cold water over stone. Slowly, his eyelids parted.

He found himself staring at dark wooden ceiling beams carved with intricate cloud motifs and frost whorls. Sheer, pale silk curtains hung from the four posts of an expansive bed, their delicate embroidery catching the pale morning light.

Lothe remained still, letting his gaze sweep the room.

Polished timber flooring. Stout wooden pillars. Translucent lattice screens covering wide windows. Discreetly recessed into the wall was a small, smooth fixture casting a soft white glow—a subtle piece of surviving tech integrated seamlessly into classical architecture.

The quarters were spacious, elegant, and unmistakably reminiscent of ancient eastern estates, yet refined by post-apocalyptic ingenuity.

Lothe turned his head toward the adjoining mattress.

Empty.

His brow furrowed. No crimson silk. No familiar silhouette.

He pushed himself upright, ignoring the dull ache radiating through his muscles. The room was vacant.

A crease formed between his brows. He looked down at his own attire. The ragged, soot-blackened purple robes were gone, replaced by a crisp, tailored black-and-white robe lined with silver thread along the collar and wide sleeves. The fabric was soft, dense, and remarkably light.

Someone took the liberty of changing me, he thought dryly.

A minor detail. Seana was the priority.

He swung his legs over the edge and set his boots against the floorboards. When he stood, his knees wobbled, and the horizon tilted for a fraction of a second. He leaned against the carved post, waiting out the wave of vertigo.

His physical frame was battered. Every movement pulled at mending tissue, and his channels felt bruised from the lightning baptism. Yet beneath the ache, something entirely new hummed with steady, rhythmic weight.

At the center of his lower belly, a dark, perfectly condensed Void Core rotated smoothly, drawing the ambient Spiritual Qi of the room into an effortless cycle.

Core Formation.

A faint smirk touched the corner of his mouth. A milestone achieved. But analyzing his foundation could wait; he needed to locate Seana.

He took a step toward the sliding door.

Before his hand reached the frame, the partition slid back. A young attendant in plain white robes entered with a heavy wooden tray bearing several steaming porcelain bowls and a clay teapot.

The attendant froze, eyes wide. "Young Master! You’re awake!"

Lothe raised an eyebrow at the title. "Evidently."

The boy nearly fumbled the tray, steadying it with a panicked grip. "Please, you must return to bed! The chief physician explicitly ordered absolute rest—"

"Where is the woman brought in with me?" Lothe cut in smoothly.

The boy blinked. "The young lady?"

"Dark hair. Carries a faint scent of lotus."

The attendant swallowed, catching his breath. "She has been placed in an adjacent courtyard. Two senior herbalists are overseeing her recovery."

The tension across Lothe’s shoulders eased a fraction. "Is she conscious?"

"I cannot say, Young Master. My assignment is restricted to this pavilion. Another attendant is attending to her quarters."

Lothe considered the answer. Not entirely satisfactory, but she was alive and cared for.

"Where are we?"

"The Glacial Spirit Sect," the boy replied, looking slightly surprised. "Specifically, the inner compound of the Ashford clan."

The Ashford estate, Lothe thought.

"How long was I out?"

"Three days, sir."

Lothe’s brows lifted slightly. Three full days meant the physical strain had been far closer to catastrophic than he had estimated.

The attendant set the tray upon a low table and bowed hurriedly. "Please rest, Young Master. I will notify the head physician at once."

Lothe watched him leave, then stepped through the open threshold into the light.

A vast stone courtyard unfolded before him. Traditional tiered buildings flanked the wide avenue, their dark-tiled eaves sweeping gracefully upward toward the sky. Timber balconies looked out over stone balustrades framing ornamental koi ponds, while in the distance, jagged, snow-draped mountain peaks pierced through layers of pale morning mist.

No ruined skyscrapers. No sirens, motor engines, or neon billboards.

Instead, dozens of disciples in flowing white robes walked the perimeter. Some carried sheathed blades; others practiced forms in open formation under the strict supervision of senior instructors. Further along, a pair of sentries in dark armored tunics kept watch at an arched gate, while a woman drifted across the skyline atop a floating sword before descending onto a tiled roof.

Lothe observed the scene quietly.

Things moved fast while we were out, he reflected. The world hadn’t merely survived; it had reorganized into a functioning martial order with clear ranks, uniforms, and territorial control.

More striking than the scenery was the air itself. The concentration of ambient Spiritual Qi was remarkably dense.

Without any deliberate effort on his part, his Void Core rotated steadily, drinking in the cool, crisp energy.

At least the lodging has decent amenities, he mused.

"You’re on your feet."

Lothe turned.

General Vaelric Ashford approached along the stone veranda, hands loosely clasped behind his back. Though clad in a relaxed, deep-blue martial robe rather than his battle-scarred command armor, his military posture remained unmistakable.

Nyren walked half a pace behind him, flanked by two elderly men in pristine white robes bearing silver insignia.

Lothe adjusted his stance slightly. "General."

Vaelric’s sharp eyes took him in from boots to brow. "You look remarkably intact for a man whose meridians were charred seventy-two hours ago."

"I was told I took a three-day nap."

"Most would have taken a permanent one. Standing unassisted after that tribulation is unusual."

Lothe shrugged. "I’ve had rougher mornings."

One of the elderly physicians frowned slightly at the insolence, but Vaelric merely let out a low, dry chuckle.

"Still irreverent."

"What can i say, old habits die hard."

The General’s expression leveled into quiet seriousness. "How do you feel?"

"Like thirty-six lightning strikes left their mark," Lothe said evenly.

Vaelric shook his head. "Fair assessment."

Lothe met the older man’s gaze. "General, my thanks. For pulling us from the rubble, providing treatment, and giving us safe harbor. I don’t overlook debts."

Vaelric studied him before nodding once. "Save the gratitude. You and that girl took the brunt of a catastrophe that would have flattened everyone. Ensuring your recovery is the baseline of what this family owes you."

He paused, casting a brief glance at his daughter. "Besides, Nyren would not have let the matter rest had I neglected the two who played a vital role in all that happened"

Lothe glanced at Nyren. She kept her face impassive, offering only a slight, formal nod.

"Still, I appreciate it," Lothe said.

"Then repay the effort by resting," Vaelric instructed. "Reaching Core Formation does not magically erase torn tissue. Try not to strain yourself."

"Understood," Lothe replied. Not that I plan on lingering once I locate Seana.

The physician coughed into his sleeve, while Nyren scrutinized him as if trying to decipher whether he was joking.

Vaelric turned to leave. "Nyren, guide him through the inner grounds. Ensure he understands the layout and doesn’t stray into restricted halls."

"Father, I—" Nyren began, but the General was already moving down the colonnade, the two elders trailing in his wake.

"Report to my study once your strength stabilizes," Vaelric’s voice carried back. "We have logistics to discuss."

Silence settled over the veranda.

Nyren stood two paces away. Lothe stood by the pillar.

Neither spoke for a beat.

Nyren cleared her throat, adopting a composed, aristocratic tone. "Well, if we are to proceed—"

Lothe was already walking past her.

Her words died in her throat. "Excuse me? Where are you going?"

"To find my girlfriend." He didn’t look back.

Nyren stared at his retreating figure. "Your... girlfriend?"

"Seana."

He kept moving down the gravel path.

Nyren stood frozen for an instant.

She was the daughter of General Ashford, a prodigy of the Glacial Spirit Sect whose lineage and talent commanded respect from every elder since the apocalypse. Yet this man had dismissed her before a single sentence was finished, without so much as a backward glance.

A hairline crack fractured her icy composure.

She exhaled sharply and caught up with brisk strides. "You cannot simply wander the inner grounds unsupervised!"

"Watch me."

"That is not the point."

"Then make your point."

Nyren’s jaw tightened. "You do not know the path to the guest pavilions!"

Lothe stopped, glancing over his shoulder. "Do you?"

She paused. "What?"

"Do you know where Seana is staying?"

"Naturally. But—"

"Then lead the way."

Nyren stared at him, caught between disbelief and genuine irritation. "You could at least ask with proper decorum."

Lothe considered the request for half a second. He turned fully, his expression the picture of exaggerated, tedious politeness. "Would you be so kind as to lead me to my girlfriend?"

The delivery made it abundantly clear he considered the pleasantry a waste of breath.

Nyren’s eye gave a minute twitch.

"Follow me," she clipped out, turning on her heel and marching along the paved corridor.

Lothe walked behind her for perhaps ten paces before his boots came to a halt.

Nyren took two more steps before realizing the rhythm of his footfalls had ceased. She spun around, exasperated. "What now?"

Lothe stood entirely still, his chin slightly lifted, head tilted toward the wind.

His senses flared.

A faint, clean note rode the mountain breeze.

Floral. Subtle. Unmistakable.

Lotus.

He drew a slow breath through his nose. Beneath the cold air of the peaks and the medicinal incense drifting from the compound, the distinct, sweet fragrance of blooming lotus lingered—threaded through with the razor-thin metallic resonance of Crimson Blood Qi.

His mouth curved into a quiet, certain smile.

He couldn’t say whether it was the resonance of their synchronized breakthrough, his heightened Core Formation senses, or simply the sheer amount of time they had spent shoulder to shoulder. But he knew that presence.

He could trace it through an iron wall.

Lothe turned forty-five degrees to the right, stepping toward a quiet, flagstone pathway flanked by bamboo groves that diverged entirely from the main thoroughfare.

Nyren followed his gaze, alarmed. "That path leads toward the eastern medicinal gardens. The guest quarters are to the north."

Lothe was already walking.

"Where are you going?!"

"That way."

"Why?"

"She’s over there."

Nyren looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "That is impossible. The guest quarters were assigned by the pavilion stewards. You couldn’t possibly—"

Lothe ignored the protest. With every stride, the scent grew crisper, the faint hum of Blood Qi firmer against his spatial perception.

Nyren hurried to keep pace, her annoyance mounting. "Wait! How could you possibly know where she is?"

Lothe slipped beneath an arched moon-gate, stepping past two startled junior disciples who scrambled aside at his stride. The floral air deepened, cool and familiar.

Found you, Love.

Behind him, Nyren watched his back in quiet bewilderment.

He moved without hesitation, guided by an invisible thread she could neither see nor comprehend.

"At least wait for the me!" she called out, picking up her pace.?