Novel Full Chapter 993: Date With Manuka!
Chapter 993: Date With Manuka!
With a final inspection, Manuka nodded and passed her the pill.
Luma swallowed it.
The next moments…
Golden-green light spread through Luma’s veins, forcing out the black wisps of poison that clung desperately to her meridians. She arched backward as the energy surged. Then—as suddenly as it had begun—she slumped forward, breathing heavily but peacefully.
Manuka moved close, inspecting her pulse.
Clear. Even.
The corruption—gone.
A sigh of astonishment escaped her lips. The room remained still as Manuka slowly stood, turning toward the door.
“Bring him here,” she ordered.
Phillip was already waiting just outside the herb compound’s moon gate, seated cross-legged under a Red Mist tree, playing with a strand of his hair as though expecting this moment.
When the door opened, and the senior alchemist beckoned him in, he stood with a calm smirk and entered slowly.
Manuka waited near the central lotus pool, her arms crossed and her tone unreadable.
“You named this pill well,” she said. “It does exactly what you promised.”
Phillip bowed slightly. “I never make empty claims, Lady Manuka.”
“Where did you learn to make it?”
Phillip tilted his head, stepping beside the pool and peering into the gently swirling waters. “Let’s just say I studied many things in solitude. Sometimes, time is a better teacher than a master.”
Manuka frowned. “That may be poetic, but it tells me nothing.”
He looked at her then, eyes glinting with a strange amusement.
“If you truly want to know,” he said, “take me to the city market tomorrow. Let me see what your city hides in its corners. I can explain better with some inspiration.”
Manuka raised an eyebrow. “You want me to play tour guide?”
“You want answers. I want you. Call it an exchange. Are you afraid that people will misunderstand?” Phillip asked with a taunting look.
Her lips twitched, not quite a smile. “What is there to misunderstand! I will meet you as you want. At dawn. But I warn you, if this is another trick to earn favor, you’ll regret wasting my time.”
Phillip bowed again, this time with more flair.
“Lady Manuka,” he said smoothly, “if you regret anything tomorrow, it will only be that you didn’t ask me earlier.”
He turned and walked away, leaving only a ripple of his spirit in the air—like someone who knew exactly what strings to pull.
Manuka watched his back until it disappeared past the herb walls.
She turned back to the pool.
Luma now stood at the edge, humming softly to herself as she trimmed lotus leaves—healed and serene.
“What are you really, Phillip Salt?” Manuka whispered to the wind. “And why do you show interest in me? What do you want?!”
–
Next Day…
The sun hovered gently above the city, gilding the Saltwater Markets in its golden warmth. Morning traders were calling out their herbs, spices, pills, and oddities from every corner of the coastal realm. The crowd churned in waves, yet a clear path formed—because no one dared to block the presence of the two who walked through.
Phillip Salt, the newly risen young master whose reputation had recently stirred the wind, walked side by side with Manuka Lan, the enigmatic mistress of the Lan Family Herb Gardens. To the casual observer, it was an odd pairing—he, regal and unpredictable; she, cold and obsessively knowledgeable in herbology. But to those with sharper eyes, something danced in the air—something between rivalry, respect, and a slow-burning tension neither seemed willing to name.
Whispers rose as they passed.
“Isn’t that the Ice Vine Lady of the Lan Gardens?”
“She’s never walked with a man like that before.”
“That’s the Salt brat? Didn’t he just resurrect?”
Phillip, of course, heard it all. But his focus remained fixed—not on the crowd, but on the subtle shifts in Manuka’s breathing, the twitch in her brows whenever a vendor mispronounced a herb name, and the way her footsteps halted whenever she sensed a rare scent.
“You seem uneasy,” Phillip teased as they approached a small stall covered in golden-threaded moss and jars of green, shimmering sap.
“Your stride is uneven,” she said bluntly, avoiding his smirk. “You walk like a performer, not a student.”
“I prefer to walk like someone worth noticing,” Phillip said, stopping beside a rack of Spirit Pepper blossoms. “Manuka, since you’re here to enlighten me, perhaps you’d explain something simple.” He gestured to the plant with gentle fingers. “This plant here… what herb family does it belong to?”
Manuka leaned forward, gaze flicking over the tiny red peppers. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“Spirit race. Common for inducing mild fever to detoxify low-grade poisons.”
“Correct,” Phillip said smoothly. “But I wasn’t asking its race . I asked what herb family.”
Manuka blinked. “I just told you—”
“No,” he interrupted, holding up a finger. “Spirit Pepper, when grown in golden-sap soil, becomes part of the Rhaznium family due to altered mana lines. But you’re not wrong—when grown in common soil, it’s Spiritaceae. Very basic mistake. Anyone could make it.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. That smug edge in his tone irked her—but beneath it, she felt her own pulse race.
“That vendor isn’t growing these in golden-sap soil,” she said.
“And yet they carry a faint spicy afterscent, and you didn’t even notice,” Phillip said, stepping closer. “You rely too much on sight and category. A true herbalist smells, tastes, listens.”
She folded her arms. “You talk like a teacher, but what have you built?”
Phillip’s eyes gleamed. “Maybe I’m not trying to build gardens. Maybe I’m here to see which ones are already overgrown with weeds.”
Before she could respond, they came upon another vendor selling Moon Lotus roots, known for rare absorption properties.
“Pick one,” he said.
“Why?”
“Let’s test our instincts. I’ll choose too. Let’s see who gets the purer root.”
She didn’t answer but reached forward, selecting a curved, glowing root that shimmered pale white.
Phillip picked a dull-looking one—half-stained and bruised.
She smirked. “You lost. Mine is glowing with moonlight.”
He waved a hand toward a nearby alchemist, who immediately tested both.
A moment later, the alchemist stuttered. “The glowing one… infused with illusion pollen. It’s fake. But the bruised one… rare dual-harvest Moon Lotus. True purity. I haven’t seen one in twenty years!”
Manuka stood still.
“Herbology isn’t just aesthetic, Manuka,” Phillip said softly. “It’s a game of deception, memory, and… intuition.”
“Or manipulation,” she shot back, annoyed but oddly thrilled.
“Same thing,” he winked.
She turned her away in fear of showing her true thoughts on face.
–
PeterPan 🙂