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Chapter 86: I’LL HELP YOU
🕑 Added 2025-05-28 03:12:28 +0000 UTCCHAPTER
86
I’LL HELP YOU
JIEYUAN
—∞—
Jieyuan tensed as he went through another mist curtain, eyes already scanning the ground.
Meiyao was calling stops more and more often, almost every other pocket now. They hadn’t come across any beasts yet, but that was just about the only good thing he could say about the situation.
As the mist cleared around him, he just barely managed to find a relatively clear spot to step down into. Then he looked up—and, sure enough, Meiyao was standing still.
He looked around again to decide where it was safe to tread, then stepped to the side, and waited.
He kept busy scanning the forest floor, planning out his path for when they resumed, deciding exactly where he’d be stepping.
About an hour ago—right around the time Meiyao had started calling more stops—he’d noticed they were on an incline. It’d started off subtle. It could’ve easily just been some small hillock they were crossing. But the further they went, the more pronounced the angle became.
Their pace was also slower. Not because the slope made it any harder to walk—the angle was still too slight to be any trouble—but because the vegetation had changed.
Off to the side of the mist pocket wasn’t one of those massive stalwart trees from earlier, but a lean thing—though that was only in comparison to the earlier ones, as Jieyuan would still need three of himself to circle it.
Its spindly branches and needle-like leaves—which started much closer to the base—gave it the look of a cone. Though there was no way to tell for sure, as over half of it was lost in the thicker ceiling of mist above.
Jieyuan wouldn’t have minded the shift in arboreal layout—trees were just trees, and he’d never had strong feelings about them, one way or another—if not for the fact that the branches and leaves seemed awfully keen on taking short, final trips to the ground.
And—and here was the problem—contributing to the general crunchiness underfoot.
Ahead, Meiyao moved, a step to the left, then to the right, like she was looking for something, gliding effortlessly across the dense forest floor in that silent prowl of hers. She looked wholly intent on the mist around them, and yet she made only the slightest of sounds—when even a falling feather might’ve made a racket.
Meiyao clearly wasn’t having any issues with that. But as good as Jieyuan had gotten over the last few hours, he wasn’t anywhere near her level yet.
Of course, Daojue was already better at it—even though they’d both started working on it at the same time, and just as noisy as each other. Because of course Daojue had already surpassed him. It was Daojue.
And speak of rust…
Jieyuan glanced to the side as Daojue stepped smoothly, soundlessly, into the mist pocket, right beside him.
… and it shall appear.
Jieyuan was a quick study—no doubt about that—but Daojue was the kind of student who could sleep through every class and still ace each and every exam. Except Daojue wasn’t satisfied with coasting on talent alone—he put in just as much effort as anyone else, if not more.
Jieyuan sighed—or tried to, anyway. What came out of his mouth was “Ablaze,” whispered softly in a never-ending drone. Right. He’d grown so used to Maeva chanting the hymns through him that he sometimes forgot it was happening.
He cast another look around. Meiyao was still pacing back and forth. She did that sometimes, when they stopped—and he took it as a sign things were even worse than when she stayed put. The fact that this was already the twentieth time in the past hour didn’t bode well.
Aside from Meiyao’s faint footsteps and his even fainter chant, there was silence—a low, whistling kind that seemed unique to this place. To the Dome. As far as he could tell, the mist blocked not just sight, but sound as well. The only thing it let through was the breeze, and with it, that deep, sickly scent of both thriving life and festering decay.
Near Meiyao, the cone-shaped tree pulsed. Unlike the massive ones from earlier, it didn’t give off a constant glow—instead, it throbbed with light. The brown of its trunk and branches beat in a steady rhythm, slow as breath, while its leaves flashed much faster, blinking bright green.
Something else that pulsed—except white instead of brown—were the briers. They’d started cropping up a while back. He could see several patches now, including a tall tangle just off to his side—a wild, glowing bramble of pale stems, thick with green-tipped thorns.
Thorns. Tenth-sign Redsoul thorns. Easily the worst problem so far.
The nasty things could slice through robe, skin, and flesh like silver shears through cheap cloth. About an hour back, he’d walked into one crossing into the next mist pocket—and if it hadn’t been for his greaves, he might’ve lost the leg. Shove someone into one of those, and unless they were at high-sign Redsoul themselves, they wouldn’t be getting back up.
“New prism.” Maeva’s voice rang in his ear like she was standing right beside him.
Jieyuan sent his soulsense inward. His soulprism floated at the center of his soul, still spinning slightly from the attuning session Maeva must’ve just finished. It was already significantly larger. Not quite a tenth of its full size yet, but not far off, either. The rest of his soul center was empty—Maeva had used up all of his unattuned chroma.
He took out another prism and tucked it into his robes.
Maeva got right back to it. His mouth moved on its own, chanting, “Flaming.”
That was the fourth prism, which meant Maeva had been cultivating for him for about nine hours now—three sessions of harvesting, and just as many of attuning. With no day or night to go by, this was the best way he’d found to track time.
Counting the few hours it had taken him before he’d come up with the idea to use Absolute Will Command for cultivation, they’d been walking for over twenty hours now. If they’d kept to their rhythm from the Gleamstone Valley, they’d have stopped already—but Jieyuan figured Meiyao wanted to push it as far as she could.
He already had a pretty good idea of how he’d make it to the other side, so there wasn’t much point in looking around anymore.
As always, his gaze drifted back to Meiyao.
She’d gone still again, half-turned to him. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed.
He wondered, not for the first time—not even for the hundredth—what exactly she was thinking. Or rather, what was going on inside her head.
He’d long since given up on spotting any signs of danger himself. The mist always looked the same whenever Meiyao stopped. Their surroundings never gave anything away either—which made sense, since the problem wouldn’t lie inside the pocket, but somewhere beyond it.
He didn’t know how Meiyao could tell something was wrong—whether it was something she saw, or heard, or sensed in some other way. Though, with her eyes closed right now, he could probably rule out seeing.
He didn’t know what exactly she was doing, either. It looked like she was just waiting for danger to pass, but it happened too often, too regularly, for that to be all it was. If some beast were really lurking nearby, it didn’t make sense for them to move on so quickly every time. But if it wasn’t that, he had no better guess.
He was still watching Meiyao, still wondering, when she turned to him and Daojue and said, “We’ll stop here for today.”
She kept her voice low, but not enough to count as a whisper.
Probably safe to make some noise, then—just not too much.
“I’ll take first watch,” she added.
With that, she walked over to the tree—the makeshift rope between them going almost taut—and leaned back against the trunk, head angled toward the mist ahead. The lower branches hung barely a foot above her.
Daojue said nothing. He just took a few steps forward, sat down on the ground, crossed his legs, closed his eyes, and set Gleaming End beside him.
Jieyuan didn’t move, his eyes on Meiyao. This whole strange business with the viridian mist aside, she seemed more like herself. More open. Less thorny.
It was worth a shot.
He walked over.
Maeva, I’ll need—
“All yours,” Maeva said.
He paused mid-step as she stepped out of him, like his body was just a doorway to somewhere else. She glanced at Meiyao, then smirked at him. “Good luck.”
Thanks.
He cut off the realmskill, and she vanished.
Jieyuan stopped beside Meiyao. She was still looking out into the mist.
Facing away from her, he set his back against the trunk, mirroring her posture.
He stared past a short row of brambles into the glowing, deep green haze enclosing them.
For a while, he didn’t say anything—just to see if Meiyao would break the silence or react to his presence. He’d learned that trick as a negotiation tactic, but nothing said it couldn’t work in other situations too.
Or rather, nothing except the situation at hand. The seconds trailed by in silence. Meiyao didn’t even seem to notice him.
Normally, he’d have assumed she was ignoring him. She’d done plenty of that over the past few days. But after everything that had happened today, there was a good chance she really hadn’t noticed. That she was caught up with whatever it was she did when she was guiding them through the mist.
Honestly, he’d have preferred it if she were pissed off. At least he knew how to deal with Meiyao when she was in a foul mood. Things had turned out just fine back in the palace’s gleamstone room, after she’d stormed out of the conference. Ask a few questions to get things going, then listen while she vented. Simple as sin.
But he was on wholly unfamiliar ground around this tense, morose Meiyao. Or, as might be the case, this eerie, distant Meiyao, who wasn’t quite all there, her mind somewhere else.
Well, he’d just have to bite the coin and hope for gold.
“How are you holding up?” he asked. He watched her from the corner of his eye.
The silence stretched a bit longer. Then she said, softly, without turning to him, “Fine.”
So she had been ignoring him. But she’d answered. Small steps on the road to fortune.
“If you want to talk—”
“I’m sorry,” Meiyao said, turning toward him, in a tone that was about the farthest thing from sorry, unless sorry came with a mean right hook and barbs, “but what the rot gave you the idea I wanted to talk right now?”
She hissed the words, and it hit harder than if she’d shouted. Her voice dripped venom.
A moment ago, he’d wished for a furious Meiyao. In hindsight, he should’ve specified he didn’t mean furious at him.
He pushed off the tree, rounding on her. Something sparked in his chest—hot, scalding—and he had to bite back a retort.
When people got angry at him, his first instinct was to snap right back. That was the Firesoul in him. He’d never been more grateful for his father’s lessons in self-control. Brutal, but necessary. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Even so, he couldn’t stop himself as he gave voice to something that had been eating at him for a while now.
“If this is about what happened with Yongyi, at the end—”
“Oh, it’s about Yongyi, all right,” Meiyao snarled. Her lips pulled back, eyes wide, frenzied. “And Uncle Yiming. And my whole rotting family, who are all rotting dead and—”
She cut herself off. Closed her eyes. Took a step back. Put up a hand.
“It’s not— It’s not that.” Her voice wavered, shook. “Not you. It’s just that we’re so rotting slow— And they are still out there, the rotting traitors— And I just— I can’t— Can’t wait years to—”
She slammed a gauntleted fist into the tree, hard enough to make it shake. Then she dropped her head.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, so softly her words were almost swallowed by the breeze.
No venom this time—she meant it, no question. But Jieyuan would’ve preferred another dose of venom over this shot of heartache.
“It’s… I’m not… Just…” She stumbled over the words. “I just need to think on my own. I’m still… still…”
Before he knew it, Jieyuan was already stepping forward, reaching out. He wrapped his arms around Meiyao and pulled her in close.
There was a moment of resistance as Meiyao froze—then she threw herself forward, clinging to him tight enough to hurt, burying her head in his shoulder.
Her heart pounded against his chest like a rapid drum. Her breath came just as fast—shallow, hot, catching every few seconds, like she kept forgetting how to breathe. A slow, damp warmth spread across his shoulder, soaking through the cloth.
He didn’t know how long they stayed like that. But gradually, slowly, Meiyao’s breath and heartbeat slowed, and her grip on him began to ease.
When he felt her push lightly against him, he let go, and she stepped back, head raised.
Meiyao looked straight at him. Her green eyes were reddened at the edges, moist, the kind of look that came from holding too much in for too long. There was something unreadable in her face—tired, maybe, or bracing for something she hadn’t quite decided whether to say.
Then she gave a small, soft nod.
She sank down to the ground without a word, settling back against the tree. She bunched her knees up in front of her, arms wrapping around them, pulling them in until they pressed tight against her chest.
Jieyuan watched her for a moment longer, then lowered himself beside her, looking away.
She didn’t say anything else. Neither did he.
But this kind of silence—Jieyuan didn’t mind it.
It was a while later when Meiyao spoke, her voice quiet. “I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all. Every last one of them.”
And he said, simply, “I’ll help you.”
Nothing more needed to be said.
