The Verdant Lotus Valley shimmered under the early morning sun, its barren expanse softened by patches of green where Arin Jinhwan's Amrita Grains and Whispering Vines had taken root. Arin stood at the edge of the field, his hands caked with dirt, his eyes fixed on the silver-hued stalks that now reached his knees. The past few days had been a whirlwind of progress and peril—the Amrita Grains' growth, the Iron Fang's attack, and the vision of the Eternal Seed that had revealed the Grove of Beginnings. The grove, a sacred place lost to time, held answers to the valley's past and the Eternal Seed's purpose, and Arin knew he had to find it. The land's heartbeat pulsed stronger now, a rhythm that matched his own, urging him forward.
Naya Seorin stood beside him, her robe shimmering with lotus patterns, her dark hair tied back with a silk thread that pulsed faintly with qi. Her mother's journal lay open in her hands, its pages glowing softly as she traced a map sketched in elegant script. "The Grove of Beginnings is deep in the valley," she said, her voice steady but tinged with unease. "Mother wrote that it's hidden behind a qi barrier, a remnant of the ancient guardians who protected the land. It's a day's journey, maybe more, and the path is dangerous—wild beasts, unstable qi currents, and…" She hesitated, her eyes meeting Arin's. "The Iron Fang. They'll be watching."
Arin nodded, his hand resting on the locket around his neck, the pressed neem leaf a reminder of his grandfather's teachings. "We have to go," he said, his voice firm. "The grove could hold the key to restoring the valley. If the Eternal Seed is tied to this land, we need to understand why." Naya's gaze softened, a flicker of admiration in her eyes. "You're right," she said. "But we can't go unprepared. The village needs to be ready in case the Iron Fang strikes while we're gone."
The village had rallied after the last attack, their trust in Arin growing with each sprout that emerged from the soil. But fear still lingered, a shadow cast by the Iron Fang's threats. Arin turned to the field, his mind racing. The Whispering Vines had proven their worth, sensing danger and defending the crops, but they needed more—something to heal, to strengthen the villagers for what was to come. He flipped through Naya's journal, stopping at the entry for Lotus of the Dawn, a flower that bloomed with healing light, its qi capable of mending wounds and restoring energy. "We'll plant these before we go," he said, pointing to the sketch. "If the Iron Fang comes, the village will need healing."
Naya agreed, and they set to work, gathering the villagers for a planting session. Kael, the elder, led a pre-journey prayer, his staff raised as the villagers formed a circle around the new plot. Their voices rose in a chant, a blend of Murim melodies and Indian rhythms, echoing the Pongal songs Arin knew so well. "Om Bhumi Namah," Arin murmured, his hands sinking into the soil alongside the others, channeling qi into the earth. The Lotus of the Dawn seeds, small and pearlescent, glowed as they took root, their qi blending with the soil's heartbeat. By midday, the plot shimmered with faint light, the first buds already forming, a promise of healing for the village.
The villagers worked with renewed purpose, their hands steady as they planted and channeled qi. Lila, the mother Arin had helped, smiled as she worked, her son at her side, his small hands mimicking her movements. "You've given us more than food," she said, her voice soft. "You've given us hope." Arin returned her smile, his heart swelling with gratitude, but his eyes caught a flicker of movement at the edge of the crowd. Torin, the skeptic who'd opposed him, slipped away with Vren and Mara, their whispers sharp with intent. Arin's stomach tightened—he knew Torin's fear of the Iron Fang ran deep, and fear could lead to betrayal.
Naya followed his gaze, her expression darkening. "We'll deal with them when we return," she said, her voice low. "For now, we focus on the grove." Arin nodded, though the unease lingered. They gathered their supplies—Naya's staff, a small pack of provisions, and the journal—and set out, the village's chants fading behind them as they ventured into the valley's depths.