“Reborn with the Violet Bloom”

Chapter : 9 Reborn with the living spirit seed

Ethan Vale hadn’t expected this result.

When he carefully examined the lingering energy within Sylphseed’s core, he realized that nearly half of the medicinal essence remained unused. It wasn’t simply a trace or residue—it was a substantial reserve, more than enough to sustain the small plant-spirit until the following day.

For a moment, Ethan frowned.

Then he understood.

Sylphseed itself seemed almost proud.

After consuming its fill, the tiny creature drifted restlessly within Ethan’s spiritual center, its translucent leaves quivering with excitement. It bounced lightly against the boundaries of his awareness, as if urging him to continue practicing Petal Detonation without delay.

“That’s enough,” Ethan said quietly.

The plant-spirit froze, then wobbled in protest.

Ignoring Sylphseed’s enthusiasm, Ethan withdrew his attention from it and turned inward. His breathing slowed, steady and controlled. With a subtle movement of his fingers, nine golden needles appeared before him, suspended in midair.

They hummed softly.

Each needle radiated restrained power, their surfaces etched with faint, intricate patterns that pulsed in rhythm with Ethan’s heartbeat.

One by one, he guided them into position.

This time, he wasn’t chasing rapid advancement.

He was chasing precision.

Beyond the body’s natural circulation lay several deeper energy pathways—hidden routes that only revealed themselves under extreme focus. These pathways weren’t meant to be forced open recklessly. Doing so would invite disaster.

So far, Ethan had already stabilized three of them: Life River, Sky Spine, and Origin Cross.

Today, his attention settled on two more.

Shadow Veil.

Dawn Veil.

In theory, the Nine-Cycle Aureate Needles could tear through every pathway in a single day. That was their terrifying reputation. But Ethan knew better than to trust theory alone.

Though his body had recently been reinforced by the Titan Flesh and Bone Elixir, it still lacked the resilience of one shaped by years of gradual training. If he pushed too far, too fast, the surge of internal pressure could tear his internal structure apart from the inside.

Ethan wasn’t reckless.

Slow progress wasn’t weakness.

It was survival.

As the needles settled into place, he guided the released energy carefully, allowing it to flow in measured waves. Each pulse was absorbed, refined, and distributed evenly. His internal structure responded, adapting little by little.

The sensation was subtle—but unmistakable.

Strength.

Not explosive.

Not overwhelming.

Just… steady.

By the time the final pulse settled, Ethan exhaled slowly. The needles dissolved into light and vanished.

Another step forward.

Under the quiet eaves of the courtyard, life continued.

Lina Ward sat before a thick wooden stump, her posture relaxed yet attentive. A rough block of timber rested atop the stump, its surface already marked with faint guidelines.

In her hand, a small carving blade flickered with quiet elegance.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Each movement was deliberate. Each cut was clean. Pale curls of wood drifted to the ground, gathering at her feet like fallen petals.

Lina didn’t rush.

She never did.

In the past, worry had ruled her days. Ethan’s fragile condition, the uncertainty of tomorrow, the weight of responsibility—each had gnawed at her focus. Even when her hands moved, her thoughts had been elsewhere.

Now, things were different.

Ethan was stronger.

Healthier.

Alive in a way he hadn’t been before.

With her former work gone and her mind finally unburdened, Lina found herself sinking fully into the rhythm of her craft.

Her lips pressed together slightly in concentration. Her dark eyes followed the blade’s path without wavering.

Gradually, a figure emerged from the wood.

Calm.

Dignified.

Commanding.

Then—something felt wrong.

The familiar presence behind her had shifted.

The faint rhythm of controlled breathing, the almost imperceptible pressure that accompanied Ethan’s training—it had gone silent.

Lina hesitated.

Curiosity won out.

She glanced up.

And froze.

Ethan stood several steps away, his upper body uncovered. Golden needles hovered across his skin, faint light pulsing beneath the surface as if his body itself were responding to some unseen rhythm.

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

She turned her gaze away instantly.

I shouldn’t be staring.

Her hand faltered.

“Ouch!”

Pain flared sharply as the blade slipped.

A thin line of red welled along her finger.

Blood dripped onto the stump.

“Lina?”

Ethan’s voice came immediately.

Before she could reply, he was already beside her. His movements were smooth, unhurried, yet unmistakably fast.

He gently took her hand.

“You’re hurt,” he said calmly. “Hold still.”

“I—it’s nothing,” Lina tried to say, but her voice caught.

She instinctively pulled back, but his grip was careful, reassuring rather than firm.

A single slender needle appeared between his fingers, glowing softly with emerald-tinted light.

She barely felt it touch her skin.

Warmth spread outward.

The bleeding slowed.

Then stopped entirely.

Lina stared, stunned.

The pain faded, replaced by a soothing sensation that lingered like the afterglow of sunlight.

Ethan withdrew the needle.

“That should do it,” he said. “It’ll heal quickly.”

“Oh… alright,” Lina replied softly.

Then she hesitated, worry creeping in.

“Did I interrupt you?” she asked. “Your training, I mean.”

Ethan smiled faintly.

“No. I was finished anyway.”

He paused, then added casually, “I made some progress.”

Her eyes widened. “Already?”

Before she could say more, she realized how close they were standing. Heat rushed back to her face. She gently pulled her hand free and stood.

“I’ll start dinner,” she said quickly.

Ethan watched her retreat into the house, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Left alone, he turned back to the stump.

The carving caught his eye.

He crouched beside it, studying the unfinished figure.

And froze.

Even incomplete, the figure carried a presence that was impossible to ignore. Calm authority radiated from its posture, its expression firm yet restrained.

Ethan recognized it instantly.

Arcturus Vale.

A legendary sovereign from the ancient Aurelian Empire.

Someone Ethan had only encountered in historical records during his previous life.

Yet here he was—reborn in wood.

Ethan exhaled slowly.

He had underestimated Lina’s talent.

True craftsmanship wasn’t something that could be learned through effort alone. It required instinct, intuition, and an understanding deeper than technique.

Lina possessed that rare gift.

Night settled over Jadefall City.

The streets grew quiet. Lanterns flickered to life, their light reflected in the stone paths below.

Later, by candlelight, Ethan sat upright on the bed.

“Sylphseed,” he thought calmly, “you’re overflowing with energy. Resting this long seems unnecessary.”

The small spirit responded by rolling dramatically within his core, radiating exaggerated indignation.

Ethan smiled.

He understood.

Rest wasn’t idleness.

It was growth.

As the spirit matured, the delay between manifestations would shorten. One day, it might respond instantly to his call.

“How long?” he asked.

“One minute,” came the sulky reply.

Ethan inhaled slowly.

He opened the prepared medicine packets beside him. His gaze lingered on one ingredient in particular—the Silkglow Fragrance Root.

Then—

Bang!

The calm of the early morning shattered.

The front door burst open.

Heavy footsteps stormed inside.

Shouts echoed through the house.

Ethan’s eyes snapped open.

His body tensed.

Trouble had arrived.

And it wasn’t alone.