Cultivation is Creation-Chapter 183: The Sacred Grove

The path to the shrine wound up through dense forest, each step taking us further from the village's comforting familiarity and into older, stranger territory. The trees here were ancient, their trunks wider than three people standing hand-to-hand, their branches reaching up into the sky.

"These trees..." Su Yue murmured, running her hand along one particularly massive trunk. "They're saturated with spiritual energy."

She wasn't wrong. I could feel it too: the way the spiritual energy had seeped into every fiber of wood, every leaf, every root. These weren't just old trees; they were trees that had been growing in the presence of concentrated spiritual energy for centuries.

"The Sacred Grove," I said, memories that weren't quite mine surfacing. "That's what the village elders called it. Children weren't allowed to play here: they said the trees would eat anyone who didn't show proper respect."

"Just stories to keep children from wandering into dangerous spiritual zones," one of the Heavenly Jade disciples scoffed. Ming Yue, I remembered: the practical one who'd asked about beast numbers earlier.

"Most stories have some truth to them," Liu Chang replied mildly. "Especially ones that survive for generations."

I nodded, more memories floating up from the original Ke Yin's childhood. "There used to be ceremonies here, before the last imperial dynasty. Local spirit mediums would come to commune with the forest spirits, make offerings for good harvests."

"Local superstition," another Heavenly Jade disciple muttered, but I noticed he kept well away from the trees anyway.

The grove's spiritual saturation grew stronger as we climbed, until even the air felt thick with it. It wasn't just ambient energy either: there was a pattern to it, a rhythm that reminded me of...

"Master," Azure's voice held a note of curiosity, "the spiritual flows here resemble formation work, but on a much larger scale than normal."

He was right. The more I paid attention, the more I could see it: the way spiritual energy moved through the grove wasn't random. It followed specific paths, creating loops and cycles that were absolutely artificial. Someone, or something, had been shaping the spiritual flows here for a very long time.

"This place is old," Yan Ziheng murmured, his formation-trained senses clearly picking up the same patterns I was. "Very old. These energy paths... they've been reinforcing themselves for centuries at least."

We emerged from the grove into a small clearing, and there it was: the shrine Chu Feng had mentioned. Though "shrine" might have been giving it too much credit. What remained was a roughly circular platform of stone, maybe thirty feet across, with the crumbling remains of what might have once been walls or columns around its edge.

The original structure had probably been impressive once, but now it was mostly rubble, with only a few partial walls still standing. Nature had reclaimed most of it: vines crawled over the stones, small trees grew between the fallen blocks, and a thick carpet of moss covered everything.

But the spiritual energy... that was something else entirely.

"It's strange," I said, crouching to examine the platform more closely. "The physical structure is in ruins, but the spiritual architecture is almost perfectly preserved."

"Spiritual architecture?" One of the Yan Clan disciples asked.

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I gestured at the patterns carved into the stone: barely visible under centuries of growth, but still there if you knew what to look for. "These aren't just decorative. They're formation anchors, but not like any I've seen before. The style is... ancient."

"How ancient?" Liu Chang asked, coming to look where I was pointing.

I traced one of the patterns with a finger, careful not to channel any qi into it when Yan Ziheng cut in. "Based on the design... pre-imperial, maybe?”

"Pre-imperial formations? Here?" Ming Yue sounded skeptical. "In a village this small?"

"Size doesn't always indicate importance," Liu Chang replied. "Many powerful cultivation sites were deliberately placed in remote locations."

He was right, of course. Most dangerous places often looked the most innocuous. A crumbling shrine in the middle of nowhere could be more significant than a mighty sect's fortress: it all depended on what secrets it held.

Speaking of secrets...

I watched Chu Feng carefully as we examined the shrine. He was staying back, letting others take the lead in the investigation. His earlier desperate urgency to check this place out had completely vanished, replaced by a casualness that felt just as artificial as his usual nervous energy.

"The qi disruption patterns you mentioned," Liu Chang said to him. "Where exactly did you notice them?"

"Oh, uh, they seemed strongest near the center," Chu Feng replied, gesturing vaguely toward the middle of the platform. "But they might have dissipated by now. Qi patterns can be pretty unstable..."

I moved to the center of the platform, channeling a small amount of qi to enhance my spiritual perception. The formation patterns here were definitely more complex, forming concentric circles that spiraled inward toward...

"There's something odd about this spot," I said, kneeling to brush away some moss. More carving underneath, but these weren't formation patterns. They were words, in a script so old, had it not been for the system, I wouldn’t have a chance at understanding it.

"Can you read it?" Liu Chang asked.

“Only fragments. Something about ‘sleep’, 'cycles', and 'renewal,' I think. The rest is too worn to make out."

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"Master," Azure said, "the spiritual resonance here... it reminds me of something, but I can't quite place it."

I knew what he meant. There was something familiar about the energy patterns, like a word on the tip of your tongue that you just couldn't quite remember. It wasn't threatening, exactly, but it definitely wasn't normal either.

The other teams spread out, examining different parts of the shrine. The Heavenly Jade disciples focused on the remaining walls, while the Yan Clan team seemed more interested in the surrounding area. Our Azure Peak members were methodically checking every corner of the platform.

I watched them work while sorting through more of the original Ke Yin's memories about this place. They were... interesting. The shrine hadn't been completely abandoned, even after the imperial government officially banned local spirit worship. People still came here sometimes, usually at night, usually in secret.

They'd leave small offerings: food, wine, incense. Not for any specific deity or spirit, but for the place itself. Because sometimes, if you came at just the right moment, with just the right offering...

"The villagers still use this place," I said quietly to Liu Chang. "Not officially, but... there are stories. About people finding exactly what they needed after making offerings here. Lost items turning up, sick relatives recovering, that sort of thing."

"Superstition," Ming Yue said dismissively. "Or coincidence at best."

"Maybe," I replied. "But I remember..." I paused, carefully phrasing it as if I was recalling my own memories rather than someone else's. "When I was young, there was a drought. The crops were failing. The village elder came up here one night, made an offering. The next day it rained. Not a normal rain either: it fell in exactly the pattern needed to save the most important fields."

"One coincidence doesn't prove anything," she argued, but I noticed she was looking at the shrine with more interest now.

"No," I agreed. "But it wasn't just once. Every few years, something would happen. Small things usually, but... consistent. Reliable enough that people kept coming back, kept making offerings, even when the imperial authorities said they shouldn't."

Liu Chang nodded thoughtfully. "Local power spots like this... they often develop their own patterns over time. The spiritual energy builds up, creates cycles and rhythms that respond to certain actions."

"Like a formation that builds itself?" Yan Ziheng asked, curiosity clear in his voice.

"Something like that," Liu Chang replied. "Though usually less structured than a formation. More... organic."

I stood up, brushing dirt from my robes.

We'd been examining the shrine for almost an hour now, and I was becoming increasingly certain we weren't going to find anything significant. Not because there was nothing to find: the spiritual patterns here were definitely unusual: but because whatever Chu Feng had originally sensed (or claimed to sense) wasn't active right now.

And speaking of Chu Feng...

I watched him carefully as the investigation wound down. He was doing a good job of looking frustrated and disappointed.

"We should head back," Liu Chang finally said. "The beast wave won't wait while we investigate old ruins."

"Maybe we should have checked this place when I first mentioned it," Chu Feng mumbled, frustration clear in his voice. "Whatever was causing those qi disruptions might have still been active then."

"We followed proper protocol," Liu Chang replied calmly. "The village's safety had to be our first priority."

"Protocol," Chu Feng spat the word like it tasted bad. "Sometimes protocol gets people killed."

That... was actually a fair point. Even if he was acting, he wasn't wrong about the potential dangers of rigid adherence to rules. But something about the way he said it caught my attention. There was real emotion there, real bitterness. Whatever game he was playing, it had personal stakes for him.

The teams began heading back down the path, leaving me alone for a moment with the ancient shrine. I looked at it one last time, trying to memorize the formation patterns I could see. They might be worth studying later.

"Master," Azure's voice held a note of warning, "Chu Feng is watching you."

I turned slightly, catching Chu Feng quickly looking away. He'd paused at the edge of the clearing, ostensibly to retie his boot, but his position gave him a clear view of me.

Interesting. Very interesting.

As we made our way back down through the Sacred Grove, I found myself wondering if I was being too paranoid. Maybe Chu Feng really had sensed something here and was just genuinely disappointed we hadn't found it. Maybe his nervous behavior was just... who he was, not an act hiding something darker.

After all, cultivation could do strange things to a person's personality. Spend enough time manipulating the fundamental forces of reality, and you're bound to pick up some eccentricities.

Look at any alchemy elder: half of them talked to their cauldrons like they were pets, and the other half insisted on doing everything in patterns of nine because it was "numerologically auspicious."

Being weird wasn't the same as being suspicious. Being inconsistent wasn't the same as being threatening.

Maybe Chu Feng was exactly what he appeared to be: an eccentric cultivator with trust issues and a complicated past. Heaven knew there were enough of those in any sect.

But...

"You’re still skeptical of him," Azure noted dryly.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only to someone who can literally monitor your vital signs."

I smiled slightly.

The trees thinned out as we descended, the spiritual pressure easing as we left the Sacred Grove behind. Ahead, I could see the village coming into view: familiar buildings, comfortable sights, the kind of normal life that seemed impossibly fragile when you knew what was coming toward it.

Thousands of spirit beasts, driven by some unknown force into a frenzy of movement and destruction. A dozen or more high-stage beasts capable of leveling buildings with a single strike. And us: a handful of cultivators trying to stand between them and a village full of innocent people.

People who included my family. Well, the original Ke Yin's family, but they were mine now too, weren't they? I'd accepted that earlier, standing in front of their shop. Their safety, their protection: that was my responsibility now.

The village was preparing for evacuation when we returned: people gathering essential belongings, securing livestock, making sure the very young and very old were ready to move to the designated shelter caves in the mountains.

They'd done this before. Beast waves weren't common, but they weren't rare enough for people to have forgotten the procedures. Every child grew up learning the evacuation routes, every family had a pack of emergency supplies ready, every household knew exactly what to take and what to leave behind.

It was the kind of preparation that spoke of generations of hard-learned lessons. The kind that reminded you that for all our cultivation and spiritual powers, we weren't really protecting these people from the dangers of the world. We were just giving them a slightly better chance of surviving them.

"The defenses are ready," Su Yue reported as we reached the village center. "Steam barriers are charged, formation arrays are active. Now we just have to wait."

Waiting. Always the hardest part of any battle.

I looked back toward the mountain where the shrine stood, barely visible now through the evening haze. Whatever secrets it held, whatever Chu Feng's true motives were, they would have to wait. We had more immediate concerns.

A beast wave was coming. And whether Chu Feng was friend, foe, or just another eccentric cultivator, we'd all have to work together to survive it.

But that didn't mean I had to trust him. After all, a healthy dose of paranoia was just another survival tool. Like a storage ring or a spiritual weapon, except this one didn't take up any space and never ran out of power.

And right now, my paranoia was working overtime.

After all, what was the worst that could happen? Either I was right about Chu Feng and my paranoia would help us survive whatever he was planning, or I was wrong and would spend the entire beast wave suspiciously watching a perfectly innocent but eccentric cultivator.

Given the alternatives, I could live with being wrong.

Assuming, of course, that we all lived through the next few days at all.