Chapter 28 ~ A Sea of Flowers and the Heart’s Field
The chirping of a yellow oriole sang a swan’s eulogy through an empty valley, as sorrowful as a midnight orchid, yet as soothing as a warm shower, smoothing the land’s many wounds and healing hearts broken into pieces. This was much like fresh green buds growing over crumbled ruins, bringing springtime vitality back to an ailing world.
The soft, honeyed tones of the voice sounded like a drop of dew into a clear-spring pond, rippling the waters with emerald waves.
Pure and pristine, without blemish, the hymn caused shimmering ripples in everyone’s hearts, embedding itself into their souls. It cleansed impurities and blemishes, polishing the metaphorical window of their hearts to sparkling clarity.
The elf girl shared her innocent heart through song, her soul-penetrating voice touching every single person present, making them feel as if they stood amidst a lush shrubbery forest, gazing up at a cloudless azure sky while being surrounded by a sea of fallen blossoms.
As butterflies danced and rare creatures hid in the woods, all living things harmoniously coexisted in a flourishing paradise.
And no, this was no illusion—it was a reflection of the elf girl’s heart.
Elves were a species created from the essence of Mother Forest and Life, their existence meant to be as pure and clean as this land untarnished by sin or human corruption, akin to a hidden utopia.
Even the darkest, the cruellest, the most ruthless hearts brought here would lose their malice and be entranced by the dreamlike visions of paradise.
This, however, wasn’t mere trickery. Unlike illusions that yank people into false realities with brute force, this was empathy.
Using her heart as a blueprint, the elf girl resonated on a level that reached into the depths of everyone’s soul. If any good or a glimmer of hope still resided within them, this resonance would draw it out, magnify it, and create a collective moment of understanding among all present.
Not every elf could accomplish such a feat. Only the truly pure, unaffected by the taints of the mortal world, could wield such resonating power.
Tillysha’s singing voice wasn’t loud, but Yimi could hear it. This was because Tillysha’s empathetic waves had reached into Yimi’s soul, allowing her to listen to the melody of her spirit.
Through this bond, Tillysha’s heart had planted a flower within the hearts of those gathered, soothing the restless emotions of the怨念集合体 (Collective of Grievance). Bit by bit, the destructive fury and jealousy towards all living things were being placated.
This was not brute force—rather, the sea of flowers calmed their turbulent despair while healing their broken, scarred hearts.
The Collective of Grievance lost its aggressive edge, settling into a serene state that weakened the fundamental grudges and desires that maintained its existence, causing it to lose its form.
“Shattered old dreams, a garden of independence from the world, evening winds of the courtyard raising the silent swings, cloud seas bearing swan’s tears…”
“She has listened to your cries.”
“She has touched your sorrows.”
“She has accepted all your being.”
“Recollections of autumn’s color, a crying swan…” Tillysha softly recited.
Her sacred chanting, pure and innocent like a lullaby, was incomprehensible to the soldiers of the Empire, who knew not the elvish tongue, yet they were swept up in its tidal waves of emotion and understood its meaning.
Many soldiers felt a deep shame, their lewd thoughts towards Tillysha earlier now burning in their chests with guilt. In this holy field of flowers, they felt like nothing more than bundles of filth, their presence itself a contaminant of this sanctified expanse.
Yimi watched, lost in thought, as Tillysha embraced the Collective of Grievance, singing them a hymn. At this moment, Yimi knew for sure that Tillysha could not be the catalyst of whichever tragedy everyone spoke of.
As a fellow elf, Yimi understood how a soul this immaculate could not produce the heinous deeds attributed to the girl.
What then?…
Upon further reflection, Yimi realized her memory was indeed problematic.
Why had all her recollections faded with time, save this one that still remained vivid and clear? As if it existed deliberately, to be etched within her mind.
With the lullaby’s end, bidding farewell to dew and tears of swans, the Collective of Grievance’s form crumbled entirely.
Enveloped by Tillysha, her white-gold locks shimmered in the sunset’s glow, radiant and elegant. Her warm, smooth body provided a temperature of serene calm, and within the sacred and pure field of flowers, the Collective lost all urges to destroy.
As if returning to a mother’s embrace, lying in a cradle while hearing a tranquil melody, their forms shrank. Twisted expressions smoothed into ones of tired relaxation, from the size of a person to that of a child, and finally, they were reduced to a palm-sized glob of sludge.
“You’ve suffered too much.” With her final prayer, Tillysha opened her closed eyes, bending down gracefully. A flower bud lay gently in her palm.
“Could you… rest now?”
The sludge quivered slightly, with no answer.
Tillysha sighed lightly.
She wasn’t going to force them. If these resentments insisted on continuing this endless cycle, there was nothing she could do.
Or, perhaps, her ability was limited, unable to awaken the last shred of goodness these resentments might harbor.
Just as she thought this, the sludge suddenly writhed, splashing into the flower bud and merging with it. The bud swayed gently, a faint gleam flickering before it returned to stillness.
All around, the ruins seemed untouched, as if nothing had happened.
“… Thank you.” Tillysha closed her eyes slightly, bowing her head to express her soft gratitude.
Looking at the flower in her hand, soon it would take root again and bloom fruit right here.
Still, this flower was a restoration, not an original. Its structure might not be as sturdy as the previous version, and its capacity far smaller than the original Corpse Flower.
Truth be told, Tillysha wasn’t sure about what she was doing now.
Empathy made others resonate with her heart, but she would also perceive others’ inner worlds.
For instance, the guilt from the Empire soldiers’ inappropriate thoughts earlier, the grievances and hatreds of the resentments—she could feel all of it.
For a moment, she even thought this rotten-to-the-core kingdom might be better off destroyed. But reason quickly intervened.
If the Empire fell, the rule of law would completely vanish, and the land would descend into a state of warlord divisions. The people would endure even more suffering.
And what about the countless innocent families? What wrong had they done? All they wanted was to survive.
Allowing resentments to fester would merely lead to more tragedy and hatred.
Yet Tillysha understood that even amidst the despair, there was a flicker of longing for kindness and a hopeful future—a flicker she guided to the fore. Without that, her empathy would not have succeeded.
With the matter settled, Yimi stepped forward. Her clothes, not bound by any magical protection, were now tattered after the battle. The dress Tillysha bought her was severely damaged, its hem torn and its upper portion riddled with holes. The white stockings covering her feet were full of perforations, leaving her looking like a battle-damaged doll.
Still, an elf is an elf. Even in rags with a little dirt on her face, her beauty remained untarnished, even gaining an added allure.
Seeing Tillysha gripping the flower bud, lost in deep thought as she watched the fading sun, Yimi refrained from disturbing her, standing silently by her side.
She, too, could sense the sorrow imprisoned in the flower. Closing her eyes, she could still hear their heart-wrenching cries.
Were the gray elves of the past also consumed by such despair? Did they, too, in endless cycles of pain, give rise to grudges and resentments?
Were the elves who transformed into the Demon Race standing against her with the same emotions?
Tillysha wondered, but there was no answer, nor any savior jumping out to enlighten her.
Only that memory, still beyond her grasp.
Thus, she had to investigate herself, seeking out the truths of the past, searching… for that gray elf girl…
As Tillysha pondered, Yimi waited, but the scene wasn’t static. After sealing the Collective of Grievance, Tillysha fell silent, and the soldiers of the Empire grew restless.
Gran organized those less injured to care for the wounded, though casualties were few. Those touched by poison flames were struck down instantly. Still, he reserved half his men to care for those only brushed by the flames.
Reflecting on the situation, one couldn’t help but marvel at the fragility of humans in the face of such power. A mere breeze could wipe them out by the dozens.
After assigning the post-battle tasks, Gran approached Tillysha with two bodyguards, taking measured, deliberately loud steps so he wouldn’t surprise her.
“May I inquire, esteemed miss, what might be your name?” Yet, upon arriving, both golden-haired beings ignored him completely, acting as though he weren’t even there. Gran, feeling a bit awkward, opted to initiate conversation.
“My surname is Galinorine.” Tillysha opted not to use her true name.
“Understood. Then, might I address you as Miss Galinorine?” Gran tested carefully.
“Affirmative.” Tillysha nodded calmly before finally shifting her gaze to him.
Gran, caught under her direct stare, internally trembled. Scholars usually didn’t pay much attention to their appearance, and Gran, usually a slob, suddenly felt compelled to straighten his clothes—not wanting to appear unrespectable before such a dignified young lady.
The least he could do was look halfway decent; it was only polite.
“Miss, you need not communicate in the elvish tongue with me. I understand the common tongue.” Just as Gran was about to continue, Tillysha spoke with a polite, honeyed smile, shifting to the common language.
“Ah, oh! Of course, my apologies.” Gran scratched his head awkwardly, abandoning his atrocious attempts at elven speech.
While he did study elven speech occasionally, its difficulty coupled with his busy schedule only enabled him to grasp parts. Never having spoken to a real elf, his pronunciation was butchered. To Tillysha, it sounded comparable to a gray elf speaking elvish with a strong regional dialect.
“Miss Galinorine, thank you immensely for coming to our aid; this was originally a duty of our Empire’s soldiers.” Gran bowed deeply in gratitude.
Yimi gave him a side-eye glance, uninterested.
You realized it was your duty too late, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you handle your own problems?
“There’s no need for formalities. We share a common goal, and you’ve already helped a great deal, sacrificing many soldiers.”
“Regarding this, I’ll make sure everything is handled appropriately.” Gran sighed, shaking his head. “Protecting and defending our homeland is our obligation. In war, loss of life is unavoidable.”
The aftermath—compensation for families—he would personally ensure. Not only that, his division had a strict rule: every soldier’s d*ath must be personally addressed by the commanding officer to their families, offering an apology and support.
This was why their soldiers fought with fierce loyalty, unlike other divisions that fell apart in the face of adversity, morale utterly crumbling.
“You’re a commendable Imperial soldier,” Tillysha praised sincerely in her sweet tone—not just through observation, but through empathy, sensing the weight and regret in Gran’s spirit.
This was something no one could feign—not from a true elf.
“Here. You may take this flower with my trust.” Tillysha handed over the flower bud.
“What is this?” Gran frowned slightly, clearly recalling how Tillysha had used the flower to contain the sludge earlier.
“This flower serves as a vessel to contain the negative emotions of your people, previously compromised.” Softly, she placed it in his hands. “I’ve restored it, though only by mimicry. Its capacity to carry grievances or how long it can hold out remains uncertain.”
“Grievances??”
“People’s resentment and hatred never truly vanish. Something absorbs and stores these feelings, making it seem like they’ve disappeared.” Tillysha explained.
“Yet even the most magnificent dam can overflow and collapse under too much pressure. Act wisely.”
“My suggestion is to place it in an uninhabited area, safe from damage or further trouble.” With all explained, Tillysha left it to Gran to digest.
Tillysha turned around with Yimi in tow.
Never underestimate the learning capabilities of a Male. Regarding the Corpse Flower, this brief explanation was far from comprehensive. But for a Male, it was sufficient.
