100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? - Chapter 242

Chapter 242: Chapter 242 – Flora
When the last of them stepped off the bridge of motes, the silver lights unraveled behind them like a river folding back into its source… drifting down into the abyss until the darkness consumed the final spark.

The path of breath vanished.

Ahead, the ruin finally revealed its true garden.

They had passed through an entrance before. An imitation garden sculpted from sand, memories, and breath-constructs.

This was different.

This was alive.

The chamber was no longer a circle but a vast basin, like a hidden valley carved beneath the world. Terraced slopes curved downward, layer after layer. Each was ringed with pale stone and rooted in shimmering silver soil that pulsed gently like the earth itself inhaling and exhaling.

And everywhere—

Flora. Real flora.

Not the kind birthed by sunlight or seasons, but things that could only exist in a place where an Eternal’s will seeped into the roots.

The Verdant Veil group froze, their awe unmasked. Everything in front of them was out of the ordinary.

Trees with translucent trunks swayed subtly. Their leaves were made of layered breath-vapor, solid enough to touch yet half-transparent.

Vines threaded across terraces. Their blossoms were opening and closing in rhythm with the ambient Stillness like lungs breathing.

Moss carpets glowed faintly whenever the group exhaled, reacting to each breath as if tasting their vitality.

A thin, pale mist rose from the valley’s center. It’s a wide, shimmering reservoir.

Except… it wasn’t water.

It was condensed breath and thick mana, liquefied and pooled into a moonlit lake that fed channels running down the terraces.

Then—

they all halted at once.

Because nestled among the terraces were plants that made even Celestial-realm seniors stiffen.

Lucien’s eyes glowed as he activated INSPECT silently.

What he saw nearly stopped his heart.

A cluster of Somnolent Veil Lotuses — when refined, these spheres can induce deep meditative sleep or stabilize mana deviation… but touching one directly drains your stamina and puts you to sleep.

A patch of Lungmirror Moss — used by high-tier alchemists to diagnose internal injuries, especially lung or mana vessel damage… but if someone with irregular breathing steps on it, it mimics the irregularity and amplifies it.

Tall stalks of Stillroot Ferns — one shaved leaf can halt poison circulation instantly… but touching a frond without control risks slicing threads of your mana flow.

Every plant radiated age… centuries, perhaps millennia of cultivation under a single unchanging will.

Eirene stepped forward, eyes widening.

“These appear… exactly as written in the Eternal’s notes,” she whispered. “Everything here has purpose. Even the soil.”

Lucien bent forward, scraping his glove across the earth.

Silver Soil (Silverslumber Loam)

— Known to accelerate plant absorption of moonlight essences, excellent for pill-grade herbs.

— Prolonged exposure dulls the mind. Practitioners can fall unconscious if they meditate too close.

Marie pointed at the reservoir.

“What about the lake? It looks like moon juice. Can we drink it?”

Lucien jolted.

“—NO.”

He inspected.

Moonbreath Reservoir (Liquid Breath Essence)

— Not drinkable.

— When refined with heatless methods, it becomes a stabilizing agent for high-grade pills.

— Direct contact paralyzes the lungs for several minutes.

Marie retracted her finger.

“…okay.”

Eirene’s voice dropped slightly.

“All of these… are ancient. Some of them are extinct outside.”

Marie swayed, mesmerized.

“So this place is like the Eternal’s ten-thousand-year greenhouse?”

Lucien almost said yes… until he noticed movement.

A few terraces below, partially concealed behind a thicket of Somnolent Veil Lotuses…

Figures lay slumped across the silver soil.

Recognizable ones.

The Scarlet Sect disciples.

Eirene’s steps slowed. Lucien’s brows rose. Marie let out a silent gasp.

They had expected other factions to reach this depth eventually.

But the sight that greeted Lucien’s group was… unexpectedly comical.

Raven, one of the contenders Lucien had faced in the trial… lay flat on his back.

His limbs were sprawled and his mouth was parted in an embarrassingly peaceful expression. His chest rose and fell with the unmistakable rhythm of someone enjoying the best nap of his life.

Ten Scarlet Sect disciples gathered helplessly around their unconscious junior.

And then—

He sleep-talked.

“Senior sister… so you finally learned how to apologize… hehe. Serves you right.”

SLAP.

His senior sister smacked his cheek again and again. Each strike echoed in the breath-heavy quiet.

“RAVEN! Wake up! WAKE UP! YOU ABSURDLY TALENTED IDIOT—GET—UP!”

Raven didn’t even twitch.

His lips curved into a happy little smile.

Marie choked on a laugh.

Eirene murmured,

“He picked a plant.”

Lucien glanced around.

Right on cue, he spotted it.

A Somnolent Veil Lotus nearby was missing a core bead, one empty socket among the pulsing lights.

Beneath it, the silver soil bore the imprint of a hand and the faint outline of collapsed knees.

Eirene lifted her hand, signaling the Verdant Veil to hold where they were.

Her gaze swept the scene.

“One petal from those lotuses,” Lucien murmured, “and your breath sleeps with it. He’ll wake… eventually.”

Marie muttered… way too loudly,

“Or if he doesn’t, they can use him as fertilizer.”

Every Scarlet Sect disciple within earshot snapped their heads toward her.

Marie froze. Then slowly hid behind Lucien like a guilty child.

“I was kidding! No offense intended!”

Lucien dragged a palm down his face.

Farther down the terraces, two other figures moved with deliberate effort.

Two familiar silhouettes with dark scales and lean, predatory grace.

The two Sskavyrn spear prodigy warriors.

Marie whispered,

“Wow… they successfully picked those lotuses!”

Eirene nodded, her voice quiet.

“The Sskavyrn Race is famed for their stamina… and their ability to hold their breath for long periods. This garden would favor them.”

Lucien smirked softly.

“This place is practically their home turf.”

Even so, the Sskavyrn were cautious. They took only one lotus each. Their movements were slow and their tails coiled for balance as if the plants might retaliate.

The Verdant Veil finally understood the deeper truth.

This place wasn’t merely a botanical paradise.

It was a crucible.

A test of restraint. A trap for the impulsive. A grave for the solitary.

Just then, Lucien saw the runes etched into the stone beside the lotus bed and he spelled it out to the group clearly:

“Take a blossom of sleeping breath,

And your own shall sleep in kind.

Only the willing breath of another

May call it back.”

Marie’s expression sobered.

“So if you come here alone and pick one…”

“You never wake, I guess?” Lucien finished. “It’s a blessing we move as a group.

If someone came alone… one mistake… and this place would lull them into eternal sleep.”

Eirene nodded.

“And if no one wakes you… you don’t leave this garden.”

She glanced at Raven’s peaceful smile.

“…you become part of it.”

Marie swallowed hard, loud enough that even the moss quivered.

One of the Sskavyrn practitioners noticed them and gave a terse nod.

“Don’t come down here without someone you trust,” he mouthed.

Lucien nodded back with a smile.

He hadn’t expected advice from them… but respect was respect.

These ruins made unlikely allies.

His gaze then drifted over the terraces again.

The longer he looked, the more treasures he saw.

Clusters of Chronoslumber Thistles

— silver thorns trapped slivers of time in their buds. It is a perfect ingredient for delay or stasis-based techniques.

Stalks of Heartmurmur Reeds

— their hollow stems hummed softly when a breath passed through. It is ideal for sound-concealing formations.

And then—

His mind went blank for a heartbeat.

Nestled deep on the lowest terrace, half-surrounded by Lungmirror Moss, were blooms unlike the others.

Flowers with two layers of petals.

The black outer petals were dark as ink like it had forgotten the meaning of light.

The golden inner petals were not bright but soft, like dawn pushing through a closed curtain.

Between the layers, a faint haze pulsed.

The rune beside it pulsed gently.

Lucien read it in a breath.

“When flesh is gone but will remains,

When breath is scattered but name endures,

Offer sleep to claim return.”

He used INSPECT.

Revenant Asphodel (A.K.A. The Flower of Returning Paths)

— A rare resurrection herb said to regenerate damaged souls or bodies… rumored lost for ten millennia.

Lucien’s pulse stuttered.

“Mother… Father… I found it…”

He saw, clear as day, the path this herb could open.

But the penalty written beneath the rune was simple and cold.

“Pluck, and your vitality withers.

What you return, you must first lose.”

He knew… Only someone who can resist conceptual withering can take it.

Marie noticed Lucien’s trembling fingers.

“Luc…?”

He didn’t answer.

But his eyes said everything.

He was already planning.

Already imagining how to steal life back from death itself.

Even if the garden demanded a price.