100% DROP RATE : Why is My Inventory Always so Full? - Chapter 243

Chapter 243: Chapter 243 – Gather
Still… even as the thought of the Revenant Asphodel gnawed at the back of his mind, Lucien forced his breathing steady.

He doesn’t want his ambitions to derail the expedition.

Practical matters came first.

Eirene guided them along a safer terrace, one marked by gentler runes. The air here was calmer.

At the edge of a shallow, shimmering channel, Lucien spotted a patch of pale-blue blossoms. Each flower cradled a tiny bead of frozen breath in its center, like a pearl waiting to thaw.

Eirene lifted a hand toward the inscription beside them and read it aloud.

“Trade a waking hour for a sleeping cure.

Pluck one, and your body rests while your breath wanders.

But let another guard your slumber—

and you shall rise wholly restored.”

Marie’s eyes practically glowed.

“So it’s like… a free power nap with a full restore?” she whispered.

Lucien leveled a dry stare at her.

“Yes. A nap where your soul detaches itself to take a stroll through an ancient ruin constructed by an Eternal. What could possibly go wrong?”

Marie shrank an inch.

But the fascination in everyone’s eyes didn’t fade.

Even Lucien had to admit.

In a drawn-out campaign, a guaranteed, complete recovery… at the cost of temporary, controlled sleep… was a treasure armies would go to war for.

Further along the terrace, thick ropes of ivy climbed a stone archway. The leaves shimmered like glass catching breath.

Runes beside them pulsed.

“Bind this to a place,

and breath shall not escape it.

Bind this to a body,

and breath shall not depart it easily—

for good or ill.”

Lucien felt a chill.

Breathbound Ivy.

— Formation-grade material.

— Perfect for strengthening barriers, sealing chambers, preserving bodies, or trapping someone in a state where their breath… could not leave.

A treasure. A weapon. A prison.

Marie mouthed a silent woah.

Lucien forced his gaze away before greed crept too deep.

The Verdant Veil members gathered behind Eirene, hushed with tension.

One member whispered, “Leader… how much can we take?”

Eirene looked over the terraces…

Her fingers brushed the necklace on her neck.

Then she spoke,

“We take only what we can afford to pay for. Nothing more.”

The Celestial seniors nodded immediately with grim agreement in their eyes.

Lucien exhaled.

This place rewarded discipline, not hunger.

‘Greed and gardens rarely mix,’ he thought.

And Stillness gardens least of all.

•••

They began with the safest plants first.

Nobody dared to grab anything with bare hands.

Instead, they used carved tools like jade pincers, moonsteel knives, soft brushes, and anything that kept fingers away from the unpredictable temper of ancient flora grown under an Eternal’s will.

Their first attempt came from Lungmirror Moss.

Tiny strands were siphoned with slow motions. The moss reacted subtly. Its surface rippled in sync with the harvester’s breath, approving only when the rhythm remained calm.

A few steps away, the Stillroot Ferns swayed imperceptibly as single fronds were cut from designated points marked by Eirene.

She said that it was the least harmful place.

The garden answered every action.

When a Verdant Veil member reached too quickly toward a Chronoslumber Thistle—

shhk—

The thistle stiffened.

Its silver bud dimmed to a warning black.

And the air around the practitioner’s entire arm tightened like a vice.

Their limb went cold and heavy as if weight itself had been poured into their bones.

Eirene reacted instantly.

A sharp gesture. Stop.

The practitioner let go at once, pulling back, head bowed in respectful apology toward the plant.

Only then did the pressure recede.

Lucien quietly admired Eirene as she moved between terraces.

It wasn’t just technique. It was instinct.

Eirene was Floran by blood. Her lineage was tied to florae themselves.

The plants responded to her touch with subtle deference.

She wasn’t immune, the penalties still brushed against her, but she understood their temper. She knew when to slow, when to offer breath, and when to step back.

And to Lucien’s surprise…

While the group harvested one specimen at a time, Eirene had already harvested three.

All while keeping watch over everyone else.

Every penalty the garden imposed felt deliberate. Not cruelty but instruction. Not traps but negotiations.

The hand of the Eternal of Stillness was unmistakable.

Marie, unsurprisingly, made a beeline toward the Somnolent Veil Lotuses.

Lucien froze the moment she hovered too close.

“Marie,” Lucien called out to her.. “If you pluck that, I’m not spending hours watching your snoring face while your breath takes a vacation.”

Marie blinked.

“Luc, you really think I’m that dumb? I am just admiring.”

She glared, puffed her cheeks, but ultimately retreated.

Her interest shifted to a cluster of small buds nearby, harmless-looking.

Their runes read:

“Offer a calm breath,

And receive a brief restoration.

But Stillness shall claim your limbs for several minutes.”

Marie pointed at them.

Lucien nodded.

“Those, at least, won’t put you into a coma.”

She lit up like a lantern.

One by one, with measured breaths and slow movements, the group harvested what they can.

Around them, the garden’s other occupants worked with the same silent understanding.

No group intruded upon another.

Not just out of politeness, but also because every soul here understood one truth:

Conflict in a Stillness Garden invites consequences worse than any opponent.

•••

The Revenant Asphodel remained untouched.

No one dared go near it.

Yet Lucien’s gaze returned to it again and again… the strange thinning of the air around its petals and the way the silver soil beneath it pulsed faintly like buried veins of moonlight.

As he stared, Eirene walked past him. Her shoulder brushed his for only an instant but her voice arrived like a whisper placed directly into his ear.

“Brother Luc,” she murmured, “go and take the thing you need. I believe you can. But… be careful.”

She had already noticed exactly where his eyes had been drawn.

Lucien exhaled, watching his silver breath drift downward like a falling spark.

“I’ll go down for a minute,” he began. “I just want to take—”

Eirene cut him off with the faintest shake of her head.

“I trust you,” she said. “You don’t have to explain.”

Lucien nodded once, deeply.

Marie, watching from behind, followed his line of sight. For once, she said nothing snarky.

She understood too that Lucien seemed to be drawn on the flowers below.

Soon…

Lucien stepped forward.

The garden shifted with him.

The Scarlet Sect disciples looked up from tending to their sleeping comrade.

The Sskavyrn duo paused mid-harvest.

None interfered, but all eyes sharpened.

Every terrace he descended thinned the air further.

With each step closer to the central lake, his breath grew harder. Not because he was tired, but because something was taking it.

Stealing it.

He felt his exhale drift farther with each descent, pulled eagerly toward the lake of condensed breath.

Lucien held his breath.

His chest relaxed. His vision stayed sharp.

He was ready.

But just as he reached the final terrace… something changed.

The air shifted.

A presence pressed lightly like the closing of a book.

Lucien stopped.

Up above, the other practitioners froze.

A new group had arrived.

The mysterious robed faction stood at the top of the terrace.

Every other group stiffened immediately.

Hands hovered near weapons. Every eyes sharpened.

The Celestial-realm seniors subtly circulated their mana.

But Stillness hung heavily over the basin and everyone knew… any violence here would be answered by it.

So they did not move.

The robed group remained utterly still.

Then… the leader, the figure standing at their center, slowly turned his head as if looking for someone.

And the moment his gaze found Lucien…

His eyes lit up.

A quiet signal.

The robed group began to walk.

One step.

Then another.

Straight toward Lucien.

The Verdant Veil instinctively tightened their formation… but remained where they were.

Interference in this place would kill more than pride.

Lucien inhaled once.

He did not retreat.

He merely straightened and met the leader’s stare head-on.

They closed the distance.

And then…

They passed him.

Not stopping.

Just walked past him… straight toward the Revenant Asphodel.

Lucien’s eyes widened.

Then he moved.

He vaulted down the last steps…

…but the robed woman at the front reached the sacred bloom first.

Before Lucien could react, she plucked it.

The entire basin seemed to inhale.

The Scarlet Sect went pale. The Sskavyrn duo froze mid-motion. The Verdant Veil’s hearts stopped.

Lucien felt something cold seize his spine.

Because… nothing happened.

No withering. No penalty. No breath-stealing backlash.

The woman held the Revenant Asphodel delicately between her fingers, tilting her head with a mechanical curiosity as if examining something mundane rather than a resurrection herb older than empires.

The garden did not react.

Not even slightly.

Lucien stared, stunned.

Then—

The leader stepped directly in front of him.

The air stilled. Breath itself seemed to pause.

In an even voice, the leader said:

“I helped you pick this Revenant Asphodel. It is clear you need it.”

Silence weighed on the world.

The man continued,

“I will give it to you… but you must answer one question.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

“What question?”

The leader’s gaze brightened not with cruelty but with something like long-awaited confirmation.

Finally, he spoke…

“Tell me…”

A pause.

The world felt like it held its breath.

“…are you a human?”