SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS

Chapter 990: Show Your Intension!

At that moment, Manuka stood waist-deep in misty water, her hands coated in thin spiritual resin as she carefully extracted parasite moss from the roots of a Divine-Yin Orchid.

Her sharp features glistened with sweat, and her sleeves were soaked. Three assistants stood behind her with brushes, jade fans, and cleansing talismans.

“Don’t breathe loudly,” she warned without turning. “The orchid is reacting to noise. One stray breath, it withers.”

“Yes, Miss!” the assistants whispered in unison.

A faint breeze stirred the pond’s surface. The orchid trembled. Manuka narrowed her eyes and whispered an incantation. A spiritual barrier pulsed from her fingers, calming the orchid’s qi.

After half an incense stick of time, she finally stood up, wiping her hands.

Just then, an inner servant approached swiftly, stopping far beyond the pond’s edge.

“Lady Manuka!”

“Speak.”

“There’s… a man. In the outer yard. He dropped a bag of crystals. Asked for something called Crimson Veil Lotus. No one knows what that is. He… refused to leave.”

Manuka paused.

The assistants exchanged looks.

She turned slowly, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “Crimson Veil Lotus? Under moonlight?”

“Yes. Ancient spirit tongue, he said.”

A long silence.

Then a low laugh. “Interesting,” she muttered. “Who’s the man?”

“His name is… Phillip Salt.”

The name didn’t stir her emotion.

But the arrogance of the approach intrigued her.

“Prepare my boots,” she said. “And my vine belt.”

Within fifteen minutes, Manuka Lan stepped into the outer garden.

The traders bowed instantly. Even those unfamiliar with her face recognized the aura she carried.

The scent of living herbs clung to her like perfume.

Kent turned.

Their eyes met.

Hers: sharp, dark green, cool as jade.

His: calm, but burning beneath like a smothered fire.

“So,” she said without greeting, “You asked for something even I haven’t heard of.”

Kent gave a slight nod, unbothered by the arrogance in her voice. “So you must not know everything yet.”

Gasps sounded nearby.

She tilted her head. “You have quite a way with words. Do you even know what you’re asking for?”

“I wouldn’t pay triple if I didn’t,” Kent said, stepping forward. “I need a Crimson Veil Lotus. Spiritual moonlight. Three years.”

“Why?”

“That’s my concern.”

“Hmph,” she smirked. “So it is. And what if I told you it exists… but the price is not just crystals?”

Kent raised an eyebrow. “Then I’d say you know more than your staff.”

“I always do.”

For a moment, they stood silently in the garden, herbs swaying gently around them. The mana crystals glowed at their feet, a testament of wealth, or maybe a declaration of will.

Finally, she sighed. “Come with me. Let’s talk in the herb sanctuary.”

Kent nodded once.

As they walked side by side, servants parted like sea before a storm.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

“And next time,” she said, voice a whisper, “don’t drop money like an emperor buying respect. You’ll make too many enemies too quickly.”

“I’m not here to make friends,” Kent replied coolly. “Only progress.”

She chuckled.

“For your sake, I hope you understand what you’re asking for, Phillip Salt. The Crimson Veil Lotus… doesn’t grow. It chooses.”

He said nothing, but his gaze didn’t waver.

The herb garden closed behind them.

—

Inside the herb sanctuary,a dimly lit chamber layered in thick green glow from spirit-glass skylights, the scent of wild sage and burning jade roots hung thick in the air. Wooden pillars, carved with blooming vines, supported the curved ceiling above. Precious herbs—some whispering softly with sentient breath—lined the perimeter in glass cases, guarded by runic locks.

Manuka Lan led the way, her robes dragging just above the moss-coated stone floor. Behind her, Kent—or rather, Phillip Salt—followed with measured steps. His golden-lined robe shimmered with spiritual energy, but his expression was that of quiet interest.

She stopped before a large spiritwood table and motioned with a single glance for him to sit. He did.

“So,” she began, arms folded across her chest, “what do you truly want, Phillip Salt?”

Kent leaned slightly forward. “The Crimson Veil Lotus.”

She tilted her head, amused. “And if it doesn’t exist?”

“Then why are we having this conversation in a sealed sanctuary rather than the trading desk?”

Manuka narrowed her eyes. Clever.

“You’re not a common buyer. You knew exactly what herb to ask for. Not rare. Not extinct. But something that would reach me.”

Kent’s lips curled ever so slightly. “I’m flattered you noticed.”

She arched an eyebrow. “So this was bait?”

“It was an invitation, Lady Manuka.”

A beat of silence passed. Then laughter—short, clear, and sharp like silver bells.

“You’re bold. Most men try to impress me by praising my gardens or pretending to be poisoned just to see me work. You use a nonexistent herb.”

“It worked.”

She stepped around the table, gaze now more curious than wary. “I know your name is Phillip Salt, the so-called young master of a fading family. But you don’t behave like a minor noble.”

“Families fall and rise,” Kent replied. “But intentions? They don’t lie.”

She studied him. He didn’t flinch, didn’t avert his gaze. There was no hint of desire in his voice—only conviction. That made her pause.

“What do you know about herbs, Phillip Salt?”

“Enough to know the Crimson Veil Lotus isn’t real. But it could be.”

That caught her attention.

“Explain.”

Kent gestured to the shelf behind her, where five unique moonlight-fed herbs were stored. “Each of those contains partial properties similar to what the Crimson Veil Lotus should possess—if it existed. A herb that grows under moonlight, absorbs yin qi, and stabilizes soul fluctuations.”

Manuka blinked.

He continued, “Which means it’s not a herb—it’s a concept. A combination. A fusion. Something only a true herbal genius could theorize and grow.”

Realization flashed in her eyes. “You want me to grow it.”

“I want you to challenge yourself,” Kent said. “And in the process, perhaps take a second look at someone you dismissed as a spoiled heir.”

Manuka slowly sat down across from him, folding her hands on the table.

“So this wasn’t about herbs. This was about me.”

Kent shrugged. “It can be both.”

Silence grew thick between them.

Manuka’s fingers tapped against the table. “You’re dangerous. Not for your cultivation—but your mind. You set bait without lies. You walked into my domain not to take—but to provoke my curiosity.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “But don’t think that means I’m yours to win.”

Kent smirked. “Winning you is not the goal. Knowing you? That’s step one.”

Another silence—this time softer.

She stood up. “Fine. I will entertain your challenge. I will try to grow the herb you imagined. But in return, you owe me.”

Kent stood too. “Name it.”

Manuka stepped close, her voice a whisper. “Don’t try to seduce me with riddles and flowers again. If you wish to impress me, do it with deeds. If not—leave my garden.”

He gave a polite bow. “Then I look forward to returning with more than just imagination.”

As Kent turned to leave, Manuka watched him with a gaze both intrigued and cautious.

He wasn’t just another noble.

He was a player. A player who can make things happen.