The Eternal Flower Surrenders

Murderous intent was being absorbed. The vast killing will of countless flowers—each one possessed of intellect and spiritual power, numbers beyond reckoning—surged toward the invader rather than any prey. And all of it was swallowed whole by the slaughter energy pouring from a single cultivator's body.

Flowers that had grown by devouring spiritual power, by draining vitality itself, by consuming cultivators—those same flowers were now the prey, vanishing into the slaughter energy in an instant.

Mount Hwasan was a place that, lacking any means of physical attack, instead swallowed spiritual power outright—a forbidden ground that could devour even a cultivator who had achieved a golden core. And that mountain was losing to someone who was, at best, late-stage Foundation Establishment.

Watching that incomprehensible spectacle, the flower that had grown by swallowing golden-core fragments of cultivators who had failed their tribulations on this mountain centuries ago thought:

What the fuck. Does that even make sense?

"M-my paradise…!"

But it could not move. The moment that cultivator had appeared, a Killing Star had locked onto it from the sky above with terrifying force, crushing it in place.

This was no ordinary flower. It had endured tribulations for centuries and cultivated a paradise of its own—and in its gaze, that red star in the heavens was no mere celestial body of the upper realms.

"…A pupil?"

The instant it realized the red star was not a star at all, but the faint outline of some vast eye, the flower saw the cultivator who had already walked nearly to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the summit where it stood. The crushing gaze withdrew its power—and the flower gathered every scrap of spiritual energy it had accumulated over centuries.

"Please spare me!!!!"

"What the hell—ah. One hundred percent prisoner mode."

If I lost, I became a prisoner. If a monster's morale broke, it became a prisoner too, right? But why did its morale break? Boss monsters have ridiculously high morale correction. To break a boss's morale you'd have to pin it with consumables and hammer its morale into the dirt without killing it, and even then it was a coin flip…

I looked at the field boss.

An immobilized flower.

I'd cheerfully vacuumed up its murderous intent because my slaughter energy supposedly copied it.

If that counted as an attack and dropped its morale…

"This game is absolute garbage."

The hit detection was kind of broken, but if I chalked it up to the reality patch, it wasn't entirely impossible.

"…Prisoners don't give experience even if you kill them, do they."

Probably.

Even with the reality patch, this bizarre world still leaned harder into game logic than reality—and out of nowhere I had a prisoner over level 350.

A former field boss, no less.

And it was a single flower?

Killing it would still be a prisoner judgment, so no items, no experience. The classification itself was already [Item][Prisoner].

"Hey. Say something."

"…"

"?"

"Look at that level restriction. View details."

Hmm. An item that tanks spiritual recovery by five hundred percent in exchange for faster physical recovery. Not bad. But the level restriction meant it wasn't applying yet.

"Being a field boss must be why even a prisoner has insane item performance."

Originally prisoners were just things you sold for cash, but in this mod they came with actual effects—not even stats, full-blown effects. Did that mean I was supposed to be collecting prisoners now? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠At this stage?

As if answering the question in my head, a message window rose with a massive drain of spiritual power and rattled off TMI. Or wait—in this case, was it a tip rather than TMI?

I frowned at my innate talent doing whatever it wanted, but at least I didn't have to go out of my way to farm prisoners. Relieved, I checked the Mount Hwasan map—fully revealed by the base reward for forcing a field boss's surrender, [Terrain Reconnaissance 100%]—on my minimap.

Treasure chest markers that might hold random items. Instant dungeon markers. Elite and named mob markers that guaranteed rewards if killed. And last of all, neutral NPC markers that gave quests.

I hadn't expected that.

"Guess I should plan a route first…"

Prioritize treasure chests for item farming, skip the instant dungeons meant for experience, kill only the named and elite mobs for spare gear, then escape ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to the next map.

That perfect plan of mine was immediately blocked by an elite mob drawn right on top of the first treasure chest: [Mighty Cherry Blossom Tree].

"Oh, come on."

A meaningless combat flag and a loss against an elite that wasn't even a named? Are you kidding me?

I'd been grinning at the top-tier prefix Mighty, already imagining the gear it would drop—and the Auto-Battle defeat that floated up mocked me for it as I became the cherry blossom tree's prisoner.

More precisely, I was wrapped tight in its branches and bound, but still.

"Should've just fought it myself."

Auto-Battle was so overwhelmingly more convenient than fighting by hand that I'd leaned on it without thinking—but I never expected to lose to an elite that wasn't even a named.

Well done, cherry blossom tree. You're the strongest for beating me. So how about untying me now?

Of course a monster cherry blossom tree wasn't going to grant my wish. It just kept making pathetic attempts to suck out my spiritual power.

I had none to give, so those attempts were literally futile.

The cherry blossom tree's wasted efforts finally ended—and the tree itself became sawdust that had once been a cherry blossom tree—only after a full week had passed on the Status Window's clock and the prisoner-state time limit ran out.

"How the hell do only eok-kka events keep firing in the middle of everything."

For a whole week, colorful events had kept popping even while I was a prisoner, and not a single one of them changed the prisoner state. Even angrier for it, I stomped the sawdust underfoot with pure spite.

And of course, the item that dropped from killing the cherry blossom tree was a rare-grade pair of shoes. What a waste. A weapon would've been better. That Mighty prefix ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was wasted.

On a weapon it boosted raw damage by thirty percent. On armor it only raised durability by fifty percent—not defense.

"I really have no luck."

From the treasure chest icon—the hidden item that randomly dropped level-appropriate gear and consumables—all I got was a handful of magic-grade equipment and a few rare-grade consumables.

Was there a drop-rate nerf mod on or something? Matching level-appropriate gear was way too hard.

Whether it was the reality patch or not, even armor slowly lost durability just from being equipped, which made everything worse.

The gear replacement cycle was too fast! Without dungeon gear you basically had to walk around in normal equipment, and I couldn't even carry my main weapon day-to-day because I was too scared of burning durability!

"At times like this you find a dungeon and farm it…"

Which dungeon spawned as an encounter on which map was random, and events could make dungeons appear or vanish too. I was thinking how unlucky I was, debating whether I even needed to run the instant dungeons—places that normally only gave experience with drop rates no better than the field, now converted into one-time dungeons that vanished after a single clear thanks to completed terrain reconnaissance—when it happened.

A body walking the immortal path, long past feeling heat or cold, suddenly shuddered at a sharp chill. The hair on my head stood on end—and an event message rose.

Watching something like a dark violet portal tear open right in front of me, I screamed in pure terror.

"I'm not going in, you bastard?!"

Dark violet smoke seeped out, coiled around me, left behind that goddamn [Abyssal Spittle] debuff, and then the portal sealed shut and vanished. Only after confirming it was gone did the strength leave my body—frozen solid with fear—and I collapsed on the spot, ready to pull a miserable face and cry.

Won't even let me cry. You absolute piece of shit.