Chapter 203: It works best with women I’m close to...
Back after Alena said thank you, Damon began to chat with her.
Damon harvested the remaining four blossoms with the same precision, handing each one to Alena as he finished.
By the end, she was looking at him differently.
"Where did you learn to do that?" she asked. "I’ve been studying alchemy for six years, and I still struggle with Azure Vein Blossoms."
"Had a good teacher."
"Who?"
"Someone I met along the way."
Alena frowned. "That’s vague."
"I’m a vague person."
She studied him for a long moment. Then she shook her head and turned back to the now-empty patch of ground.
"The tournament," she said. "I watched your matches. All of them."
Damon straightened up. "And?"
"And I watched your women too."
He didn’t react. "What about them?"
Alena’s jaw tightened.
"They grew too fast. Ariel Aquaria was at the Eighth Level of Elementary Spirit Realm during the selection. By the tournament, she was at Earth Spirit Realm. The Nightrider twins went from Earth Spirit Realm to Heavenly Spirit Realm in less than two months."
She looked at him directly.
"That’s not normal." Alena said.
Her voice was flat, but the look in her eyes was anything but. They were sharp, searching, the way they might look when she’d identified an ingredient she didn’t yet have a name for.
Damon met her gaze without flinching. "No," he agreed. "It’s not."
She held his stare for another beat. "How?"
He let the silence stretch. A deliberate thing, measured and unhurried, long enough that the ambient sounds of the forest filled the space between them — the distant rustle of leaves, the soft creak of branches overhead.
Long enough to make her shift her weight, just slightly, from one foot to the other.
Then he smiled. Slow and easy, the kind of smile that offered nothing and implied everything.
"I help them."
Alena’s frown deepened, carving a fine line between her brows. Her fingers had found her staff again, curling around the wood out of habit.
"Help them how?"
Damon let the word land cleanly, without decoration or apology.
"Intimately."
The word hung in the air between them like smoke — visible, impossible to dismiss, curling into every corner of the silence that followed it.
Alena’s face went red.
Not a subtle blush. A full, burning crimson that spread from her cheeks down to her neck.
"I... what?"
Damon kept his expression neutral. "I have a method. It works best with women I’m close to. Physically close."
"You’re saying..." Alena’s voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "You’re saying you had sex with them to make them stronger?"
"I’m saying I helped them."
"That’s..."
She trailed off. Her hands gripped her staff so tightly her knuckles went white.
"That’s not possible," she finally managed.
"And yet it happened."
Alena opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Nothing came out.
Damon watched her process the information. The blush hadn’t faded. If anything, it had spread.
"You’re blushing," he said.
"I am not."
"You are. Your face is the color of a Crimson Lotus Root."
"I know what color my face is!"
Her voice came out sharper than she probably intended. She winced and looked away.
"That’s... that’s not an appropriate thing to tell someone."
"You asked."
"I asked how they grew so fast. I didn’t ask for details about your personal life."
Damon shrugged. "I gave you the answer. What you do with it is your business."
Alena took a shaky breath.
Then another.
When she spoke again, her voice was steadier, but the blush remained.
"Does it work with anyone?"
Damon raised an eyebrow.
"I mean theoretically," she added quickly. "For research purposes. As an alchemist, I need to understand all possible methods of cultivation enhancement."
"Of course."
"So does it?"
Damon considered his answer.
"It works with women I have a connection with. The stronger the connection, the better the results."
Alena nodded slowly. Her eyes had taken on a calculating look.
"And what kind of connection are we talking about?"
"Emotional. Physical. Both."
She was quiet for a long moment.
Then she looked at him with an expression that was half curiosity and half embarrassment.
"And you’re offering this to everyone? Or just to specific people?"
Damon let the question sit for a beat before answering, his golden eyes catching the diffused light filtering through the canopy above them.
"I’m selective," he said simply, the faint curve of a smile on his lips saying rather more than the words did.
Alena’s blush, which had only just begun to recede, flooded back with renewed intensity.
She turned away from him with a small, purposeful motion and busied herself with her storage ring, twisting it around her finger and pretending to check its contents with great concentration, as though the ring had suddenly developed an inventory that required urgent auditing.
"I should get back to collecting herbs," she said, her voice carrying the carefully assembled dignity of someone trying very hard to sound unaffected. "The realm closes soon. I still have a quota to meet, and I won’t meet it standing here."
"I’ll walk with you."
She glanced back at him over her shoulder, and something flickered in her expression before she looked away again. "You don’t have to do that."
"I know," Damon said.
She didn’t argue further.
There was a pause — brief, weighted — where neither of them moved, the wind shifting softly through the tall grass around them and carrying the faint, sweet scent of herbs still waiting to be gathered.
Then Alena exhaled quietly through her nose, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and started walking.
Damon fell into step beside her without another word.
They moved through the field in silence, their footsteps falling into an unhurried, almost unconscious rhythm.
Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be.
But something had shifted in the air between them — some invisible threshold had been crossed during that strange, honest conversation — and both of them felt it, even if neither was willing to be the first to name it.