The days following the birth of the Cosmic Chronic were some of the most peaceful Tyler had ever known—almost suspiciously so.
The Verdant Leaf Sect thrived.
The Spirit Herb fields shimmered under twin suns, the Meditation Garden practically sang with harmonious energy, and the new recruits—drawn naturally by the Doctrine of Chill—began arriving like dandelion seeds on the wind.
Some came bearing battered swords and haunted eyes, survivors from broken sects seeking refuge.
Others came barefoot and smiling, sensing instinctively that Verdant Leaf wasn't like the others.
All were welcomed—after one simple test.
Tyler would brew a cup of Spirit Herb tea, set it down, and say:
"Sit. Sip. Breathe."
Those who could settle into calm with just that?
They stayed.
Those who grew restless, or whose ambition crackled like storm-clouds behind their eyes?
They found excuses to leave by sunset.
No violence. No pressure.
The Weed Dao rejected them naturally.
But peace, as any cultivator worth their first Spirit Herb puff knows, never lasts.
Not in the Qi-Realm.
Not when miracles start blooming on forgotten mountains.
It began with whispers.
A traveling merchant passing through the neighboring Lotus Valley told tales of a "hidden sanctuary" where cultivators advanced faster than the old sects deemed possible.
A rogue cultivator claimed he'd broken through a five-year bottleneck after inhaling a single breath of strange green mist carried on the mountain winds.
An alchemist reported seeing "aurora lights" dancing above an unmarked valley at midnight.
The world was paying attention.
Tyler, hammock-lounging as usual, knew trouble was coming the moment Calmleaf approached carrying two scrolls sealed with urgent red wax.
"We have received… invitations," Calmleaf said.
"Invitations?" Tyler blinked. "That sounds suspiciously non-hostile."
Calmleaf's lips twitched. "Perhaps. Or perhaps the storm simply smiles before it strikes."
He unrolled the first scroll.
Summons by the Ironwood Alchemy Guild
"A representative of the Verdant Leaf Sect is invited to present unique herbal products at the upcoming Cross-Valley Trade Meet. Failure to appear may result in sectoral blacklisting."
Tyler snorted. "Yeah, sounds totally voluntary."
He glanced at the second scroll.
This one was thinner.
Colder.
The ink was dark as old blood.
Notice from the Azure Cloud Sect
"New Sect Activity detected in the Eastern Verdant Range. An official delegation will arrive within 30 days to inspect for compliance with established regional cultivation norms. Unauthorized spiritual resource monopolization may result in corrective action."
Tyler re-read it.
Then again.
Then set it on fire.
"Yeah," he said, blowing on the ashes. "We are so not gonna vibe with those guys."
The disciples gathered in an emergency meeting at the Grand Bong Pavilion—a bamboo hall Tyler had built specifically for Important Chill Business.
Grubroot sat solemnly, hammer cradled like a pet.
Willow fidgeted with a tea cup, eyes bright with concern.
Sparkwind leaned so far back in his chair he nearly toppled twice before Calmleaf nailed the chair legs to the floor with casual precision.
Tyler stood before them, Cosmic Chronic in hand.
"This," he said, holding up the glowing bud, "is why they're coming."
"They want it?" Grubroot rumbled.
"They need it," Tyler corrected. "Or rather, they need control over it. Spirit Herbs that boost cultivation without pain? That heal your spirit instead of beating it into submission?"
He shook his head.
"That's disruptive. That's dangerous to the old way."
Calmleaf nodded. "The established sects thrive on struggle. On scarcity. You are offering abundance."
"And abundance," Willow murmured, "undermines power."
Sparkwind finally managed to sit up straight. "So what's the plan, Boss? Fight? Hide? Pretend we're a traveling circus?"
Tyler grinned.
"None of the above."
He leaned forward, voice low, electric with excitement.
"We go louder."
Over the next week, Verdant Leaf Sect exploded with activity.
New terraces were carved into the hillsides, each lined with lush Spirit Herb varietals.
The Meditation Garden expanded, sprouting crystal pools, natural labyrinths, and stargazing platforms.
A simple yet majestic Sect Gate was built—a great arch woven from living Spirit Bamboo, topped with a floating emerald disc inscribed with the Sect Motto:
Grow Before You Go.
Sparkwind, with Willow's reluctant supervision, even installed floating Spirit Lanterns that drifted lazily across the valley, pulsing with ambient light in time with the Sect's Qi.
By the time the first curious merchants arrived—wide-eyed and cautious—they found not a shabby backwater operation, but a blooming oasis of peace, color, and palpable chill.
Trade began quietly at first.
Tyler sold tiny pouches of Spirit Kush to wandering cultivators for modest sums of Spirit Stones.
Dreamleaf extracts for sleepless alchemists.
Thunder Bloom petals for Qi reinforcement pills.
Everything low-key. Calm. Manageable.
But then someone got hold of a sliver of Cosmic Chronic.
A rogue pill refiner named Madam Ping bought a sample, smoked it under the moon, broke through a seven-year Core Formation bottleneck on the spot—and then rode a rented Spirit Beast across three provinces shouting about it.
Within a month, the Verdant Leaf Sect was a legend.
The Valley of Eternal Chill, they called it.
The Mountain of the Laughing Leaves.
The Birthplace of the New Dao.
By the time the Azure Cloud Sect's "delegation" finally appeared on the horizon—great banners snapping in the breeze, armored envoys flanking flying Spirit Carriages—the Verdant Leaf Sect was no longer an obscure weed patch.
It was a phenomenon.
And Tyler was ready.
On the morning of the Azure Cloud delegation's arrival, Tyler stood at the Sect Gate, flanked by his disciples.
He wore simple robes, cinched with a sash woven from Spirit Vines.
No weapons.
No armor.
Only a single, slow-burning joint tucked behind one ear.
Grubroot cracked his knuckles ominously.
Willow tucked sprigs of calming lavender into her sleeves.
Sparkwind hummed with barely-contained static energy.
Calmleaf stood motionless, serene as a mountain.
The Azure Cloud envoys dismounted, eyes cold, scanning every detail of the valley.
Their leader, a man with a silver crown and a face like a sour lemon, stepped forward.
"I am Elder Jinhai," he said, voice sharp as a blade sheathed in silk. "By authority of the Azure Cloud Sect and the Eastern Coalition, I am here to inspect your Sect's compliance with established cultivation law."
Tyler smiled, slow and lazy.
"Sure," he said. "But first…"
He flicked his wrist.
A disciple scurried forward with a tea tray—two cups, steaming gently with a fresh brew of Spirit Herb tea.
"Sit. Sip. Breathe," Tyler said, voice carrying across the valley.
The Azure Cloud cultivators looked confused. Suspicious.
One younger envoy, perhaps not yet fully hardened by politics, hesitated—then accepted a cup.
He sipped.
His eyes widened.
His shoulders relaxed.
He let out a long, deep breath—and for a single beautiful moment, the weight of sect politics fell from him like a crumbling tower.
The elder noticed—and his frown deepened.
"You seek to ensorcel my men?" Jinhai snapped.
Tyler shrugged. "Nah. Just offering a vibe. Your choice."
The elder sneered.
"No cultivation can be built on weakness."
"Who said anything about weakness?" Tyler asked, smiling like a man who already knew the ending of the story.
He gestured around.
"You're standing in the middle of a field that can break bottlenecks, heal injuries, awaken talents—all through peace, patience, and the right herb."
He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a low rumble.
"And you know what scares you, Elder Lemonface?"
Jinhai flinched.
"It's not that we're dangerous," Tyler said softly. "It's that we're better."
The stand-off ended without bloodshed.
Jinhai and his delegation left, furious but unable to find any legal grounds for immediate action.
The Verdant Leaf Sect was now officially recognized—begrudgingly—as an independent Minor Sect.
And Tyler?
Tyler climbed to the highest terrace that night, lit a fresh Cosmic Chronic joint, and watched the stars twinkle like lazy fireflies.
Behind him, the disciples celebrated with Spirit Vine wine and impromptu cloud-surfing contests.
The world was changing.
And Verdant Leaf would be ready.
Not through conquest.
Through cultivation.
Through creativity.
Through cosmic chill.
Through the eternal, undeniable power of Herbal Enlightenment.