Chapter Twenty-Two: Confrontation and Crisis

The strange mutations among living creatures are minimized in the depths of the primeval rainforest. Here, the towering trees that block out the sun provide unmatched shelter for all forms of life. It is known that the pollution of the violet moon has the least effect on plants. So far, no official reports have recorded incidents where mutated plants attacked humans or other creatures. This is precisely why Reed and his companions dared to venture here with only a handful of armed guards.

Of course, aside from the ancient rainforest, the deep sea also offers sanctuary, but its vast population of marine life makes it vulnerable; many sea creatures fall prey to pollution, resulting in grotesque schools of fish and giant whales attacking merchant ships.

Altogether, the more they pondered, the heavier their hearts became. And as their thoughts churned uneasily, Adam, the oak tree, found himself in a state of discomfort as well.

When the violet moonlight spilled across the forest, Adam sensed a sharp, unpleasant stimulus in the air that troubled his senses. At the treetop, the pale white glow that edged the crystalline petals of his jewel blossom stood in stalemate against the violet radiance. The purple moonlight, aggressive and insistent, sought to invade the blossom, while its own gentle aura fiercely resisted.

This was the source of Adam’s unease.

There was nothing in Adam’s original understanding at birth regarding the violet moon. But listening to the humans below and feeling the current disturbance, Adam realized this phenomenon was undoubtedly ominous.

With this awareness, Adam acted at once. He gathered the entire strength of the oak, and the pale aura atop the jewel blossom began to intensify. Simultaneously, the broad outer leaves curled upward, shimmering with a faint green light. The glow grew, making the leaves appear nearly translucent. The veins within became sharply defined, with a fluid flowing like water, imbuing the tree with an air of mystery.

Soon, the light from the blossom and the leaves merged into a single sheet. Before long, the white aura was replaced by a surge of green radiance. In a flash, a green shield, like a canopy of energy, enveloped the crown of the tree.

The curled leaves now fully sheltered the blossoms, granting Adam further focus to channel all his power into the outermost leaves. Instantly, the green shield expanded, extending its protective embrace.

A vivid boundary formed between the green and violet light, and Adam finally felt the oppressive sensation of being invaded fade away. Yet, even as the symptoms vanished, Adam remained vigilant, determined to maintain this equilibrium.

Unbeknownst to Adam, as he concentrated the tree’s energy in the leaves and let it radiate outward, the birds and other creatures that had hidden beneath the foliage began to emerge, reveling in the glow. Like beings intoxicated, the birds—no longer fearful—hopped eagerly to the treetop, their senses awakened by the green light.

The radiance seeped through their mouths and noses, sharpening their minds with newfound clarity. The birds’ eyes turned lively, their feathers sleek and smooth. Butterflies and insects fluttered more vibrantly, their wings dazzling with color. Even the squirrels, once sheltering in the tree’s crevices, scampered toward the crown, entranced by the glow. The elder owl of the tribe, too, left its hollow, wide-eyed, swooping up to perch among the branches.

The treetop, lively yet serene, became a gathering place for all.

“Does anyone else notice the oak’s fragrance growing stronger?” someone asked.

“Is it? Hasn’t it always been like this?” another replied, wrinkling his brow and taking a deep breath.

“Actually, it does smell richer. And the scent is a little different from the jewel blossom’s usual fragrance.”

At night, the blossom’s scent would usually fade, but now it was replaced by a fresh aroma, tinged with a hint of earth that the jewel blossom never possessed.

“Could it be…?” A realization dawned, prompting someone to look up toward the tree’s crown.

Yet under the purple moon, those sheltered in the shadows saw nothing amiss overhead—the battle of light remained hidden from those below.

“Seems unchanged. Maybe the scent comes from the trunk?” Anderson suggested, moving toward the massive oak.

Just then, a voice drew everyone’s attention.

“What’s going on? Is my detector broken? The pollution level was at 0.48, now it’s 0.47—wait, now it’s 0.46!”

“No, something’s not right. My pollution level is dropping, too!”

In an instant, everyone grabbed their detectors, scanning themselves.

The results were astonishing: the pollution levels on every person were falling rapidly.

Barton, the tribal elder, was unimpressed by the outsiders’ surprise, but given their status, he refrained from reprimanding them. His duty was only to guide his own people in piety; the outsiders were best left to his grandson, Simon. The outcome did not concern him—such was the rule of their tribe: priest and chief, each to his own role. Barton was the priest; secular affairs and policies toward outsiders were Simon’s to decide. Good or bad, all would face it together.

“Pollution levels dropping?” Simon watched the group’s excitement calmly, understanding the significance at once. Given the importance these people placed on violet moon pollution, the decrease meant something substantial.

Thus, Simon felt a sense of relief. The value of the sacred tree in their eyes would rise, strengthening its protection. As servants of the tree, Simon could now negotiate greater benefits for his clan. With this thought, his spirits soared.

Under the night sky, the visitors chatted joyously, while Simon’s tribe prayed quietly before the oak. The scene appeared tranquil and peaceful, yet beneath it, danger was drawing near.

An hour later, deep within the rainforest, on the riverbank beyond a towering mountain, grotesque crocodiles emerged from the black waters. Each was over five meters long, covered in festering sores, shrouded in wisps of black mist. They raised their heads, as if sniffing the air, then surged forward. Under the violet moon, every plant in their path withered. More than fifty crocodiles moved swiftly and purposefully toward the oak’s location.