Cultivation nerd a xianx.., p.3
Cultivation Nerd: A Xianxia Progression Fantasy, page 3
An old man janitor? I could spot the trope from a mile away! There was a decent chance that this old man was a hidden powerhouse. Perhaps he was a revered elder or even a clan ancestor.
Should I try to approach him? By cliché standards, he shouldn’t be a villain, and having someone to watch my back in case I inadvertently offended some young master could prove invaluable.
However, what if I was wrong? He might just be an ordinary old man. My entire assumption was based on a cliché that might not even be true.
Regardless, even if he wasn’t some hidden boss, there was a lot of wisdom to gain from an elder like him.
With that thought in mind, I changed course and approached the old man.
Please be a super monster in hiding. Though I hated clichés in my last life, I wouldn’t mind if it improved my situation now!
It was the kind of situation where I wouldn’t watch a show about a multi-millionaire without problems in his life, but I would love to be one.
3
NERD GUY DOING NERDY THINGS
“Hello there, do you need any help?” I asked the old man, cautiously bowing and clasping my fist in respect as one would to a senior.
He looked at me, raised a questioning brow, and frowned. “Who the hell are you?”
“Uh, I’m the guy who was reading in the library and noticed that you were working hard even at your age. Even someone strong should take care of their health more.” I tried to soften my words by indirectly calling him strong, just in case this guy was really just an old janitor.
There was no losing option for me as long as I didn’t provoke the old man too much, especially if he was a powerhouse. Or he was a powerhouse in hiding, and I could end up as collateral damage… Perhaps I shouldn’t have gotten involved with this.
“No, I don’t need anyone to help me with my job.” The old man snorted and went back to sweeping, his hands shaking a bit as he had to lean on the broom occasionally to rest.
I stood there and stared; maybe he really was just an old man. Now, I felt a bit bad for trying to take advantage of him. He was probably just an elderly man who had to work here because he had no other choice.
It seemed like I didn’t have that protagonist luck after all. Still, I felt sorry for the old guy, and there was no doubt some things I could learn from him. “So, I could go and bring you your lunch.”
Okay, I probably said that in the most awkward way ever.
But the stairs in this place were crazy, and I would get tired just walking up and down them, not to mention someone his age.
The old man sighed and turned around. “What’s your deal, kid?”
“Honestly,” I stopped for a split second, thinking about how to phrase my words. But instead, I decided to be truthful. “I feel sorry for you and the elderly who have to work laborious jobs even after retirement. Sometimes, I wonder if this isn’t just me trying to be nice, but maybe I too am afraid that I might end up like that one day. If I do end up like that, I would like someone young to offer help when they can. Oh, and I was also hoping to learn something from someone who has lived so long in the sect. There is plenty to learn from an old man in a profession where people die young.”
He stared at me, and it was hard to tell what he could be thinking behind that stern look on his face. But he sighed again and shrugged. “Go and get me some tea, then.”
I didn’t get slapped into a fleshy smudge, which was a win for now.
I turned around and started walking down the stairs, and halfway down, it became clear that this would be a bit tiring, even for me.
When I returned, the old man was still sweeping around the same place, and I had a wooden cup of tea with a small cover above it. Fortunately, since I was running, it took me only ten minutes to return here.
However, I was breathing heavily, and my lungs felt like they were on fire. This was good training; maybe I should consider stair climbing for endurance.
“Here is your tea.” I offered him his tea.
The old man raised a questioning brow as he took the tea from my hand and sniffed it. Then he sat down on the ground near the scholarly statue and patted the spot next to him. I took that as a sign and went to sit down. As I settled, he remarked, “You’re either exceptionally kind or generally foolish. Why do something like this? Do you think a cultivator has all the time in the world? You should be training.”
“Running up and down the stairs was excellent training,” I replied, smiling despite the old man’s comments. I leaned against the foot of the statue and continued, “Whether I live for one, one hundred, or one thousand years, life is meaningless if you don’t do what you want during that time. I wanted to bring you some tea, and I did. I wouldn’t call that a waste of time. Even if I lived for a thousand years and spent nine hundred of those years in indoor cultivation, did I truly live longer than a hundred years?”
Some cultivators could live quite long. However, what was the use of living for 100 years if you spent 90 of those years indoors training? That was one of the many things I didn’t understand about cultivators. The old man also viewed things from a cultivator’s perspective.
I turned toward the old man and saw his wide eyes. Was he that shocked by my answer?
“Heh,” the old man chuckled. “I never looked at it that way.”
That was when I realized this guy could still be some formidable old master cultivator. So I cupped my hands in respect. “Of course, that is only my humble opinion as a disciple. I could be wrong, too. But I’m not here for that. I’m here to ask you some questions, wise elder.”
“Go on then; this is the most fun I’ve had in years.” The old man’s chuckle deepened.
“Why aren’t there many explanations for different paths than the standard one? There are no records of them,” I asked.
He must have lived here for decades, witnessing tens of thousands of sect disciples throughout the years.
“What’s the use of writing down failures? Though powerful cultivators can have a long lifespan, no one wants to waste their time on useless things… Heh, kind of like how you are wasting your time on me.”
“I wouldn’t call you useless. You have already helped me quite a lot with that answer.” I nodded. The old man shrugged and sipped his tea, dismissing my compliments as useless comments.
“Well, let me tell you. Our ancestors have perfected the current way of cultivation for tens of thousands of years, and it hasn’t changed for thousands of years,” he said, looking at the sky as if recalling a distant memory.
That didn’t make sense. I understood that cultivation had been optimized, but based on that assumption, the current cultivation methods should be the best. Yet it was widely known through stories and legends that in the past, there were stronger cultivators, even outliers of the whole system, who somehow became strong and defied their natural cultivation aptitude.
In the distant past, there were stories about immortals beyond the Nascent Soul Realm roaming the lands.
I shared my thoughts with the old man, and he rubbed his goat-like beard, deep in thought. “Huh, you make some good points. But that’s because what cultivator would share a technique they worked hard on with others? Things like that could get lost in time. Also, it could have been an elixir that no longer exists. Or maybe there was more Qi in the air back then.”
He continued to offer various other reasons like a treasure trove of assumptions from people across the ages.
But I somewhat understood why cultivation would halt at a certain stage.
Knowledge was power—literally in this world. Knowing a certain technique was power. A cultivator sharing their technique was like… By modern standards, it could be compared to telling a potential enemy how to create an atomic bomb and providing them with the tools to do so.
“In the past, there were many legendary cultivators whose powers defied common sense,” the old man said. “Even the creator of this sect, the Ten Thousand Sun Saint, was such a figure. He couldn’t be harmed by flames, and some said he could wield the power of the sun from the palm of his hands.”
Okay, that had to be exaggerated over the years. Because… it had to be; such absurd power would be catastrophic if it existed. But there had to be some hints of truth to it. Immunity to fire could be real, even if it contradicted everything I knew about physics and biology from my previous world.
But figuring it out was the most exciting part of this whole thing.
However, I might need to change my mindset about how I perceive the world and even the laws of physics.
“You have been honest with me, kid. So I will be honest with you too. I don’t have the answers to most of your questions, and I never asked questions like that or even wondered about them.” The old man put the empty wooden teacup down with a final clack. “Maybe that was what held me back from advancing further in my cultivation. But I can still give you one piece of advice. I can tell you’re a curious kid, but don’t try experimenting with things on your own body.”
I technically wasn’t a kid, and I wasn’t going to debate things like that. “I might be curious, but I’m not dumb.”
“That might be so, but I can tell you’re different from others,” the old man said.
“Different? How so?”
“By now, many kids your age would have tried to force me to talk if they wanted answers. Break my fingers one by one, and then threaten to break my limbs too.”
Holy shit, okay, that was way too extreme! Who even goes around beating on old men like that?
Right, xianxia nonsense and saving face.
“Of course, they never succeed,” the old man snickered. “After all, most of the servants here are related to cultivators but have little or no talent to cultivate. The last thing we want is for someone to slip through and poison our sect’s food at a feast and kill us all.”
Poison? Yeah, with that, even a mortal could kill a careless cultivator.
“Did that happen before?” I asked, unsure.
“Oh yeah, the Great Sage of Divine Slaying Poison. He was known for killing his enemies and slaughtering whole clans like this.” He nodded. “But don’t worry; the sects have taken countermeasures against something like that. It will never happen again. Though some have been worried since the Great Sage of Divine Slaying Poison hasn’t been seen in hundreds of years.”
Okay, first, Great Sage of Divine Slaying Poison? That name was way too much of a mouthful. But long and confusing titles were synonymous with xianxia.
“Well, I have to get back to work, and you should spend your time more wisely than with an old man like me. I already have a foot in the grave,” he joked.
I shrugged and got up. “Come on now, old man, don’t go around telling youngsters what to do. That is uncool.”
He got my jesting tone and slapped me on the back. “You’re an okay kid, train hard so you don’t die a useless death. Also, next time you come and bother me, don’t forget to bring a cup of tea.”
“Then I will make sure to bring a cup of tea every day,” I said, standing up and walking away. The old man sighed but didn’t refuse my offer.
There was much to learn from someone like him. He had lived a long life in such a dangerous world while being a less-than-average cultivator. What were his methods for surviving so long in a profession where men usually met an early demise?
Next time, I should ask about his survival tips in a forest. He probably went on many expeditions outside throughout his lifetime, and those were the things I was dreading, as some were mandatory. No rule said I wouldn’t meet a Nascent Soul powerhouse on my first outing.
Many might consider survival tips from nearly a hundred years ago outdated. However, that was different in a world like this. It was likely that the same exams, enemy sects, and petty rivalries that the old man had to deal with during his disciple years were the ones we were currently facing.
How could such a thing happen? Probably because the people in charge remained the same. If I were to guess why this world had seen few advancements over thousands of years, it was because, in two millennia, only two or three generations had passed at most. Even the
“Younger” generations that were next in line of power were hundreds of years old. Those who lived for centuries focused solely on their cultivation and cared little for progress elsewhere.
I descended the stairs and wandered into one of the many forests surrounding the mountain. The area was generally safe, as I was still inside the sect’s walls, making it an ideal training ground that remained hidden.
My first task was to place the brush and notebook atop a nearby boulder. Then, I approached a tree, clenched my fist, and prepared for a punch. Instinct and logic told me that I wouldn’t break my hand by punching a tree with all my might. However, remnants of my past life still held me back.
After gazing at the tree briefly, I closed my eyes and imagined it as a fluffy bear. With that image in mind, I unleashed a full-force punch. Upon opening my eyes, despite what I expected, I saw a dent in the solid tree. The tree was thicker than my waist, far from flimsy or soft.
Holy shit! This is so amazing! I have superpowers!
I had to calm down despite how amazing it felt to be superhuman. I could nerd out later.
I wasn’t here merely to test my raw strength. Instead, I took a deep breath and focused on a specific technique, rewinding my fist again.
This time, I pushed aside the fear from my past world, where fists were one of the most vulnerable parts of the human body. Here, it was like a dream, where my fist was unbreakable and my power limitless. I needed to visualize the perfect punch and employ that martial technique.
My fist shot forward, and as I rotated it, the air around it twisted, forming a small twister resembling a fang. The endpoint of this twister was the tip of my knuckle.
Piercing Fang Fist!
As soon as my fist made contact with the tree, I felt it shake and crumble under the power of my punch, taking out a large chunk.
Ultimately, I stared agape at the missing piece, as if a giant drill had been used on one side of the tree.
How was this possible? It didn’t make any sense! The laws of physics seemed to be mere suggestions here, but my punch was so incredible!
The tree fell to the ground, and I found myself in a trance, staring at it for a few minutes.
I knew this would happen; Piercing Fang Fist was the martial technique that Liu Feng had perfected over the years. Despite my muscle memory, I couldn’t execute it as well as he could on my first try.
It was astonishing that this was considered one of the lowest-grade martial techniques.
In this world, martial techniques were categorized into four grades:
Mortal
Earth
Sky
Heaven
Piercing Fang Fist belonged to the Mortal Grade, the weakest category. Something you could even buy in the market with a bit of luck.
Ordinary people considered Mortal Grade techniques attainable, yet it was still incredibly impressive!
Just the thought of higher-grade techniques made my heart race. How powerful would a Sky or Heaven Grade technique be? Even Earth Grade was bound to be something amazing!
Techniques were further rated within each grade, divided into low, middle, and high tiers. My technique was a middle-tier Mortal Grade.
I attempted the technique again, and a whip-like motion followed, as I didn’t aim at anything. I experimented with hip twists and power from my legs, trying to apply knowledge from my previous world. Still, my long hair kept hitting my face like a horse’s tail.
It even stung my eyes a bit. “Damn, why did that idiot think keeping long hair was a good idea?”
I rubbed my stinging eyes and then gathered a handful of hair.
Taking out a roll of bandages, I used some to tie my hair into a ponytail. Even then, as I moved quickly, my hair slapped and obstructed my vision. That’s when I realized something crucial. “The hair has to go.”
The original Liu Feng cherished his hair, but it would hinder any fight. Besides, I knew from Liu Feng’s memories that longer hair was harder to maintain, requiring extensive conditioning. A waste of time, in my opinion.
Blasphemy! called a part of me. That part was the original Liu Feng’s memories that I decided to ignore.
However, there was one lingering concern. Would anyone notice? After all, Liu Feng was quite fond of his hair.
Perhaps I could use the excuse that I cut it to strengthen my resolve.
With a touch of anxiety, I decided to cut my hair after this training session.
Xin Ma managed his library as always, but at least today was more interesting. It wasn’t every day that someone became so engrossed in books about the basics.
At least the kid had some basic decency, refraining from making noise or attempting to sneak the books out of the building. He even returned the books to their proper places. This quickly became Xin Ma’s favorite disciple generation—which wasn’t a difficult threshold to cross since he didn’t like any of them. They usually just made his job more difficult.
Suddenly, someone else entered, and with the unmistakable sound of something hard hitting the floor, Xin Ma knew that the old man had arrived. However, unlike before, the old man smiled as he sat with an empty wooden cup in hand. “You won’t believe what I saw today.”
“A dragon with crow’s legs?”
“No, something even rarer. A likable disciple.” The old man nodded. “He actually felt sorry for me as I cleaned.”
Cleaning? Xin Ma wondered, then realized what had happened and chuckled, with the old man following suit.
Having cleaners posed a security risk in certain areas of the sect, such as the library and its surroundings. Instead, the sect employed an Inscription Master to create cleaning arrays and similar solutions.
