Cultivation Nerd

I stood by her side as Wu Yan sat on the wooden porch, the bitter cold growing sharper around us. Her breath escaped in soft, ghostly tendrils from the corner of her mask, giving the illusion of a breath where there was none.

The snow descended relentlessly, and some flakes even fell on the porch. Though my father diligently cleared it daily, I often helped by melting the stubborn remnants of ice with Qi. But no matter how much effort he put into keeping the porch pristine, this was winter; snow would always find its way back.

A lone snowflake landed on the nose of Wu Yan's mask, and the air around her shifted. The wind gathered, drawing the snowflakes into a swirling vortex that danced around her. Then, with a sudden surge, her Qi erupted violently, scattering the snow in a glittering burst.

For minutes, this cycle repeated. The winds forming and her Qi flaring until calm finally settled. Wu Yan resumed her habit of moving her chest as if breathing, maintaining the illusion of life.

She turned her head toward me, and a mouth formed on her throat.

“Everything feels okay,” she said, her voice sounding natural and like a human female... who had a sore throat.

Two weeks had passed since my initial conversation with my grandfather. During that time, I had done my best to impart basic cultivation knowledge to Wu Yan. She had pushed herself into a few breakthroughs on her own, often rushing without guidance. Not knowing how a normal cultivator operated, she relied on the strain in her spiritual roots to gauge how much Qi she could gather before risking an eruption or the shattering of her roots.

Unlike her, I had made no breakthroughs of my own. My progress was slow and steady, a daily grind that yielded small but stable gains. I hadn't hit any bottlenecks recently, so that was nice.

I approached her, the frost crunching under my boots, the only loud sound around here. I gently placed a hand on her shoulder and let my Qi flow into her. By now, she offered no resistance. She focused intently to stop her Qi from instinctively pushing mine out. This was a harsh instinct in all cultivators, and she abandoned even her fake breathing to concentrate as I probed for hidden injuries.

Despite her overwhelming talent, Wu Yan struggled with martial techniques. For instance, the golden bell defensive technique was a challenge; she could barely summon a few golden wisps of Qi from it.

Her shifting, morphing internal organs bore faint scorch marks; it was a testament to the strain her cultivation caused her. On anyone else, these injuries would have been fatal. For Wu Yan, they were little more than mild inconveniences.

A crueler and more reckless part of me wondered if even her heart was a vulnerability.

What if I removed her heart? Would she continue functioning like normal? Though her “normal” defied all expectations.

Of course, she was just a kid, and I would never do anything that cruel to a child and use them as a test subject. Or anyone else, for that matter!

Still, leaving her alone was worrying. Perhaps I should tell Liu Qian to take care of her... She would know what to do and help with cultivation stuff. But I didn't trust her.

Some of the clan members had already noticed that Wu Yan was strange, but who knew what they might do if they knew the exact source of her problems. People like Liu Qian always cared more about the clan than anything else.

Even if we had not had limited time, there was little more I could have done for her now. Wu Yan needed to grind at the basics and master them. She had to learn and comprehend techniques herself; my guidance could only take her so far on that part.

Her unique body had its own challenges despite the monstrously fast cultivation. Techniques designed for the average human had to be painstakingly adapted. For her, even the basics demanded more effort.

Sometimes, I felt more like a worrisome father than her teacher. I was afraid that she was becoming more used to the injuries she suffered during cultivation or using normal techniques.

“Keep an eye out for my parents, and remind Speedy to eat every now and then. The big guy has taken to burrowing underground for some reason and sleeping there,” I sighed. “He’s entering some kind of hibernation. Or maybe he’s just annoyed that I keep nagging him to eat and would rather sleep himself into starvation.”

Speedy had his own things to do, but for now, it was better that no one else knew what was truly happening with him.

I took my hand off Wu Yan’s shoulder, adjusted my black robe, and smoothed out a few folds.

Despite being a five-star Qi Gathering Cultivator, Wu Yan’s actual combat capabilities lagged far behind her cultivation. Her potential was undeniable, but she still had a long way to go.

For now, she was like one of those two-bit villains who get beaten by the protagonist despite being at many levels higher in cultivation.

I cast one last look toward the house. My parents had both gone out for work today, though not before I said my early goodbyes. They had tried—poorly—to hide how worried they were, their concern etched plainly on their faces.

It was… strange. In many ways, I wasn’t afraid of dying in pursuit of the answers I sought or the truths this world held. But seeing the fear in their eyes stirred something reluctant in me.

How would they cope if I didn’t return? I was their only child, their anchor in a harsh and unforgiving world. Deep down, I knew the answer. Their child’s death would devastate them.

I shook my head, dispelling the thought. Dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything.

Taking a deep breath, I turned and walked down the snowy pathway leading out of the yard. My gaze lingered for a moment on the frozen pond. Speedy, usually buried deep in his snow mound, wasn’t sleeping this time. His head poked out, and his sharp, watchful eyes locked onto mine.

I raised a casual hand in farewell. He didn’t respond, but I felt his steady presence as I walked away, with the crisp air biting my face. I took another deep breath, bracing myself for the next stage of my journey.

..

Hours later, I stood at the entrance to the city's outer wall, where the Liu Clan cultivators had gathered. Their steps had melted the dusting of snow outside the gates, as they shuffled around.

The air buzzed with anticipation, every breath forming clouds in the frosty air as warriors checked their weapons and adjusted their robes.

Behind us, the city loomed in silence, its towering walls stark against the encroaching dim morning light. Only a token force of guards remained to protect it. The rest of us were marching into what could end up being our death.

The Liu Clan cultivators wore shades of gray, their muted attire blending seamlessly with the overcast, snowy atmosphere. Despite the looming threat of battle, a surprising lightness hung in the air. Small groups formed here and there, their hushed conversations occasionally breaking into laughter.

Some exchanged dried meats and berries, nibbling as if preparing for a casual journey rather than a deadly mission. Others huddled in tight circles, betting with playful mischief over which clan would suffer the most losses in the coming conflict.

The gathering was a tapestry of ages and experiences. Young cultivators, barely past their rites of passage, stood alongside battle-hardened warriors whose scars from countless struggles. Even elders, some of whom I had never seen before, with faces lined with more wrinkles than hair in their head.

This wasn’t just another skirmish. It was an all-out war.

The meeting place carried a peculiar tang of salt. Though other scents lingered like faint perfumes and musky undertones, the salt stood out the most. People munched on salted meats, some exchanging pieces like currency, while others wagered their rations on what might happen in this expedition.

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Under this joyful atmosphere, some likely thought they might not come out alive after this expedition. Hence, rations were useless and were going all-in. It was a strange, joyful atmosphere with dark undertones mixed together. I had never seen something like this before.

Perhaps the military in my previous life was like this too, but I had no experience in the military.

Around two hundred cultivators had gathered. Usually, having many cultivators in one place would guarantee a spark of tension, if not outright conflict. Yet today, there was none. Everyone interacted with a strange camaraderie like a harmonious family united under a single cause. Well, we were family, so there was that.

It was almost as if the civil war my grandfather had once attempted to incite had never happened. Perhaps it hadn't, or maybe this was another layer to his convoluted plans. His actions rarely matched his words, and I wouldn't have been surprised if this entire gathering was part of some elaborate ruse.

Not that I cared much about the clan's internal politics. I'd long since decided I had more pressing matters to focus on. Let others obsess over political maneuvering; I had my own battles to fight.

Wu Yan and her condition were far more intriguing than the machinations of power struggles.

The Clan Head stood at the forefront of the group. His presence radiated authority, and the people around him barely spoke in whispers. He had a sharp, calculating gaze like a predator sizing up its prey. Beside him was my grandfather, his expression stoic as ever. Yet, there was an unusual energy about him; his movements were more animated than usual as he walked among the younger cultivators, doling out advice and issuing commands. For some reason, Liu Bo was also by the old man's side, following him like a silent shadow.

After a brief round of discussions and a rousing speech from the Clan Head, we set off. The energy among the group was palpable, and silent tension carried us forward like a gray wave in the white snow.

It was an odd sight, even for someone accustomed to the world of cultivation; dozens upon dozens of cultivators moving at top speed on foot, their movements unnaturally fast and synchronized.

The ground blurred beneath our feet, snow crunching rapidly, creating a rhythmic buzz that filled the air. Our movements kicked up a swirling cloud of snowy dust. We must have looked like an unstoppable avalanche crashing forward from far away.

...

By nightfall, we reached the edge of the nearest forest.

Traveling in such a large group had its drawbacks. Progress was slower, as everyone had to be mindful not to collide or disrupt the rhythm. Still, there was comfort in numbers. The sense of shared protection eased my usual paranoia, and though I remained cautious, I found myself less on edge than usual.

At the forest's edge, we began setting up camp. Tents sprang up in clusters, the weary trudging about to prepare for the night. Many breathed heavily, their fatigue evident after crossing the expansive field biome surrounding the city.

Throughout the journey, I had spoken to no one. As the others settled into their routines, I approached my grandfather. Though I had no desire to play a role in leading this makeshift army, I disliked being left in the dark. The higher-ups always had more information in such situations, and I intended to get a piece of it.

As I approached my grandfather at the head of the crowd, people had already begun breaking off branches and setting up fires. A handful of cultivators were huddled together, using Mortal Grade techniques to summon small flames in the palms of their hands to dry the wood.

My grandfather turned to me as if sensing my approach and smiled. "Do you want your own squad?"

What? Fuck no!

"No," I replied almost immediately.

If this were the Blazing Sun Sect, I wouldn't have minded leading a squad of loyal family members. But here, most people didn't know Earth Grade techniques, and they'd just slow me down. It wasn't like I looked down on them; it was more about the aftermath. If they died under my watch, I'd have to break the news to their families, and I didn't have the heart for that. That was one of the many reasons I didn't want to lead a squad.

If I had to choose team members, I'd pick Liu Bo or one of the Foundation Establishment elders. But I knew I'd get an earful if I asked for the latter.

"I just wanted to ask about the battle formations," I said, trying to sound uninterested. "What's the plan? Are the people split into squads, and does everyone know their role?"

In this world, military strategy wasn't as developed as it might have been elsewhere. It varied depending on the place, but the truth was simple: one Nascent Soul cultivator could render any strategy meaningless. Even a hundred Core Formation cultivators didn't stand a chance against a Nascent Soul. The gap in power at that stage was immense, larger than all the prior stages combined. Or so I'd heard.

"Well, the basic plan is to avoid getting flanked. We need to ensure the other two clans lose enough members in this expedition so they can't afford to split their forces later," my grandfather said with a vague smile. "You'd know more if you became a squad leader."

This old fox was quite scheming when he wanted to be.

"No, thanks," I said.

I wasn't about to take responsibility for people who were likely to die.

Besides, their strategy wasn't hard to guess. It was about weakening the other clans as much as possible during this expedition, leaving them too undermanned to retaliate.

After some small talk, I left the front of the army.

On my way to find a spot to set up camp, I noticed a group of cultivators digging a large hole on the right side of the camp. One of the clan elders was overseeing them. It looked like they were making a latrine; a communal toilet for the camp.

This was the ugly side of moving in large groups.

No ancient text ever clarified whether high-stage cultivators still needed to relieve themselves. But Qi Gathering cultivators certainly had yet to escape such bodily needs. I hadn't researched if they could hold it longer than normal people, and I couldn't exactly ask about it without sounding like a weirdo.

I reached the center of the camp and began setting up my tent.

Despite the looming battle, no one seemed panicked. They might not have known we could end up fighting the other clans, but they were at least aware we'd face Thunder Wolves. Yet the atmosphere was still relaxed. People were mingling, talking, and laughing with each other.

War had this strange vibe to it. Even in this world, there was something rustic about how people prepared for battle.

Some of the male and female cultivators were exchanging glances, and some of the women laughed and leaned on some of the men's arms. The way they looked, their lips moved, and the way they breathed showed something I didn't really want to think about.

Some of us were not going to make it back, and the thought of death put people in the mood for some things.

Well… the Liu Clan might experience a boost in population in about nine months.

Just a lotta incest babies. I shuddered at the thought. At least most of us weren't close cousins, and when it came to cultivation clans, keeping it in the family rings true more often than not.

This was the reality of clans, too; with cultivators a thing, it wasn't like a rich merchant was the first choice of a female cultivator. It wasn't just about pure attraction or power either, but it would be hard to invest feelings in someone you knew was likely going to die before you. At least, that was my view on things; it wasn't like I was going around asking them this.

Even Qi Gathering Cultivators usually lived around a hundred years since their bodies were so healthy and maintained by Qi. Most people, in these times with medieval-level medicine for most of the non-cultivator world, it was easy to die. Not to mention the monstrous beasts every winter; the age expectancy was shit.

It would be like getting attached to someone you knew was going to die much earlier due to some terminal illness or something like that.

Hopefully, the people who were getting to business weren't first cousins. Even if they were, I didn't really care that much. It was weird, but I never bothered with these things unless they were someone I cared about. They were hurting no one, except their future babies who might come out messed up.

After putting up my tent, the thing was as tall as me and attached to some ropes and metal beams that would make it easy to stand up in the tent. It was big for a tent.

My gaze drifted toward the front of the army, where my grandfather moved with deliberate grace among the elders, their figures half-shrouded by the swirling veil of snow and darkness. The cold night seemed alive around them, and the faint and distant moonlight reflected off the frost-covered ground, casting a pale, ethereal glow that illuminated the figures ahead just enough for me to make them out.

My grandfather stood at the center, speaking in low tones to the elders around him, their breaths rising in soft plumes that dissipated into the frigid air. Beside him, Liu Bo lingered like a shadow, his movements subtle, his expression unreadable.

So far, they had done a good job leading the small army, and I was willing to trust them. Also, war never interested me in my previous world, so it wasn't like I had any grand strategies. Even if I had, war with storage rings and no need to worry about supplies while each side had supernatural cultivators, it was bound to be very different.

I walked into the tent and looked at the snowy ground before sighing. Then, with an odd hand gesture, I created a barrier just above the snow and laid down.

Since I was by my lonesome self and had nobody else to worry about, I could splurge and relax a bit.

I set up a heating array that covered the inside of my tent and made the barrier I was lying down on become like a heated floor. Finally, I could enjoy all the pleasures and Array Conjurer had while traveling.

I would have offered to do this for the many other warriors, but that would be a huge waste of Qi. Even if I could accomplish it by doing the bare minimum, I didn't want to go into a battle with so little Qi.

At least I had the decency to set this array up inside the tent only, where other people couldn't see me.

I also set up a small light array and took out a book from my storage ring. Reading before bed had almost become second nature.