What do you mean I'm a cultivator?-Chapter 27

As the seasons slowly changed around him, Jiang Cheng remained steadfast in his routine.

The daily tasks at the outer sect now passed almost without notice.

His mind would often drift to cultivation ideas or sword movements even as his hands moved the axe to chop down wood.

He would quite often try to cultivate while moving. To absorb the motes of Qi around him. But he never could. Despite that, it was a good exercise.

A part that had him interested in this success, was how The motes of Qi would gather around a cultivator, Thanks' to the dantian's passive attraction, and if one stood still enough, and not allowed the surrounding Qi to enter them, perhaps just over their skin, the Qi would condense into the same density as the one in their dantian.

It was something he took note of, but had no way to do something about it.

His sword practice continued to improve. The basic "Flowing Water Sword Art" was becoming second nature, his movements fluid and precise.

Though untested in combat, his movements no longer needed much concentration, as the technique had become muscle memory, allowing him to use Qi to enhance the blade pretty much at every swing, Reaching what the book called the Completion stage.

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The book, much like other techniques and arts, separated experience levels into four stages, From Unformed comprehension, referring to one fist starting to grasp a art, to minimal comprehension, where one remembered the moves, but needed a lot of focus to perform, to the Completion, signaling one's "mastery" over the technique.

Lastly, there was the mastery stage, where one had completely learned the technique, and was able to fit it in tandem with different techniques, Such as performing said technique, if it was a weapon one, with a movement one.

The book also wrote about some kind of fifth stage, but there wasn't any info on it. apparently, that was going over the mastery of a technique, applying it into different ways that the original creator didn't think of.

One evening, as he practiced behind his cabin, the wooden sword finally gave in, splitting down the middle as he attempted to channel a particularly concentrated stream of Qi through it.

Jiang Cheng stared at the broken weapon in his hand, not with disappointment but with some anger. It was not truly the weapon's fault, but his own as well.

Was he a true cultivator, if he couldn't even control his own power perfectly?

The next day, he grabbed another one with no issue, feeling each one by flowing Qi through them, checking their density and hardness, feeling for any hidden cracks deep in the wood. Since the sect didn't really care about some mortal grade wooden swords, he found no issue with just leaving the broken one in his cabin. This wooden sword was made of a denser, dark wood. Seems like it was a bit tougher.

As the anniversary of his return from the mine approached, Jiang Cheng held the last pill from Elder Feng's jade bottle. Nine consumed, one remaining.

His progress had been remarkable by outer sect standards, One part thanks to the very high purity pills, and part to his determination.

Advancing from the sixth stage to the eighth in less than a year, was certainly unheard of. Yet he knew the final step to the ninth stage would be the most challenging yet.

On the exact night marking one year since the jade mole incident, Jiang Cheng sat in lotus position on his worn mat. The small cabin was exactly as it had been when he first returned. He had spent nothing on comforts or luxuries, channeling all resources into his cultivation.

He removed the final pill from the jade bottle, studying its azure glow one last time before placing it on his tongue. As he gulped the pill down, it released its dense Qi into his body, Jiang Cheng closed his eyes and focused inward.

This time, the surge of energy felt different. Whether because his body had grown accustomed to the pills or because his control had improved, the wild Qi seemed less rebellious than before. It flowed through his body without thrashing, As Cheng had it in a iron hold, pushing it towards his dantian like water finding its natural course.

As the energy pooled in his dantian, Jiang Cheng began the familiar process of condention.

The pressure built steadily, more intense than any previous breakthrough.

Sweat beaded on Jiang Cheng's forehead and soaked through his robes as he fought to maintain control of the process. His dantian strained under the increased pressure, threatening to rupture if he lost concentration even for a moment.

Hours passed as Jiang Cheng sat motionless, engaged in the internal battle. Outside his cabin, night deepened and then began to give way to the first hints of dawn. Still, he remained locked in meditation, guiding the transformation within his dantian with unwavering focus.

And then, just as the first light of the new day crept through the small window of his cabin, the swirling energy in his dantian collapsed inward, compressing to a density he had never experienced before. For a moment, it felt as though his Qi was as dense as the mole's.

But that was just the high of the breakthrough.

Ninth stage of Qi Condensation.

Jiang Cheng opened his eyes, his vision sharper than ever before. The dim interior of his cabin appeared bright as day, every detail crystal clear. He could sense the spiritual energy in the air around him.

sitting up, he tried to force his Qi to form outisde of his body, something capable from the next realm and onward, with no Sucess.

Any Qi that he forced out, just dissipated in the surroundings.

Jiang Cheng allowed himself a rare smile. One year ago, he had returned from the mine.

A sixth stage cultivator who had barely escaped with his life. Now he stood at nearly the peak of mid stage Qi Condensation.

The path ahead remained long and uncertain. Foundation Establishment was not merely another step but a fundamental transformation.

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One that many cultivators spent time and time again trying, preparing for, only to fail.

Without access to specialized pills designed for the breakthrough, most outer disciples could only dream of advancing.

If they even reached the fifteenth stage ,that is.

Working in the morning, studying in the afternoon, training in the evening, and cultivating at night.

As he prepared for another day at the Tower of Records, Jiang Cheng glanced at the empty jade bottle that had once contained Elder Feng's pills. A gift that the elder had likely forgotten giving, but one that had sped up Cheng's cultivation by a large factor.

He carefully placed the empty bottle in a small wooden box where he kept his few possessions, One of the only furniture the cabin had, save for a chair and a table, then stepped outside to face the new day.

That evening, as he practiced with his new training sword, Jiang Cheng felt a quiet determination settle over him. One year had brought him from the brink of death to rapid advance.

What might the next year bring?

The wooden sword whistled through the air, trailing faint wisps of Qi as he moved through the forms of the Flowing Water Sword Art.

His movements were no longer those of a novice but of someone who had begun to internalize the essence of the technique in his being.

As darkness fell, Jiang Cheng returned to his cabin, ready for another night of cultivation.

As the final days of the year approached, the inner part of the falling star sect began preparations for the New Year celebration.

From his position at second floor of the Tower of Records, Jiang Cheng could see servants and disciples alike bustling about, carrying decorations, streamers of crimson and gold, and large paper lanterns to be hung from the wall of the inner sect pavilions.

It was like the inner sect wanted to show how much higher they were from the outer sect. It was aggravating, to know that despite his progress, for some people, he was no more than a unimportant ant, of no importance.

On the eve of the New Year, Jiang Cheng found himself standing at the boundary between the outer and inner sects, watching as the celebrations unfolded. The inner sect compound was transformed, bathed in warm light from countless lanterns.

The fragrance of exotic dishes wafted over the barrier. Roasted meats with spirit herbs and other delicacies that Jiang Cheng could not even name. It smelt amazing. He could only imagine the amount of Qi in the dishes as well.

The outer sect's meal that night had been a slightly improved version of their usual fare. An extra ladle of meat in the stew, perhaps, but nothing more.

This time, he debated paying a contribution point for a bowl, but he decided against it. He would not even waste a single point.

Satiation pills were enough. He saw many outer disciples eating in the mess hall on the daily, and even more now. No wonder high value missions were taken the moment they were posted.

But all Cheng could think, was the waste. Why waste the previous contribution points from the missions.

Were satiation pills really that bad tasting? sure, they were bitter, and coated your tongue, but that was it. And they were free.

Was this some kind of test? a challenge? just to make sure those that spent their points frivolously like this, have it even harder saving up their points for actually useful stuff like pills?

Cheng imagined, Through the closed doors of the inner sect, was inner sect disciples receiving gifts from their masters and elders. Jade boxes containing cultivation resources, scrolls of advanced techniques, and in some cases, spiritual weapons that gleamed with power even at this distance.

He was sure they were all smiles and laughs.

In contrast, the outer sect disciples received nothing beyond an extra day of rest. No gifts, no special acknowledgment of their efforts throughout the year. Most didn't seem to mind, taking the opportunity to drink cheap wine in their quarters or visit the nearby village for simple pleasures.

It was really interesting. He could not understand it as much as he knew why they did this. Why waste points into alcohol? food?

The sect provided food. shelter. was that not enough?

Was he just different. Was he weird?

But Jiang Cheng did not join them. He stood at that boundary, observing and remembering. This was not envy. Envy was a useless emotion that consumed energy better spent on cultivation.

No, this was fuel for his determination. A reminder of the distance yet to travel, of the heights yet to climb.

"One day." he murmured to himself, staring at the inner sect's grand stone wall. "I will stand above them."

He turned away from the distant celebrations and returned to his cabin, sitting down to cultivate while the sounds of festivities echoed in the distance. The contrast only sharpened his focus. Let them celebrate. He would work.

Let them be happy. let them waste time. He will keep pressing forwards.

A few days after the New Year celebrations had concluded and the sect returned to its normal routines, Jiang Cheng found himself glancing at the mission board while returning from his morning duties.

Most outer disciples ignored any missions that were remotely dangerous, preferring to focus solely on cultivation rather than risk missions for relatively meager rewards.

After Jiang Cheng's experience with the jade mole, few were eager to volunteer for anything remotely dangerous, likely not wanting to go through something like that.

To cheng, they were just cowards. Sure, he hadn't really taken a mission himself, but he was building his foundations. To correct his errors. He learned a sword technique.

No longer was the sword more of a detterent.

But one notice caught his eye. Unlike the usual mission postings requesting disciples to gather herbs or patrol boundaries or whatever else, this one was different:

"Disciple needed for production of training weapons. Experience with woodworking preferred but not required. Duration: one month. Reward: 10 contribution points and four Qi gathering pills."

The notice had clearly been posted for several days, the edges of the paper beginning to curl. No one had claimed it. Likely because carving training weapons was seen as menial labor, beneath the dignity of even outer sect disciples, even though they had to perform manual labour every day.

Or perhaps, they though that such a mission was unbefitting of a cultivator.

Jiang Cheng stared at the posting, memories of his clumsy attempt to carve a wooden sword surfacing in his mind. The frustration of that moment, when his fingers had nearly lost a nail, the wooden branch refusing to take the shape he desired. It had been a small failure, but one that had rankled him nonetheless.

He had always believed that a true cultivator should be self-sufficient, capable of creating what they needed rather than relying on others. And hadn't his time in the sect taught him that foundations mattered most? What could be more fundamental than learning to craft one's own tools?

Without hesitation, Jiang Cheng tore the notice from the board and made his way to the administrative pavilion to register for the mission, his mind swirling with all sorts of thoughs.

The administrator, a middle-aged woman with graying hair tied severely back, raised an eyebrow when he presented the notice.

"This has been posted for nearly a week." she said, her brush poised over the register.

"Senior, this disciple wishes to accept this mission." Jiang Cheng replied evenly.

The woman's expression softened slightly. A unusual thing when it came to inner sect cultivators. perhaps the reason, was that she was a outer sect disciple herself at one point.

Jiang Cheng bowed and departed, a sense of anticipation building within him. This might not be a glamorous mission, but it would teach him a valuable skill. One that few other disciples would possess. And more importantly, this was for himself.

That evening, as he went through his usual sword practice behind his cabin, he regarded the wooden training sword in his hand with new interest. Soon, he would understand how such tools were crafted from raw materials properly.

And if he could master this humble skill, what else might he achieve through patience and determination?

Because he was Jiang Cheng. The outer disciple who had survived a jade mole attack, who had advanced from the sixth to the ninth stage of Qi Condensation in a single year, who watched the inner sect celebrations not with envy but with resolve.

He would forge his own path, craft his own weapons, and climb the mountain of cultivation one carefully placed step at a time.

Without a teacher to guide him, he would learn from observation and practice. Without abundant resources, he would make the most of what little he had. That was his way. That was his strength.

As night fell and he returned to his cabin for cultivation, Jiang Cheng felt a quiet certainty. This small mission, ignored by all others, might prove more valuable than he could imagine. Not for the reward of contribution points or even the pills. But for the knowledge it would impart. Knowledge that would serve him long after the memories of jade moles and wooden swords had faded.