What do you mean I'm a cultivator?-Chapter 42

With his return to the sect, Cheng resumed his familiar routine.

Mornings were spent performing menial tasks, his body moving on autopilot as his mind mulled over the fragment’s mysteries.

Afternoons were divided between poring over ancient texts in the Tower of Records and working under Master Liu, refining his skills in woodworking and forging. The days blurred together, yet the fragment never left his thoughts. Each night, he meditated with it in his grasp, feeling the subtle hum of Lightning Qi thrumming within.

One evening, as the forge’s embers crackled softly, Master Liu observed him from his seat, arms crossed. After a long silence, the old craftsman finally spoke.

“That sword of yours.” he said, his tone casual, but his gaze sharp. “Did it serve you well?”

Cheng’s hands stilled over the blade he was polishing. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he ran a finger along the sword’s edge, recalling the battle, the blood, the moment when his blade found flesh.

“How did you know?” he finally asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Master Liu exhaled through his nose, picking up a hammer and inspecting its worn grip. “Your eyes, boy.” he said. “They look like ones that have seen death.”

A heavy silence settled between them. The flickering flames cast long shadows across the workshop, their glow highlighting the deep lines on the master’s face. Cheng looked down at the weapon in his hands, the metal gleaming under the firelight.

“It did what it needed to do.” Cheng spoke, his hand polishing the sword.

Master Liu nodded. “Good.”

Master Liu set the hammer down and leaned back, his gaze never leaving Cheng. "And what of you? Did you do what you needed to do?"

Cheng’s fingers tightened around the cloth in his hands. The rhythmic polishing motion ceased for a moment before he resumed, slower this time. "I survived."

Master Liu hummed in response, neither approving nor condemning. "Survival is only the first step."

Cheng knew that well. It sat in his chest, pressing down with each quiet moment.

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Sure, he survived, but he had been injured. Not only that, his want to conserve Qi only ended up costing him more in the long term.

"The first time is always the hardest." Master Liu continued, his voice softer now. "It changes you, whether you want it to or not. But you’re still here, and that means you have a choice."

Cheng finally looked up, meeting his master’s steady gaze. "A choice?"

Master Liu nodded. "To let it break you or temper you. Steel is made strong through heat and pressure. A blade that shatters was never meant to last."

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Cheng absorbed the words, their meaning settling into the depths of his mind. He glanced at his sword once more, its edge sharp, hidden under its scabbard, resting comfortably up on a wooden shelf.

The sword bore the marks of its forging, just as he bore the marks of his own choices.

“I understand.” he said finally.

Months passed quietly. Cheng spent his mornings as before, performing menial tasks, but his afternoons took on a new intensity. He buried himself in the Tower of Records, focused more on manuals of swordplay, footwork, and fighting. His nights were split between cultivation and practicing his learned moves, a shift from his usual.

Typically, no matter what, nights were for cultivation. But now, he understood perfectly that he was lacking in combat knowledge.

The fragment continued helping on these nights he cultivated, providing more Qi. He had sensed that his connection to it had been deepening, its gathering speed growing. It even started gathering Qi on its own, passively, its subtle tingling Qi a reminder of the mysteries that still hid deep within it.

One morning, as he stretched his sore limbs after an intense training session the night before, his gaze drifted toward the mission board.

He could not remain in the safety of the sect forever. But then again, his second mission led to his near death. His third time, once again, to near death. But it had proved fruitful.

Cheng now understood that real growth came through experience.

He scanned the board, eyes flicking over various assignments until they settled on one. A hunt for creatures lurking in the nearby forest. The reward was twenty contribution points and three gathering pills.

It brought to his attention that he still did not know lots of things. What would they do with the corpses? The meat? the fur?

He wanted to know. But learning such would take time from more important knowledge, laying deep within the tower.

It wasn’t the most dangerous mission by far, but it was enough.

Enough to test himself once more. Enough to see if he had truly started changing himself. He didn't want to become complacent again, thinking that he could comfortably rise up the stages and break through with no problems.

Cheng reached out, plucking the mission paper from the board. His path forward was clear.

Before setting out, Cheng made his way to the Outer Pavilion to gather supplies. He carefully selected a dozen satiation pills, trying to sense with his Qi the best ones among them, a waterskin, a few bandages, in case of injury, and whatever else he may need, including a knife.

This time, he made sure to get whatever he thought of, now knowing that missing even one of them, be it something like a knife, could spell problems, or more. If the satchel he picked up in his first mission did not contain a knife, perhaps then he would have never thought about carving.

His path would be completely different.

With his pack secured and his sword strapped to his side, Cheng left the outer sect grounds, following the path detailed in the mission scroll. He trekked down the huge stone steps and set off.

The forest lay beyond a winding dirt road, its towering trees casting long shadows as the afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, mingling with the distant calls of unseen beasts.

As he neared the forest’s edge, he paused beneath a sturdy tree, reaching into his satchel for the knife. With a practiced swipe, he sliced through a low hanging branch, letting the wood rest in his palm. He turned it over, testing its weight, before slowly carving into it with methodical precision.

No time wasted around here. Cheng muttered as he entered. Sure, it might be stupid to divert part of his focus to carving, but the mission said that the strongest monsters roaming around here, at most, would be in the mid stage of Qi condensation.

The act was familiar, grounding. His hands worked instinctively, shaping the wood into something yet undefined.

The rhythmic scrape of blade against wood filled the quiet, blending with the rustling leaves as the wind whispered through the trees. When the carving finally began to take form, a small little cross, Cheng exhaled softly, tucking it into his pouch. With one last glance at the sky, he stepped into the forest, ready for whatever awaited him within.