Cultivation Nerd

Xin Ma stared at the scroll on his desk as morning broke, and disciples began entering through the front doors.

Despite the situation he found himself in, he had slept rather well. He was never the type to lose sleep over trivial drama. Still, if he were being honest, Liu Feng's behavior troubled him.

Usually, Liu Feng was an understanding young man who grasped the world better than most of his peers. Xin Ma often saw him as a younger version of himself. Yet, he had to admit that Liu Feng had shown himself more capable, having successfully published the Monstrous Beast Encyclopedia and navigating inner sect politics impressively well for someone so young and inexperienced.

Xin Ma's gaze rarely left the scroll, even as disciples approached him with questions about books or what they needed to find. Some were timid, others more confident; a few treated him like just another servant, addressing him with condescending airs. The latter group wouldn't survive long as cultivators. Xin Ma might have offered them advice in his younger years, but now, he let it pass. After all, he didn't care to waste time on lessons their parents should have taught them long ago.

No matter how hard he tried to focus on the scroll, his mind drifted to the time Liu Feng spent in the outer sect library.

Liu Feng had never been a forceful person.

Yet, he had played his hand decisively, imposing his will on others. Whether Xin Ma liked it or not, Liu Feng was determined to help him.

It wasn't that he held a grudge. In fact, Xin Ma was touched by Liu Feng's commitment. But it also revealed the bad influences shaping the young man.

And that bad influence was the girl who accompanied him... Song Song.

As his thoughts wandered, another working day passed. When the last disciples left, Shan Sha appeared, carrying a cup of tea.

Despite frequently criticizing Liu Feng when he was still an outer disciple, the old man himself was never one to make tea for others unless asked.

"What has you so deep in thought?" the old man asked, dragging a chair across the rough stone floor. The screech of wood scraping against the ground was irritating. However, that might be because he was having a rather irritating day.

"Nothing much," Xin Ma replied.

It was a lie. Xin Ma had been thinking a lot about Liu Feng and how to handle the situation the kid had put him in. Perhaps many of his colleagues would have rejoiced if their disciple had done something like this for them. Still, Xin Ma approached the matter with a more rational eye.

He wanted to become an inner elder mainly to pursue the slim chance of breaking through to Core Formation. Of course, there were other reasons too—like proving something to those "friends" of his who had kept him stuck in his current position. He also craved the respect that came with being an inner elder.

But Xin Ma was not blind to reality—he knew his body wasn't as young as it used to be. He had already sponged as much knowledge as he could about his element. Perhaps there was still room to grow into a Level 5 Array Conjurer. Still, the skills he had once trained with such passion in his youth, which seemed so promising, were now nothing more than distant memories—the very cause of why he had ended up in this place.

A tense silence settled between them as the old man stared at him, slurping his tea in that irritating way. In the eerie stillness of the library, the sound of slurping was the only thing anyone could hear.

To break the monotonous quiet, Xin Ma finally spoke. "It would be pointless to waste a Tier 6 recipe just to secure an invitation to become an inner sect elder."

"You've still got seventy or eighty years left," the old goat shrugged. "There's a good chance you could still break through to Core Formation. You should be more like that brat. He might be an incredible thug who never learned an ounce of respect for his elders, but you can tell by the look in his eyes that he'll do whatever he pleases. In many ways, he only cares what he thinks of himself and doesn't bother with other people's opinions. He is very selfish."

"What you're describing is a pretty exaggerated version of Liu Feng," Xin Ma replied, removing his glasses and wiping them clean with a white silk cloth. "I don't think someone who just gave away a Tier 6 Alchemy Recipe can be fairly described as selfish."

"In its own way, that is his brand of selfishness," the old goat grinned. "Whether it's out of some misguided sense of justice or whatever, that kid's going to make you an inner elder—whether you want it or not."

"That is the annoying part. I'm happy that Liu Feng is so grateful and willing to go so far for me. However, I'm worried he is losing sight of his main goal. A cultivator should always be looking out for himself first and foremost," Xin Ma said, picking up the scroll with the Tier 6 Alchemy Recipe and slipping it into his bronze storage ring. "But he's misunderstanding something. Perhaps I should teach him a lesson he's forgotten: the world often does not bend to anyone's whims. Also, everyone can be selfish."

With that said Xin Ma calmly walked over to one of the corners of the counter he had worked behind for so many years. The tall wooden half-wall counter covered him up to his hips and was filled with compartments on his side. He left the place that had been his post for so long and made his way toward the library's entrance.

"I'll be away for a while," Xin Ma called out.

The old man raised a questioning brow but merely shrugged. Though he played it cool, his curious gaze revealed his interest in seeing how this would unfold.

But Xin Ma had no time to entertain an old man sipping tea. He had to ensure the arrays were configured so the main defensive systems wouldn't fail the moment he left. Most of the arrays were inscriptions that would remain active even in his absence. However, if they didn't detect his Qi for over ten minutes, the library pagoda's defense systems would automatically engage.

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Before stepping outside, Xin Ma couldn't help but glance back at the large stone tower—the very place that had imprisoned his soul, mind, and ambitions for all these years. The place didn't look like anything special on the outside.

Despite his complaints, Xin Ma knew that, in many ways, he had been lucky.

His colleagues, even inner elders, had perished during beast waves or other catastrophes. As the librarian, he had been spared from participating in wars.

He shook his head, letting those somber thoughts fade, and withdrew a sword from his storage ring. The old blade was rusted, almost as if it had been left to rot in the rain, long abandoned.

Yet, despite its battered appearance, the weapon floated gracefully, moving around Xin Ma like a dragon in flight. This was the same sword he had wielded since his days as a poor disciple. After becoming the librarian, he sold his other flying sword, finding little use for it since he rarely left the library. He had been optimistic, thinking every spirit stone would count toward his next breakthrough. He believed his path would clear, like so many stories of cultivators who easily triumphed over hardship.

But Xin Ma didn't linger in those memories. With practiced ease, he leaped onto the sword. A familiar sensation washed over him, and for a brief moment, he felt like a young man again, soaring beneath the starry sky.

The air trembled around him as he shot toward the heart of the Sect faster than any arrow. The wind whipped against his uniform and stung his face, the cold biting at his eyes. But Xin Ma didn't use Qi to protect himself, nor did he slow down. Instead, he pushed ahead faster.

His gaze drifted upward toward the stars—those distant, blazing orbs—and the moon, almost full, bathed him in its silvery light.

For a fleeting second, the old, wisened librarian felt a spark of rebellion. The thought of walking away from all of this crossed his mind. The chances of advancing further in his cultivation were slim, after all. He could simply vanish, fly far enough that not even the Blazing Sun Sect could find him.

He was already at an age where mortals would be considered grandfathers. Yet, he had always devoted himself to cultivation for all his years. Though he had experienced the warmth of waking up beside a woman, he had never known the comfort of a lover whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He had never cradled his own child in his arms. He had never had the chance to live…

Xin Ma shook his head, banishing the thoughts before they could fester. He was, and always would be, a cultivator. It was his nature, his fate. He had been born for this path, one in a thousand. If that wasn't a sign of destiny, what was?

His internal turmoil subsided as he arrived at the gates that divided the inner and outer sects. Two drowsy young men, one tall and one short, stood guard with swords in hand. They wore blue uniforms, marking them as inner disciples, though their attire was wrinkled and unkempt. A smudge of dirt even marred one of the disciple's calves.

They had likely been training before their guard shift. Xin Ma remembered the days when he, too, had stood guard. Every inner disciple had to do it at least once or twice. However, there were always exceptions, like Liu Feng, who quickly drew attention and was placed under Song Song's care.

The Sect knew when to cut its losses in situations like this. Song Song would likely return the messenger's head back on a platter if they sent a disciple to call Liu Feng for guard duty.

She was a bad influence on Liu Feng, but even bad influences had their benefits.

"Honorable elder, we welcome you to the inner sect," the taller disciple said, nudging his friend, who hastily straightened up and echoed the greeting.

Their eyes lingered a bit too long on Xin Ma's sword to be considered respectful. The fatigue clouding their minds must have affected their manners.

Despite their formalities, Xin Ma could tell the young men didn't mean the respect they tried to show. They were used to seeing inner elders come and go. In their eyes, an outer elder was almost the worst thing they could encounter—the worst being sent to some no-name city to serve as its governor.

The eyes never lied. That was why Xin Ma liked wearing glasses; it made it harder for others to tell if he was being truthful or not.

Without a word, he glided past the disciples, remaining on his sword. Then, with a surge of Qi, he sped off again at breakneck speed. His Foundation Establishment-enhanced vision allowed him to easily track his surroundings and react to any obstacles in time. However, the sword beneath him, cheap and rusted, had reached its maximum speed.

Before long, he arrived at a grand palace wrapped in more layers of arrays than he could count. Few people were around, which wasn't surprising given the late hour.

Even with his hawk-like vision, the beauty of the purple palace was hard to appreciate at night. During the day, it was a stunning sight—lush vegetation of vibrant colors framed walls that shimmered like rainbows in the sunlight. But now, under the pale moonlight, its splendor was muted.

He dismounted his flying sword as he passed through the array barriers, landing softly without a sound on the grass. With a swift gesture, he stored the rusted blade and briefly considered buying a new one.

A man emerged as he approached the large building in the palace, the only place still lit at this hour. The man had three fat folds under his chin, a bald head marked by a mole shaped like a coffin, and a broad grin that revealed three golden teeth on the left side of his upper jaw.

Though clearly overweight, Pang Zhu’s attire—dark and well-tailored—concealed much of his bulk, making him appear slimmer than he actually was.

“Xin Ma! Long time no see, old friend!” Pang Zhu called out. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’d have prepared a feast in your honor.”

Pang Zhu was a large man who exuded the aura of someone corrupt, the kind of person who could be easily bought if one needed something done under the table.

But despite his questionable nature, Pang Zhu generally kept to himself, staying neutral in most matters. Once, he had been known as a handsome man in his youth, though his charm faded quickly whenever he spoke. Suffice it to say, he was not a ladies’ man.

“There’s no need for a feast,” Xin Ma replied, preferring not to disturb the servants. “I’m here to submit a Tier 6 Alchemy Formula as a contribution to the Sect.”

Pang Zhu’s smile vanished, his eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re not joking, right? Have you developed a sense of humor in your old age?”

Xin Ma brushed off the remark. “No, I haven’t. Now, can you notify someone? Or shall I let someone else take credit for delivering this?”

“No, no, don’t worry about it!” Pang Zhu hurriedly closed his eyes, and the air around them shimmered as the arrays shifted and swirled, like a child playing in mud along a riverbank. “They’ll be here soon. This is the kind of thing the Sect Leader might get involved in.”

“I know,” Xin Ma said calmly.

Pang Zhu regained his composure, but an awkward silence settled between them. His mind seemed preoccupied, leaving little room for conversation. The silence felt stifling, amplified by the absence of animals or insects within the Sect.

“So… how’s your love life been?” Pang Zhu blurted out, in a poor attempt to break the silence.

This guy... Even after all these years, he still had the knack for putting his foot in his mouth.

How did someone with so little social tact manage to land this position?