Cultivation Nerd: Chapter 3 (Patreon)

Chapter 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 maybe 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 every now and then to take a 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 even I would get tired walking up and down those, 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 for old people in general who have to work laborious jobs even after their retirement age. 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 some help when they can. Oh, and I was also hoping to learn a thing or two 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."

Well, I didn't get slapped into a fleshy smudge, so that was a win for now.

I turned around and started walking down the stairs, and halfway down, it became clear that this was going to be a bit tiring, even for me.

...

By the time I returned, the old man was still swiping around the same place, and I had a wooden cup of tea with a small cover above it. Fortunately, since I was running, it didn't take me even ten minutes to get back 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 gave it a sniff. 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 just 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 live for a thousand years and spend 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 was also viewing things from a cultivator's perspective.

I turned toward the old man and was surprised to see 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 that 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.

The old man shrugged, "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 took a sip of his tea, clearly dismissing my compliments as useless comments.

"Well, let me tell you. The current way of cultivation has been perfected through tens of thousands of years by our ancestors and hasn't changed for thousands of years," he looked at the sky as if recalling a distant memory.

That... didn't make sense. I understood that cultivation had been optimized, but by 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 a bit 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. Maybe immunity to fire could be real, even if it contradicted everything I knew about physics and biology from my previous world.

But that was the most exciting part of this whole thing—figuring it out.

Although I might need to change my mindset regarding how I perceive the world and even the laws of physics themselves.

"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." With a final clack, the old man put the empty wooden teacup down. "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 that 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 try things like, "I might be curious, but I'm not dumb."

"That might be so, but I can tell that you're different from others," the old man turned toward him.

"Different? How so?"

"By now, a lot of 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 had no talent or little 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, so 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 stood up and started 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, all 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 a lot of expeditions outside throughout his lifetime, and those were the things I was dreading as some were mandatory. No rule in the world 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 wasn't the case 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 the 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. Generally, the area was 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 for a few moments, 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!

No, I must 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, winding my fist back once more.

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 my fist twisted, forming a small twister that resembled 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.

In the end, I stared with my mouth 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 it was so incredible!

The tree fell to the ground, and I found myself in a trance, staring at it for a couple of 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 quite 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 Grade

Earth Grade

Sky Grade

Heaven Grade

Piercing Fang Fist belonged to the Mortal Grade, the weakest category. Something you could even buy in the market with a bit of luck.

Mortal Grade techniques were considered attainable by normal people, yet it was still so 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, but 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 continued to slap me or obstruct my vision. That's when I realized something crucial. "The hair has to go."

The original Liu Feng cherished his hair, but it would be a hindrance in 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 he always did, but at least today had been a bit 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 had quickly become 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 had a smile on his face as he took a seat 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.

In certain areas of the sect, such as the library and its surroundings, having cleaners posed a security risk. Instead, the Sect employed an Inscription Master to create cleaning arrays and similar solutions.

Moreover, having an old man undertake strenuous work posed its own security risk. Fatigued individuals were more susceptible to bribes or external influences seeking to exploit them for personal gain.

There had been numerous instances of such incidents in the past, and the Blazing Sun Sect wouldn't have risen to become one of the most powerful sects in the White Tiger Continent by being careless.

The only reason the old man was still around, performing "cleaning" duties, was because he had nothing else to do in his old age. He had long since given up on his cultivation and now only wished to spend his remaining days in relaxation.

"Huh, what kind of brat could make even an annoying fellow like you fond of them?" Xin Ma cracked a smile. He knew how difficult it was to like the old man, Shan Sha, who was far too grumpy.

"Hey! I can be nice when I want to. It's just that young people nowadays lack the patience to earn someone's respect," the old man grumbled.

Even though they didn't look like it, many people in the Blazing Sun Sect were old. But among all the older people Xin Ma knew, this old man was the grumpiest.

Yet despite his prickly personality, old Shan would never talk behind your back. If he had something to say about you, he'd say it to your face—much better than those scheming elders in the Inner Sect who pretended to be friends and stabbed you in the back with smiles on their faces.

"Still, won't the Acceptance Trial take place soon? Hopefully, there won't be any exceptionally talented new juniors. Since he's still far from eighteen years old, he can enter the Inner Sect as long as he wins the tournament next year," Xin Ma suggested.

"Meh, the brat isn't the type to be deterred by something like that. From what I've seen, he doesn't seem to care about such matters. As long as he reaches Qi Gathering before the age of twenty, he'll be able to enter the Inner Sect that way," the old man shrugged and adjusted his chair.

For some reason, the old man believed this youngster would make it. Well, Xin Ma wished the young man good luck.

Entering the Qi Gathering Realm before the age of twenty without external aid was hard, as it was a well-known bottleneck in cultivation...