Cultivation Nerd: Chapter 31 (Patreon)

Chapter 31 - Dark Letters

I dashed through the maze of trees, fixating on the tower in the distance while the full moon illuminated my path. Upon reaching the front yard of the library tower, I halted, scanning for any potential ambushes. Finding none, the weight of the tension finally lifted off my shoulder as I stepped inside the library.

The librarian and the old man were still there, whispering to each other. Despite my usual ability to eavesdrop, their words eluded my hearing.

Was it the result of some sort of array?

The librarian turned towards me, removing his glasses to clean the lenses. "You are safe here. However, elders cannot meddle in student conflicts."

Normally, the old janitor would have reminded me that the library should have closed by now. Yet he remained unusually silent, his gaze fixed on me until a smile crept onto his face. "How was it? Did you have fun testing your skills against a superior opponent?"

"What kind of guy do you think I am, old man?" I retorted.

My sole intention in confronting the adversary was to demonstrate the high cost of challenging me. It seemed logical that after such a display, he would reconsider his actions. Even in Xianxia settings, bullies typically backed down when faced with potential danger.

Yet, this guy had a blend of stubborn arrogance and vindictive spirit.

"Of course, you're the kind of crazy guy who would risk his life to improve his techniques," the old man regarded me as if I were the anomaly.

"Why would I ever do reckless shit like that?"

"I don't know. How am I supposed to fathom the mind of a training freak?" he quipped.

That's how he saw me?

I massaged my temples, suppressing the urge to argue with the old guy.

"Shouldn't the sect intervene in such matters?" I gestured to my bruised arm. "I have the injuries to prove it."

"Unless someone dies, the sect views it as a mere exchange of pointers between senior and junior disciples," the librarian clarified.

"To put it bluntly, they prioritize logic over justice," the old janitor interjected. "Consider this. Whom would they value more? A mediocre outer disciple or an inner disciple? Why jeopardize the loyalty of the latter to appease the former?"

"Because allowing the strong to oppress the weak breeds chaos and eventual rebellion," I reasoned.

It was a matter of common sense that unchecked power only led to upheaval and dissent. There was a reason why monarchies were rarely a thing anymore in my previous world.

As the janitor stared at me with confusion, a revelation dawned upon me, completing the puzzle.

The concept of strength here wasn't merely rooted in political influence; it was tangible power. If the outer disciples dared to rebel, it would take only a handful of Foundation Establishment elders to quell the uprising. Similarly, any friction among Foundation Establishment elders could be swiftly crushed by the Sect Leader or Core Elders. Their authority was backed by sheer might.

"If you were more talented, the sect might make an exception. However, if you were talented, you would have been in the inner sect or a personal disciple of an elder. But if that was the case, problems like the one you are in right now would never even come up," the old janitor explained, his tone matter-of-fact.

In simpler terms, it was like an affair in the workplace between the manager and secretary. Where the secretary would be fired because they would be easier to replace.

"So... I'm trapped either way," I remarked, surprisingly composed.

My only conceivable escape route seemed to be advancing rapidly to become a Qi Gathering disciple, an endeavor impossible to achieve in mere days.

"Not necessarily," the old janitor's smile held a hint of intrigue. "Do you have any relatives in the sect?"

"Yes," I had completely overlooked them.

"Do you maintain a good relationship with them?" he inquired, his question implying that their status within the sect was assumed to be higher.

It struck me how he didn't specify whether they belonged to the inner or outer sect, suggesting he already knew the dynamics. Despite my suspicions, I chose to trust his intentions.

"I'm not very close to them. They belong to the generation before mine," I admitted, inwardly chastising Liu Feng for his lack of social skills. He should have made an effort to connect with our relatives.

The old man sighed. "Then write a cordial letter to them. They may be inclined to help you."

"Would they confront an inner disciple with ties to an elder?" I questioned.

"It depends on whether they prioritize their honor over potential consequences," he replied.

However, another obstacle loomed. "How does that help with my current predicament?"

The old man rubbed his forehead. "Kid, what do you know about inner sect politics and your clan's dynamics?"

"Very little," I conceded.

Pretending to understand matters beyond my grasp had proven disastrous in my past life.

"Well, let's consider this scenario. If you are mistreated here and your sect members fail to intervene, what message does that convey?" The old man's expression was akin to speaking to a child. "It suggests that anyone from the Liu Clan is fair game without consequences. It's a bad reputation, as it encourages troublemakers. One troublemaker is manageable, but many are a problem."

He could have simplified it by saying cultivators prioritized saving face above all else. While it might not align with how I would have dealt with things, I understood the essence of it.

In a world where face-saving was paramount, wouldn't constant escalation be inevitable? Wouldn't it be wiser for the conflicting parties to apologize and end the dispute without further drama, sparing lives and injuries?

But alas, this was a xianxia world—a realm of murderhobos.

What did I truly understand? Perhaps their approach was the most effective within their cultural context. Different worlds, different norms; maybe they comprehended their reality better than I, a mere outsider.

"How will this letter reach the inner sect?" I queried as the librarian handed me a note and a thin brush.

"Are you bent on asking more needless questions?" The old man arched a skeptical brow.

Shaking off trivial queries driven by curiosity, I wrote a sincere letter. I ensured it was meticulously polite, explaining the circumstances leading to this dilemma.

"Is there a risk of interception?" I voiced my concern.

"If you're worried about revealing your reward, your relatives might be the least of your concerns," the old man chuckled, gesturing towards the librarian. "This man has connections to the inner sect and has agreed to deliver your missive."

The bewilderment must have been evident on my face, prompting the old man's explanation. "I simply presented him with an opportunity that aligned with his interests."

Wasn't that persuasion with added complexity?

I nodded in acquiescence, maintaining my silence as I finished the letter. The librarian deftly folded it into an origami and infused it with his breath.

Suddenly, the origami's wings began to twitch, and the paper flapped its wings, soaring out of the library's door like a bullet toward the higher reaches of the mountain where the inner sect resided.

I blinked and made sure I was not seeing things. But for now, I kept my mouth shut and my eyes at the entrance, waiting for a certain inner disciple to appear.

Minutes passed, yet no inner disciple appeared. Finally, breaking the silence, I turned to the two older men. "Can anyone explain why that just happened?"

"If you explain why you went outside the sect, perhaps," the old man shrugged.

He was clearly joking here, but I saw no reason to hide something like this.

"I went to buy a turtle..." I muttered, the absurdity of the situation dawning on me.

Had this entire sequence of events unfolded because of my quest for a turtle? Fuck me... it really had.

"Yeah..." the old man winced for some reason. He cast uneasy glances around while the librarian shot him a glare.

What was that about?

The librarian sighed, removing his glasses to clean the lenses. His expression softened, a tinge of remorse in his eyes as he regarded me. "You've become entangled in an unfortunate chain of affairs."

He sighed, shooting another glare at the old man, who recoiled. Then, adjusting his glasses, the librarian focused on me once more. "This time, I will make an exception. Tomorrow, I will post a job offer in the Mission Hall. I will need an assistant in the library. The pay will be minimal, just one spirit stone a year. Any applicant will discover that the position has already been filled by you. The only real perk of this job is that the assistant can spend nights in the library."

Reading between the lines, I grasped his implication. However, I felt like this came out of nowhere, and asked to confirm, "Are you offering me accommodation here for the night?"

This meant I could seek refuge in the library until the metaphorical storm blew over. For a moment, I questioned my hearing, as this decision displayed clear favoritism toward me. Despite occasionally turning a blind eye, the librarian was typically impartial. However, this gesture was undeniably biased.

"Yes," the librarian confirmed. "You found yourself embroiled in... unfortunate circumstances. It seems you inadvertently stumbled into some inner sect politics. Recently, some of the elders' offspring or grandchildren were released, prompting opposing factions to call for surveillance on these individuals. Your involvement was merely collateral in their power plays."

In the grand scheme of things, I was merely a stray piece caught in a much larger game, likely alongside many other outer disciples. I was not even a pawn, I was completely outside the playing board.

All because I wanted to buy a turtle. I began to question whether stumbling upon the Turtle Shell Body technique was luck or sheer misfortune.

Nevertheless, despite the chaos, acquiring the Turtle Shell Body technique had been a boon, and having Speedy by my side was reassuring.

Yet, the gravity of the situation was such that even the old man refrained from pointing out the blatant favoritism shown by the librarian.

Oddly, the librarian appeared irked with Shan Sha.

Had something happened between them? They usually had an amicable relationship.

The librarian turned toward me and handed me a talisman written in green ink, "Here, this will help you heal from the injuries. It will last about a week, so make sure to keep it on you at all times."

I stared at the talisman and flipped it around before placing it on my arm.

"This is inscription-level arrays, right? I didn't know you could use arrays to heal," I said.

The librarian nodded, "Usually, it isn't used for that. But Array Conjurers can be versatile. There are Array Conjurers who specialize in creating large-scale recovery arrays in Healing Halls."