Cultivation Nerd-Chapter 321 - Logical Discovery

I watched Jiang Yeming eat, keeping a soft, friendly smile on my face as she talked about everyday things.

She knew my family? The Liu Clan lived in the middle of nowhere, rarely visited. Even the few merchants who passed through were kept at arm’s length by the local powers, and no merchant would ever be received by clan members; at best, they’d speak with servants.

No matter how rich they were, money held far less weight here than in my old world. Especially when it came to my clan, which practiced blood elitism; no matter how skilled a merchant was, if they were not part of the clan, they would not be accepted by the family. They would not even meet with them.

Or perhaps she hadn’t meant my current family. She clearly came from the future, but was not close enough to future me to know everything.

Well, either way, the plan had worked. Or rather, my future self’s plan. Wu Yan was the perfect catalyst. No one was supposed to know about her, and when they saw her, they should not be too shocked unless they were a regressor. Especially now that she had reached Foundation Establishment with the element of Change. Nobody could sense what she truly was.

If I ever joined a famous group, I’d make her seem like the leader, a deliberate smokescreen. A vague plan, only to be enacted when the opportunity came.

And Jiang Yeming’s reaction… it confirmed almost everything. I was ninety-nine percent certain she was a regressor.

Not just from this one moment, but from a string of clues, like her reaction to Fu Yating and Wu Yan, whom she shouldn’t even know. She also usually had an air of quiet certainty, as if she possessed knowledge no one else had. The cultivation method she used that was about eight percent more efficient than standard. The way she reacted when I imbued the Falling Moon Claw Technique on a sword and taught it to Tingfeng. Her outburst when I pushed Tingfeng to realize his potential.

Each incident on its own could be explained away. But together, they painted a picture. She knew more than she should, and she didn’t have the demeanor of a reincarnated immortal.

That lingering one percent doubt? Just a margin of error and paranoia whispering that all this could still be a coincidence.

As I glanced at her, for a moment, the temptation stirred: knock her out, peel back her mind, confirm the truth. But logic killed the thought just as quickly. With the logistics and risks of doing such a thing, it wasn’t worth it.

First of all, I wasn’t morally opposed to mind reading. It could be a way to avoid death or guarantee the safety of those around me. But reading Jiang Yeming’s mind was likely very dangerous, and who knew what cultivation stage she might have reached in the future?

Even if her cultivation had regressed, her mental power likely hadn’t diminished nearly as much.

Jiang Yeming didn’t really give off the vibe of an immortal, but people changed with time. Not every immortal had to be a terrifying monster. Or perhaps the future held strange techniques that strengthened mental power in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

Either way, trying to pry into the mind of someone like her would be dangerous.

And honestly, I wasn’t that interested in the future. If the future me had tricked her, then what she knew might already be skewed. Worse, I could end up walking into the schemes of an immortal who knew I’d try to read her memories, feeding me false futures to act on.

It was a crazy assumption, but when it came to immortals, nothing seemed too wild. Every time, I had underestimated them, no matter how paranoid my guesses were.

“Do you guys have any training scheduled today?” I asked.

“No,” Jiang Yeming said, answering for both of them.

I turned toward Tingfeng, but he just shrugged, looking uninterested.

“I’ve thought of a new way to train recently, and I want to see how much it helps you. It should make learning new techniques easier and conserve Qi,” I told them.

Qi control wasn’t a foreign concept here, but it wasn’t trained directly. It typically developed through practicing techniques and was then refined in real combat, where control became second nature due to the split focus between fighting and execution.

That was the basic breakdown I’d been studying.

I led my students outside, into the yard, where the grass grew lush and greener than the newborn blades sprouting beyond the array.

Fu Yating and Wu Yan watched from the porch with curious gazes. Wu Yan, though, looked as if she had already guessed what I planned to teach. After all, this was one of the many methods we had tried to improve her Qi control, since she had always struggled to learn techniques.

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I glanced at the surroundings outside the array. The newborn grass glistened with dew from last night’s soft rain.

The heavenly calamity had burned everything to the roots, leaving the grounds barren. But the sect had worked tirelessly with Cai Hu, my teacher, who developed a weaker but wide-ranging sect-covering array that forcefully regrew grass across the mountain.

That was something Zun Gon had personally ordered, though no one spoke of it openly. Not because it was secret, but because those higher up saw no advantage in sharing it.

Leadership often came down to countless small decisions like this.

Seeing the grass “naturally” sprouting might even give some the illusion that a rebirth was happening within the sect, that things were on the path back to normal.

Or perhaps I was just overthinking it.

“Keep your eyes open, and make sure to see every small detail. Etch it into your minds,” I told my students.

I spread my palm out as if about to use a palm technique. The gesture was mostly symbolic; honestly, it just looked cooler than standing there stiffly.

Eerie dark Qi pooled around my body, clinging to my skin like tar before swirling in slow, deliberate circles, thick as inky water. The air grew colder with every breath, as if the world itself recoiled. Then, like the stretching limbs of some unseen beast, dark tendrils unfurled from me, each one infused with killing intent so sharp it felt as though the space itself might tear.

Tingfeng frowned and instinctively leapt back a couple dozen feet, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow.

“What is that?” he asked.

Jiang Yeming, on the other hand, looked more surprised than afraid, as if shocked that something like this had appeared earlier than the timeline she carried in her head.

“I call this technique Tendrils of Darkness,” I said.

It looked terrifying, and the name was admittedly a bit edgy, but this was still a work in progress, mainly so I could study Jiang Yeming’s reaction.

“This is more Qi control than anything. But generating killing intent at the same time trains the mind to do two things at once, slowly turning Qi control into second nature,” I explained, then demonstrated further, showing them how to attempt it themselves.

Of course, part of the lesson involved teaching the proper mindset for generating killing intent.

Tingfeng picked up the killing intent part easily, and his was even more potent than mine. He managed to form two tendrils at once, which was impressive, though I had expected more from him. He kept trying for a third, but each attempt caused the others to crumble. Even the two he maintained wobbled precariously.

“This is a rather useless technique in itself, but it’s excellent training for Qi control. Even if it becomes easy, just push further and create more tendrils,” I told them.

Jiang Yeming, however, took to it far more smoothly than her fellow disciple. She conjured eighteen tendrils of darkness, steadily working toward a nineteenth. She’d likely achieve it by the end of the month.

It was impressive, and she could nearly form a quarter of my maximum number of tendrils. It would have been extraordinary… if she weren’t a regressor.

Still, I clapped and smiled despite my inner thoughts.

“This is very impressive from the both of you,” I said.

Tingfeng frowned, dispelled his technique, and lowered his head in shame. Good. He wasn’t fooled by empty compliments. Watching Jiang Yeming’s performance would drive him to train harder.

“Train by yourself a bit more, and you should get it down too,” I said to Tingfeng.

He nodded, and there was a strange glint in his eyes that reassured me he wasn’t going to slack on training.

“I actually know a person who naturally generates killing intent in this shape,” I added, explaining the inspiration for this version of the technique. “Hers is even scarier, and she doesn’t use Qi at all to forcefully spread it.”

“Really?” Tingfeng’s frown melted, and he leaned forward. “Who is she?”

“Obviously, Song Song,” Jiang Yeming said before I could answer. “She has a natural talent for murder, so her killing intent is quite potent. Even though teacher Feng did a good job, that kind of killing intent is impossible to copy. That mindset is something you’re born with.”

She had seen a version of this when she came to the sect, and Song Song and Ye An fought at the front gates. But at the time, Tingfeng had not even been a Qi Gathering Cultivator, and couldn't see the effects of Qi.

“I’ve actually been semi-successful at copying it,” I said, half-joking. “Let me show you a bit.”

I activated my Foundation Establishment Technique, slowing my thoughts, granting myself more time.

I closed my eyes, releasing the cold, calculated logic that usually dictated my choices. One by one, I recalled every person who had wronged me, and with each memory I tore away the restraint that kept my hands clean. I stripped away reason, allowing my raw instincts to surface.

Song San, who tried to poison me and twist my mind into a puppet’s strings. Ye An, who hunted an innocent girl, her hands drenched in the blood of the defenseless, who had sought Song Song’s death and even tried to kill me when we first met. Song Song’s father, who wished to seize her body, who had tortured her as a child, forcing her to consume her own mother. The sect leaders that were circling the Blazing Sun Sect like vultures, probing its borders, eager to tear it apart.

The heavens themselves. And the former sect leader, whose failure had led to the deaths of Xin Ma and Shan Sha!

I wanted them all dead! I wanted their blood to soak the earth! I wanted to see the moment their arrogance shattered into regret!

I wanted to kill everyone who stood in my way!

With my thoughts accelerated, it became easier to bottle up the negativity. Song Song might have the edge in quality, as her killing intent was born in actual maliciousness, but I had quantity.

I forced an overwhelming tide of malice into existence, condensing a nearly impossible amount of killing intent in moments. It rivaled Song Song’s technique, though my method was far more mentally draining and artificial, where hers was natural.

The sky dimmed, shadows creeping like ink across the horizon. My killing intent surged outward in a tidal wave, making the air so heavy it froze Jiang Yeming and Tingfeng in place.