Cultivation Nerd-Chapter 326 - An Inheritance Of Rot

I looked around the dusty room. This place looked like it had been abandoned for a while. In one corner was an object that looked like a mirror, except its surface was rippling like a swirling pot of black ink. On a different corner stood a rotten shelf sagging under the weight of ruined books, and in the middle of the room was an empty table.

Another table farther back had the skeletal remains of someone long gone, its bony fingers curled inward as if still clinging to something.

I had entered after copying the precise sequence of touches Jiang Yeming had made against the wall outside. A clever security mechanism and hidden well enough that without spying on Jiang Yeming, I never would’ve discovered this place.

I moved to the shelves, brushing dust from the nearest book. The pages crumbled at the edges, and the ink smudged and faded so much that it barely looked like someone had written anything there. Still, a few words were readable enough to guess their meaning. Before I ruined them further, I slid the entire collection into my storage ring. Better to study them later under some stasis array than risk destroying what little was left in those books.

What kind of guy didn’t even try to put some arrays as protection on the books to stop them from decaying?

I circled the room, running my fingers along the walls. There were no doors, no windows, and no exits and no entrances in this place.

Did this place even have ventilation? Or was that skeleton on the table the unlucky fool who hadn’t considered that detail when making this place?

My gaze returned to the mirror-like object. It pulsed faintly, the surface writhing like stirred ink. I stood before it, watching as it rippled without touch, like it was alive and waiting.

Well, that was creepy.

Since I cultivated a space-related Sky Grade technique, I recognized the distortion. The mirror felt spatial in nature. A gateway, most likely.

Now that I thought about it, perhaps I should develop a sensory technique to detect spatial fluctuations. Theoretically it wasn’t that hard, but it was hard to create a technique like that that could be used by everyone.

Something to alert me to teleportation arrays or space-bending artifacts would be nice. After all, it would be a damn shame to get murked by some teleporting assassin.

I extended my hand and pressed my palm against the mirror. To my surprise, there was no resistance, and it sank in as if through still water. This felt nothing like my spatial Sky Grade Technique at all.

The problem came when I tried to pull it back.

It didn’t budge.

The mirror clung like quicksand, tightening the more I resisted. A steady pressure tugged at my arm.

Should I just cut off my hand and get it over with? It would be a bit of a pain to replace, but I had a lot of resources at my fingertips with the Blazing Sun Sect now having so few elders compared to before the calamity.

The absurd thought of disarming myself loosened the creeping panic, and I dismissed it.

This was unlikely to be a random death trap. This had to be the same mirror Jiang Yeming had used. If she had gone through, it likely wouldn’t kill me outright. Besides, I could still feel my hand on the other side. That alone reassured me enough to remain calm.

Moments later, the mirror swallowed me whole, and I felt a bit of a tightness for a split second like I was getting sucked through a straw.

Next thing I knew, I was standing in a dark forest. Weirdly, the whole place was silent. No crickets, no insects, and none of the sounds that usually filled quiet nights.

Clearly not a standard teleportation. I had some experience with those.

Also, the space around here felt a bit tangy, and not at all like the real world. It was hard to describe the feeling in words, but it felt fake.

Was this a miniature world? Holy shit, that would be awesome! That kind of knowledge on how to make something like this was already lost, I would love to study it.

I looked up at the “stars” noticing that some were wrong, and it was more like someone had just randomly put them up to make it look like night time.

I swung my hand through the stale air, this place had low oxygen levels.

Whoever had created this place hadn’t cared much for flora and fauna. Likely just a convenient site for experiments.

Still, to build this required immense skill. A Level 6 Array Conjurer at minimum. But considering the scope and since it was less compressed space and more of a whole miniature world, I suspected Level 7.

I crouched, pressing my hand into the soil, testing the quality. It was dry, rough dirt. Around me stood trees that looked normal but were larger than the ones outside, on average.

Perhaps they had adapted to this enclosed environment. That alone made the place fascinating.

I plucked a leaf from one of the trees and rubbed it between my fingers. Tiny thorns lined the upper surface of the leaf, rough enough to draw blood from a normal person.

Taking out a vial of blood from my storage ring, I poured it over a cluster of leaves still attached to branches, and watched.

Immediately, the beast's blood vanished, drawn in like a sponge, leaving only faint red stains on the leaves.

Carnivorous trees. Interesting.

I sensed no Qi, so they weren’t monsters. Was this simply their natural form? How would they develop if they gained Qi?

Trees infused with Qi could qualify as monstrous beasts, though most were harmless. But I got the feeling these ones were an exception. Still, how would one go about deliberately turning a tree into such a creature?

Raising a beast to Qi Gathering wasn’t tricky, and it mostly came down to resources: pills, nourishment, and patience. I’d done the same with Speedy. Though some beasts might take longer, and consume much more cultivation resources.

But breaking into Foundation Establishment was different. That usually required either immense time spent in their element or a supporting bloodline that instinctively guided the process. Unlike humans who could choose, beasts usually cultivated instinctively in their initial stages.

That was why Speedy was stuck. He had no bloodline to ease the breakthrough.

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At this rate, even if he did breakthrough, his element might end up being something ridiculous. Fuck, I really hoped he didn’t end up with an element like ‘sleep’ or something like that. It would derail his entire cultivation.

Anyway, how would someone even turn a tree into a monstrous beast? Having an alchemist refine a Qi pill into a potion and inject it with a syringe seemed unlikely, as the tree would probably resist and reject the foreign substance.

No, perhaps mixing it with blood and pouring it over the leaves might work. For other trees, diluting it in water and feeding it through the soil may be a practical solution.

As I pondered the idea, the outside world intruded on my research again as I sensed Jiang Yeming surrounded by a multitude of creatures.

Despite the situation, she was still my disciple, so I had to look after her.

I darted through the trees at incredible speed. Now that I was a Foundation Establishment cultivator, the Earth Grade movement technique was showing more of its potential.

When I arrived at the scene, there was a spider’s bisected corpse sprawled across the ground. Jiang Yeming stood nearby, with her sword cloaked in greenish Qi.

From the shadows, dozens more spiders crept forth, encircling her.

Had it been anyone else, I would have rushed in. But I wanted to see what she could do and what she would use. It could be a cool technique from the future.

Thanks to my eyesight, the dark was no obstacle. I saw her clearly, yet kept my distance. If sensory techniques had improved when she came from, it would be better to stay cautious.

Jiang Yeming crouched low, her stance firm, her sword angled forward like a rapier. A gale burst to life, coiling around the blade, growing sharper, denser, until it howled.

She thrust.

The air screamed as a tornado of blades erupted from her sword’s tip, piercing a hole in the encirclement. Spiders shrieked and convulsed as their limbs were severed, bodies shredded into a revolting slurry, like an invisible blender had chewed them apart.

The devastation didn’t stop there. Trees behind the horde split in half, their trunks drilled through as if by some colossal drill. Bark, branches, and spider flesh scattered through the night like shrapnel.

Through the carnage, Jiang Yeming advanced, her feet just one step behind the tornado of death she created.

Strange. She could clearly annihilate them all, yet she was still trying to retreat. It seemed she’d grown more cautious now that I wasn’t nearby.

Either way, she wasn’t in grave danger, so I withdrew. I had already left instructions with Song Song in case things escalated.

I wasn’t sure if this dimension had an exit, but there had to be; arrays always worked that way. And if I were stuck? My teacher was a Level 7 Array Conjurer, and would eventually get me out. Hopefully.

If not… Well, I still had nearly a decade’s worth of dry rations in my storage ring. And if that ran out too, maybe genetically modified spider meat wouldn’t be so bad.

With that in mind, I left Jiang Yeming to her battle and continued deeper into the forest.

Something soon caught my eye. It was an outline barely visible through the canopy. A castle. From the ground, the trees concealed it, but from above, its silhouette was clear.

I rose higher to get a better view and glided toward it. The night air was still, but as I neared, the forest shifted.

From the shadows burst twenty-three dark butterflies. Their wings shimmered faintly, vanishing into the night like living shadows. Almost invisible, they swarmed toward me with hunger-charged erratic movements.

I exhaled, releasing killing intent like a wave.

They froze midair, wings trembling under the pressure. For a heartbeat they lingered, then scattered in a frenzy, fleeing back into the trees.

Huh. That was more of a probe, but they immediately ran.

Those were cautious creatures, and instinctively knew when to fight and when to run.

With the skies clear, I pressed on toward the castle. It resembled a medieval fortress, tall walls of weathered stone and towers still standing firm after centuries. Cracks traced the surfaces, age and strain showing, but the structure remained intact.

As I soared over the walls, a crushing weight pressed against me, like invisible hands dragging me down.

It was the effect of an array designed to repel flying intruders. But it wasn’t anything high level.

But I was an array conjurer. With a flicker of will, I brushed aside the pressure like cobwebs. Whoever set this hadn’t accounted for people trying to resist this barrier. It was likely built just to handle flying beasts.

Landing in the castle yard, I walked slowly, taking it in. On the surface, the fortress seemed sturdy, towers intact, walls standing tall. Yet there were signs that time had left its marks, vines creeping along battlements, moss spreading like rot through cracks, the damp smell in the air. From a distance, it looked perfect, but only up close did it show signs of decay.

I stepped into the main building, boots echoing against the stone, and entered the main hall.

That was when I froze.

Tall glass cylinders lined the chamber, filled with thick, translucent blue liquid that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Suspended within each one was a human body; there were men and women of all ages, their skin pale, their eyes closed as if in deep sleep.

I extended my senses, and felt the heartbeats coming from them.

Every one of them was still alive. Their chests rose and fell, hearts beating slow but steady. Yet there was no Qi within them. Not even a trace. It was like staring at hollow shells.

A chill crawled down my spine.

Fuck.

I forced a deep breath, steadying myself. Now wasn’t the time to panic or pity them. No mental energy emanated from them, no brainwaves. They were braindead, which made sense; they had likely been here for centuries, at a minimum.

Still, their lack of Qi resembled the third category of transmigrators I’d read about: people arriving in this world with normal bodies, unable to sense Qi or cultivate.

The creator of the spider-human hybrids must have come from here, experimenting on otherworlders who had no Qi.

Fusing two creatures was notoriously difficult. Qi rejection alone was enough to make it nearly impossible, not to mention organ incompatibility, blood type, and other mundane failures. Whoever had done this had clearly invested enormous effort.

But why? What was the end goal? The hybrids weren’t even that strong. Perhaps their bloodline had been diluted?

I searched the chamber for research notes, but found none.

Hopefully, they were hidden somewhere, unless he’d been the type to keep it all in his head and then die with it. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

The basement air was heavy, thick with the scent of damp stone and age. As I walked deeper, my eyes caught something carved into the walls: intricate engravings etched with precise strokes.

A technique.

Not just any technique. A Sky Grade one.

I traced the lines with my gaze, memorizing every curve before I dared to breathe too close, just in case of a trap. The characters pulsed faintly, almost alive.

It was a poison-related technique, and a very dangerous one. It described constructing an ecosystem of toxins within one’s body, feeding, mutating, and growing until they became a walking cauldron of venom. There were also mentions of power at the cost of flesh, blood, and sanity.

I didn’t hesitate. Wind swords burst from my fingertips, cutting into stone. The engravings shattered, fragments spilling across the floor until nothing remained but broken lines and rubble.

Some things were better forgotten, especially since the technique would pair dangerously well with the cultivation-enhancing method I suspected Song San had.

If the previous owner had hidden treasures so carefully, perhaps more secrets stayed tucked away. But in the end, I found nothing.

I exhaled, shaking my head.

Oh well. Perhaps someone else could do the combing. Sometimes having a different pair of eyes looking at the problem could be the last click in the lock.

From my storage ring, I withdrew a small paralyzed mouse. Its body twitched faintly, frozen but alive. With a flick of my hand, I revived it with a simple lightning array. I shocked its heart to beating, and then extended my Eight Mind Phantom technique. Invisible tendrils reached into its tiny mind, bending it to my will. Its glassy eyes flickered with obedience.

“Go,” I murmured, and put it down.

The mouse darted into the shadows, claws skittering across stone.

I didn’t linger and left the castle behind, putting some distance between me and the place. Then I hovered above a tree, observing everything.

It wasn’t long before Jiang Yeming entered the castle.

I closed my eyes, inhaling slowly. The world fell away.

When I opened them again, I was seeing through the eyes of the mouse.