Cultivation Nerd-Chapter 330 - Unchanging Funerals

I drifted through the discussion in a haze, my gaze fixed on what remained of Zun Gon.

He had been a person, someone I’d spoken with, even respected. One of the rare cultivators who could look past himself and consider the bigger picture. And now, all of that was scattered into blood and fragments.

With him died our last hope of reconciliation with the other sects.

It was no longer a matter of if there would be war. The only question now was when.

The elders’ voices blurred together as more arrived, drawn by the flare of Zun Gon’s Qi before it vanished. They gathered in a loose circle, robes shifting with the unsettled breeze. Some whispered, their faces tense and unreadable. Others stood silent, lips pressed thin, eyes like hard stones.

My teacher, the only Level 7 Array Conjurer, had been the one to set up protective arrays. Without them, spies might have noticed, and saboteurs could have struck at the critical moment when he was about to break through.

Suspicion flickered among the elders; Cai Hu’s name even passed through the murmurs, but it didn’t stick. He was too valuable, too well-positioned. Any sect would have welcomed him openly with riches and honor. He had no reason for underhanded games.

When a breakthrough to Nascent Soul failed, the backlash tore the cultivator apart from within, their Qi turning their body into a bomb. My teacher’s arrays had spared the sect from being scorched again.

I clenched my fist, drawing in a slow, heavy breath, smothering the feelings clawing to the surface.

…

The sect was drowned in rumor by the time the funeral came. A couple of days later, the coffin was lowered into the ground.

The ceremony was small. Not out of disrespect, but because worry about the future weighed heavier than grief.

His grave joined the row of stone markers, and from the corner of my eye I saw Xin Ma’s name etched among them. The sight struck me with a strange sense of dislocation, as if I were watching from outside my own body.

The coffin itself held little more than blood-soaked rags and unrecognizable scraps of flesh. His body had burst apart too violently to recover.

Elders stood around the pit, their faces carved in different masks. One chewed the inside of his cheek until it bled. Another wrung the sleeve of his robe again and again, as if holding himself together by that thin thread. A third kept staring at the clouds, refusing to look down.

People whispered throughout the ceremony, their voices carrying just above the elder reading Zun Gon’s contributions to the sect. For most, the words meant nothing anymore. Respect was useful while a man lived, not after.

Only a handful of inner elders, men and women who had fought beside him, or who shared his vision, looked genuinely shaken.

When the final rites were done, I moved beside Song Song, whom I had convinced to attend.

She wore a fitted black robe, its lines tracing an hourglass figure usually hidden beneath her loose casual clothes. The sharp austerity of the color made her seem even more striking, like a flame burning against a field of ashes.

Song Song’s eyes swept the crowd, narrowed like a snake’s. Not many elders dared to meet her gaze.

She hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. Zun Gon’s death meant little to her; if anything, she was more inclined to celebrate than mourn. But as the future sect leader, her presence was expected.

Though truthfully, the Blazing Sun Sect itself might not even last a few more years. The only thread holding people here was the memory of the Blazing Sun Immortal showing himself, even if the impression he left behind was far from reassuring.

Song Song nudged me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“By the way, do you know where the white-haired bitch is? I’m in the mood to annoy her.”

“Please don’t make enemies of people who will likely be your peers in the future,” I advised.

“Don’t sweat the small things,” she chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief. “As long as you’re around, our dear Ye An likes you enough not to cause me trouble.”

“That isn’t a permanent solution,” I warned.

Ye An only tolerated me because she thought I could help with her condition. Beyond that, she was colder than frost. If I solved her problem, I was sure she’d cut ties the very next day and cut me down if I stood in her way.

“Now all inner elders will throw a shovel of dirt to cover the grave,” one of them announced, producing four shovels from his storage ring.

I took one, tossed the first shovelful onto the coffin, then passed it to Song Song. She arched a brow, but followed my lead. The others stepped forward in turn until the ritual was complete.

Finally, two elders finished covering the grave, setting a headstone atop the mound engraved with Zun Gon’s name and his position.

I stared at the stone.

No date of birth. No date of death. Just a name, and the same marble trim that marked every inner elder’s resting place.

A century from now, no one would remember Zun Gon. His name would be weathered and meaningless, and only those who had truly known him could recall the man behind the title.

Even that was temporary. Everyone died. Everyone was forgotten. It was just a matter of time.

When the funeral ended, we walked home in silence. No one rushed to take to the air as it would have seemed disrespectful, as though we couldn’t wait to escape.

From the corner of my eye, I glanced at Song Song. Despite the bored look fixed on her face, when she caught me watching, she smiled.

Zun Gon had been the core of plan B, the lynchpin against Song Song’s father. If he had advanced to Nascent Soul, his strength and sense of justice would have forced him to act.

But plan A had already collapsed; the Blazing Sun Immortal would never take the bait against the Blood Step Immortal.

Now, plan B was gone too.

I sighed.

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Plan C. I had to think of something, anything. But every plan failed before it even began.

They said no plan survived contact with the enemy. Mine weren’t even making contact before crumbling.

Maybe I was relying too much on others to shoulder the fight. Yet if I took the lead, the odds were high I’d end up dead. Even victory would be pyrrhic.

What could I possibly do against the Blood Step Immortal? Even his current body was at Nascent Soul…

Fuck. I couldn’t think of anything.

No, that wasn’t true. I could think of things. But the real question was: how much was I willing to sacrifice for Song Song? Because if this next plan failed, my fate might be worse than death.

And maybe all these funerals had made death feel closer, heavier, more final than ever before.

“What are you staring at me like that for?” Song Song asked.

“Nothing,” I said, turning away. “If something were to happen to me, would you take care of Wu Yan and–”

“No.” Her answer was instant, cutting me off. “I don’t care about your pets, your wife, Wu Yan, or the rest of your disciples.”

“Ugh.” I cringed. “You’re really not making this easier. Can’t you at least lie?”

“Wu Yan’s interesting, but even then… she seems like the type I’d have to waste too much effort on,” Song Song said, as if that were comfort. “And stop with that weird look. You look like you’re preparing to die.”

I sighed.

“What? Don’t you know me by now?” she asked. “Did it really come as a surprise?”

“No, not at all. But I was hoping for one,” I said.

Song Song was an unchangeable mountain. I’d always known that. Hoping otherwise was foolish. And yet, that immovable stubbornness was what I admired in her too.

…

A week slipped by. The sect buzzed with rumors and tension, but it washed over me. I was just the elder of techniques, no more, no less.

Overreaching in my duties was just adding needless responsibilities to my plate.

On a summer morning like any other, sunlight streamed through the window and woke me.

But the moment I opened my eyes, every nerve went on alert. I couldn’t sense Speedy, Wu Yan, Fu Yating, or even Batsy.

I shot upright, extending my senses like sonar. Nothing.

Panic surged. Had someone broken in? My teacher had placed a Level 6 alarm array here; even a Nascent Soul cultivator shouldn’t have been able to slip through unnoticed.

My heart hammered as scenarios raced through my head.

Had Wu Yan’s secret been discovered?

I rushed to the door and flung it open.

What greeted me was something I couldn’t have imagined even in a dream.

Song Song, Ye An, Wu Yan, Tingfeng, Jiang Yeming, Speedy, Cai Hu, and Fu Yating were gathered in the yard, chatting casually. Some were cooking.

Was I still asleep? Was this some illusion?

Unlikely. With a Sky Grade technique, I would have noticed, though nothing was impossible.

Jiang Yeming looked up from where she was helping Fu Yating cook meat over what looked like a barbecue. She smiled and waved at me.

“Hey, happy birthday,” Jiang Yeming called.

The others turned toward me, and in a blur too fast to follow, Song Song slipped an arm around my shoulders.

“Well, now we both have numbers starting with ‘two.’ Welcome to the elderly generation,” she teased.

“What is happening here?” I asked, wary.

The air smelled normal, the breeze on my skin was as it should be. More importantly, the mental waves from each of them were exactly right. If this was an illusion, the caster would have needed an impossibly precise grasp of the people closest to me.

My teacher, Cai Hu, sat nearby with a bowl of rice, casually picking at it with his chopsticks while chatting with Tingfeng.

“Did you forget?” Fu Yating said with a sly smile. “It’s your birthday. You’re twenty now.”

My birthday?

I ran through the dates in my head… and froze. She was right. It actually was today. But how did she know? Had my mother told her back when we lived together?

Smiling faintly, I brushed Song Song’s arm aside and walked to my teacher, resting a hand on his shoulder. His Qi felt genuine, his mental waves steady. At the same time, the ruby plaque in my storage ring, the one that controlled the library’s arrays, gave a subtle shiver.

Not a dream. Not an illusion.

I smiled wider and looped an arm around Cai Hu.

“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with the other elders?” I asked.

He raised a brow at the sudden show of closeness, but didn’t push me off.

“I’ve got array work to handle, like reinforcing the sect’s defenses, and adding new layers of arrays in case of an attack.” He said it smoothly, like a man who’d been refining excuses for centuries. Which, honestly, he had.

Twenty years old, huh. Nearly half a decade since I came to this world. Five years gone in the snap of a finger.

“Who came up with this?” I asked.

“Your wife spread the word,” my teacher replied. “Everyone who wanted to be here came. It’s a good break from the endless meetings. You should join us more often in those.”

“Sorry, can’t. I need to sort through all the books and techniques worth preserving for the war.”

“Your job is to choose the books. The scribes do the copying,” he countered with a smile.

We both knew he was enjoying himself, trying to pin me into a corner.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot of delegating to sort through,” I grinned back.

Before he could press further, I stepped away toward my fiancée, the true organizer of this gathering.

What was her aim? Was this simply for me? To make me happy?

She was someone I had a hard time understanding.

“So, you’re the mastermind behind this plan?” I asked, stepping toward my fiancée.

“Yes,” she said without looking up from the food she was cooking. “But the whole ‘block your senses and make it a surprise’ part, that was your teacher’s idea.”

Of course. Only one person in the sect could tamper with arrays at that level without anyone noticing. Cai Hu was terrifying as an enemy, though thankfully, he was on my side.

“He seemed more concerned with lightening the mood after Lord Zun Gon’s death,” Fu Yating added, finally meeting my gaze with a sweet smile. “What? Why are you staring at me like that? Falling for me, maybe?”

“Don’t ruin the moment,” I grumbled.

“You should take that advice yourself,” she shot back smoothly.

She had remembered my birthday when no one else had, even I had forgotten. That alone stirred something in me.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“No problem.” She smiled again, softer this time. “It’s part of my duty as your wife to do small things like this. Especially since you’ve looked so weighed down these past weeks.”

Perhaps I should return the favor on her birthday.

Except… I had no idea when Fu Yating's birthday was. In truth, I didn’t know anyone’s exact birthday. Cultivators didn’t usually celebrate them. It was redundant to celebrate your 213th birthday. Also, the younger generation didn't celebrate them, since it was seen as a bit of a bad omen, since a cultivator would have the chance to have many birthdays.

“Would it be rude to ask when your birthday is?” I asked.

She chuckled, laughing in a way that wasn’t her usual sarcastic bite. This time it was genuine.

“Yes. Extremely rude. You’d come off as an insensitive fool,” she said. “A husband should know his wife’s birthday, that’s the bare minimum.”

Ah, shit. She was probably right. But there might not be a single soul who remembered her birthday.

But then again, her family were cultivators too. She came from a clan.

So why this sudden gesture? Why insist on celebrating a birthday, of all things?

A chill ran through me.

Was this her subtle way of saying she knew, or at least suspected, that I was an otherworlder?

Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe.