Cultivation Nerd-Chapter 338 - A Teacher Teaching

As we stood atop the library pagoda, my teacher, Cai Hu, gave me a look that said I was insane. He scratched his head, rubbed his chin, narrowed his eyes, and hummed like a wise old man trying to puzzle out my nonsense.

“So, you want me to make an array that can help you train your mental power?” he asked at last, closing his eyes as if digging through the thousands of arrays in his memory. “I recall something like that. However, clashing your mind against another cultivator usually works best. It’s dangerous, though. Even someone weaker than you can defeat you if you haven’t slept, or if you’re hungover, or anything else that dulls your mental edge…”

He rambled on, but he wasn’t wrong.

Mental power was a muscle. I had an advantage over most minds at the beginning, but training required resistance and forcing my will against others, hypnotizing them, and trying to seize control.

“I’d suggest training against someone like Song Song, someone you trust not to destroy you even if she had the chance,” he added. “But her natural killing intent and hostility might leave permanent damage. Against me? The difference is too wide."

I nodded, but waited for him to think things through a bit more and see if he had another solution to this.

"I actually trained my mental energy when I was younger," he said, "Honestly, the best practice is against enemies… and of course, never lose. Not even once. Losing in a mental battle often means a fate worse than death.”

“I thought the same,” I admitted. “But the risk feels too steep.”

“True,” he said with a shrug. “When I trained, I used weaker beasts. Made certain they were weaker. Took me about five decades to hone my mind until I could stand against even a nine-star Core Formation cultivator. You? You could manage it in three decades, maybe less, before even reaching Core Formation.”

“Sadly, I don’t have that kind of time,” I told him. “Not for what I plan to do.”

He sighed, exasperated. “I still don’t understand why you’re rushing this."

Cai Hu looked me in the eyes as if waiting for me to tell him something about the situation I had put myself in. But I told him nothing. The fewer people who knew about the exact workings of this scheme, the higher the chances of success.

He sighed, seeing that I was being stubborn, and relented, "Either way, here’s the array. You can attack it with your mental energy, and it’ll push back.”

He pointed at the roof, and a light shot from his fingertip, sinking into the stone.

Suddenly, a suction force dragged at me. I didn’t resist. My thoughts felt sluggish, my mind heavy, eyelids drooping as if I hadn’t slept in days.

Interesting. And it was only a Level 3 array.

“Neat, right?” Cai Hu chuckled. “You just need to push against it with your mental energy and, at the same time, stop it from draining you.”

“Where did you learn this? I don’t remember seeing anything like it in the library,” I asked him.

Unlike Sky Grade Techniques, which weakened the more people practiced them, arrays were different. That was why I had been able to study Level 6 arrays freely. Level 7s were more tightly restricted, but with no Sect Leader to enforce the rules, I managed to get my hands on them anyway.

Now that Zun Gon was dead, I had also gone through every Sky Grade Technique in the sect’s collection and locked the memories away in my mind. For now, I needed to master the ones I already had. As for the others… I’d have to wait until the elders who knew them died before I could train them properly.

“When I was younger, a man from the Void Piercing Sect used it on me,” Cai Hu explained. “His version was a Level 5 array. I deconstructed it and reworked it into this form.”

I remembered reading about that half-century of history. The time when people like my teacher, Zun Gon, and a handful of others formed what came to be known as the Golden Generation. These days, however, people referred to them more bitterly as "The Golden Generation That Never Was." 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

It had been far more interesting than the time when the last Sect Leader was young. That man had been so absurdly talented that no one could even challenge him. He had outperformed his peers, and his era became somewhat unremarkable in hindsight.

However, the Golden Generation had a dozen cultivators across the four great sects, all of whom had the potential to reach the Nascent Soul stage.

It had never come to pass. The current Azure Frost Sect Leader killed or crippled every last one of them.

Now that was someone impressive. I didn’t agree with her methods and despised the idea of limiting geniuses, and wanted to see as many people as possible live up to their potential.

…Wait. Could Ye An be connected to the Azure Frost Sect Leader?

Personality-wise, they were similar. Vindictive to the core. Ye An was the sort of person who took joy in making others miserable, not like Song Song, who followed her instincts and often struck on sight. Ye An was more like a petty office worker who would file HR reports and go to great lengths to collect evidence, wasting their time, just to ensure that someone received a written warning on their desk the next morning.

“Why do I get the feeling your thoughts are flying around like a lost bird?” Cai Hu interrupted, dragging me out of my tangent. “Anyway, it’s a complicated array, but you should be able to copy it after seeing it once. I didn’t skip any steps, and I made sure to let you see how my Qi flowed during the casting.”

As he spoke, Qi surged around him like fire, flaring in a radiant aura. There was even a hint of gold in it.

He shot off into the sky in a streak of light.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

For a second, with his hair and that shimmering aura, he looked like a Super Saiyan. Which was cool.

A lot of people, my teacher included, liked to toss me scraps and expect miracles. Song Song, too, always seemed to think I could pull new techniques straight out of my ass.

Where did that confidence even come from? It wasn’t as if I had a reputation for copying other people’s work.

Sighing, I dropped onto the ground, staring up at the training array glowing faintly on the roof.

Lately, I’d been chewing on too many ideas. Contingency plans, counters, “what ifs”... all circling the same question: how do you deal with someone overwhelmingly stronger in every possible way?

With that thought in mind, I slammed my mental waves against the barrier, forcing myself to keep it from sucking my energy dry. It was difficult, yes, but not impossible.

..

I kept at it for nearly four hours until it was time to head out and teach the younger generation.

The teaching grounds sat right where the Outer Sect met the Inner, an unassuming building with a slanted roof, its wooden beams polished to a smooth finish. Paper lanterns swayed lazily in the breeze, giving it the look of a samurai’s estate more than a classroom.

Inside, the stillness gave way to low murmurs and the soft rustle of paper. Over a hundred students filled the rows of tables, scrolls and ink-stained notes spread before them. The air thrummed with attention, though some seats remained empty, belonging to the newcomers who had dismissed my lessons as a waste of time.

Usually, privileged kids thought like that. Let them think they were too good for this. I didn’t care.

“Hello, students,” I greeted.

They rose in unison, bowed ninety degrees, and chorused, “Greetings, honorable teacher.”

Tingfeng and Jiang Yeming were also present, but as my personal disciples and technically my assistants, they only bowed forty-five degrees. A small leeway, but tradition was tradition.

I didn’t care much for these tedious rituals, but everyone else did, and I had no reason to fight them on it.

Looking across the rows, I found myself smiling despite everything. The focused stares and eager grins were good to see. Of course, there were exceptions. My sword-obsessed disciple, Tingfeng, sat with that same blank mask he always wore, but I knew him too well. His wandering gaze, the lifeless eyes… he looked like someone who had just been NTRed.

He’d clearly rather be anywhere else.

“Today’s lesson will be more on theory,” I announced. “Next time, we’ll put what we learned today into practice. I’ll even catch a monstrous beast for you to use as a dummy.”

Most of the lessons so far had gone well. Others… less so. But I was still new to teaching this many people. Trial and error was part of the job.

Jiang Yeming handed out papers for everyone to jot down their thoughts during the lesson. It was something I used to keep them focused. At least I tried to.

Even if most of the notes were silly, the act itself helped.

“Today’s lesson is about putting rules, limitations, and conditions into your arrays,” I explained. “In battles between Array Conjurers of similar strength, this is usually the deciding factor. Remember, there’s no such thing as an array that can’t be broken.”

A hand rose. A girl with chubby cheeks and bright purple eyes.

“Yes, Hu Qing?”

“Teacher, what about the continental array you mentioned before? The one that split the world into five continents three thousand years ago? No one’s ever broken it.”

“True, it’s undoubtedly powerful,” I admitted with a smile, softening my gaze on the class. “But there has to be an entrance or exit somewhere, even if no one has discovered it yet. Maybe one day, one of you will find the way through and have your name written in history books.”

Their eyes lit up at the thought of glory.

They were still just teenagers, too young to have grown into the scheming elders they’d become later, elders who would never reveal their true thoughts.

“Now,” I continued, watching them scribble across their papers, “let’s move to another subject we’ve touched on, but not fully explored.”

Summer was on its last legs. In three or four months, winter would come, and with it new dangers. For disciples their age, the deadliest threat was often Qi Gathering beasts, as countless young lives had been lost to them.

“Monstrous beasts,” I said, releasing Qi into the air. I condensed it until even those without a sense for it could see, then shaped it into the word danger glowing above my palm.

Gasps. Sparkling eyes.

I bit back a smile. Clueless kids were easily impressed.

“Qi Gathering beasts might be the lowest category,” I went on, shifting the Qi into a tiny jade tiger chasing a stick figure, “but they’re still dangerous. Thankfully, they’re guided mostly by instinct. That makes them vulnerable to ambushes, guerrilla tactics, trickery, and especially arrays. Poison pellets help, too.”

A boy with sword-like brows raised his hand, frowning as if I’d insulted his ancestors.

“Yes, Xiao Meng?”

“Teacher… isn’t that dishonorable? Using underhanded means like that?”

Ah. What a shame. If he survived long enough, he’d think back on this lesson.

“This is just my suggested method, the one that works for everyone. As we’ve discussed in earlier lessons, at the Qi Gathering stage beasts surpass humans in every metric, whether strength or Qi density,” I explained, shrugging lightly. “That said, you can fight however you like. Everyone has to find the style that suits them best.”

Xiao Meng nodded and lowered his hand.

I really hoped that kind of thinking wouldn’t get him killed. He was a good student, respectful, and worth keeping an eye on. Still a kid, and likely echoing the values his family drilled into him. I smiled gently, not holding it against him.

“Well, does anyone else have questions on this topic? I think it’s an important one.” I softened my tone, encouraging them to speak up.

But no one did.

Talented disciples often came from families that taught them cultivation techniques but neglected the lessons needed for survival in the real world. It was like telling a college student that grades alone decided success, when in reality, it was networking and connections that landed the best jobs. And once in those jobs, the ones who thrived weren’t always the hardest workers, but the ones who looked busy while doing the least.

…

The lesson continued for about an hour. When it ended, the students filed out in groups, and I noticed something new: inner sect and outer sect disciples mingling more naturally than before.

My own disciples stayed behind to help as always. Jiang Yeming collected the papers while Tingfeng cleaned with the same lifeless stare as ever. If I didn’t toss him a sword technique every so often, I had no doubt he’d have rebelled by now.

Still, he was a good kid. We were alike in some ways, just walking down different paths.

“Oh, look, this one had some interesting thoughts during the lesson,” Jiang Yeming said, handing me a paper.

I took it from her, studying her with faint curiosity. She was so competent at this, often a better teacher than me in certain aspects, despite me being the one who designed the program.

Was she a teacher before she regressed?

With that thought lingering, I began reading the paper.

Huh. This was actually a neat idea.