Cultivation Nerd-Chapter 345 - A Merry Meal

Winter had settled in completely. Each day brought the end of December closer, and with it came deeper snow and sharper winds. Outside the spring array, the world was a white blur with snow whipping past in relentless sheets, dancing and spiraling like spirits caught in a storm. I watched for a moment, the muffled howl of the blizzard barely reaching through the array’s warm barrier, and let out a quiet sigh.

In my hands were two trays, the porcelain still steaming faintly. I made my way into the yard, where the warmth of the array preserved a small pocket of life amidst the frozen wasteland. There, I set a large table, carefully laying out the plates, cutlery, and bowls one by one.

It was December 25th… which meant nothing to anyone here. It didn’t mean much to me either, but I wanted to celebrate, if only to mark such a peaceful year.

“Oh wow, your spring array is much stronger than the one around my place,” came Song San’s voice as he stepped through the barrier, brushing snow from his robes.

What was he doing here? I hadn’t explicitly invited him. Sure, the invitations had been somewhat open-ended, but still–

Was he here to attack? No… that would be too stupid, even for him. Song San was many things, but not suicidal.

He adjusted the porcelain mask on his face and turned toward me.

“I think you forgot to send your best friend an invitation to such a large dinner invitation list,” he said lightly. “But as a good friend, I’ll forgive such things.”

“I didn’t send any invitations,” I replied.

He ignored me completely, dropped into one of the ten chairs, and slouched back like a lazy noble after a banquet.

His green gaze flicked upward, sensing it the same moment I did a faint ripple at the top of the barrier as a chill Qi slipped through. Ye An descended gracefully, landing on the grass with a whisper of frost spreading beneath her feet.

“Sorry for intruding,” she said.

Also uninvited.

What was it with people showing up unannounced today? Was this some kind of ambush?

If it were, then they’d regret trying it here.

Ye An must have sensed my unease, because she smiled faintly. “Sorry, but we decided to come at the same time, we did it just in case Song Song decided to go crazy and attack one of us if we came alone.”

While the two of them took their seats, another ripple stirred through the barrier. Jiang Yeming stepped through, a straw hat shading her face, a dusting of snow clinging to her shoulders.

The moment she saw Song San and Ye An, she winced.

I couldn’t blame her.

“Where’s Tingfeng?” I asked.

That snapped her out of it.

“He decided to stay back and train with his sword,” she said quickly. “Something about how training in the cold builds character.”

I doubted he’d said that exactly, but I appreciated the effort. She was paraphrasing to sound polite and to make it seem like I could still control my disciples as not to embarras in front of guests.

However, I never cared whether my disciples listened to my words or what others thought of me, so her efforts were ultimately in vain. None of my plans required Song San or Ye An to have a high opinion of me.

Wu Yan was the same. She wasn’t going to make an appearance either, as she was at a crucial stage in her cultivation.

In the end, as Jiang Yeming sat down, the table ended up holding a surprising number of people I didn’t particularly like.

Song San, Ye An, Jiang Yeming and, of course, Song Song, who had appeared out of nowhere. Who knew how long she’d been sitting there?

Song Song enjoyed using that part of her technique that dampened her soul’s presence, making it impossible for anyone to even conceive her existence until she revealed herself.

I had invited my teacher, but he wasn’t the social type. He didn’t care about anyone else at the table besides me. Still, I wished he were here as it would’ve stopped these childish Core Formation cultivators from acting like hooligans.

“We could totally treat this as an invasion and sneak attack,” Song Song said casually. “Just kill them both here.”

Sadly, the biggest fight-picking hooligan at the table was also the only person I genuinely liked.

“I’d like to see you try,” Ye An smirked, a ripple of icy Qi spreading through the air.

“Calm down, everyone,” I interrupted before the tension thickened further.

Song San stayed quiet, his gaze moving between his sister and me before narrowing in suspicion.

Yep, he’d probably realized that Song Song’s confidence meant we had some kind of advantage. It wouldn’t take a genius to guess that my trump card tipped the scales.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t piece it all together, that my mental technique could control others, and that my secret weapon was a Core Formation beast under my command.

It wasn’t hard to reach that conclusion, though. Either that, or assume we had an allied Core Formation powerhouse hiding nearby.

“C’mon now, let’s calm down,” Song San finally said, his tone mock-light. “We wouldn’t want to anger our gracious host and have him pull out some…” He paused, and even though his porcelain mask hid his face, I could feel the smirk. “Beast out of his closet to show us his dangerous side.”

…Fuck. He actually figured it out.

This was exactly why I hated having him around.

Still, I kept my expression neutral. It was just a suspicion, nothing concrete. He had no proof, and for now, that was enough.

Across the table, Jiang Yeming frowned at Song San, sensing the undercurrent but likely not understanding it.

Now I was really missing my teacher. The man saw social events as a complete waste of time, and honestly, I was starting to see his point. I wanted to tell him that I’d begun grasping a technique to sense spatial fluctuations after becoming a Level 5 Array Conjurer.

“Any more fighting or threatening each other, and I’ll kick you all out,” I said.

“Hey, I didn’t do anything,” Song San protested.

Nobody cared what he had to say.

Fu Yating came out of the house, carrying a tray in each hand, and brought drinks for everyone. I would’ve gone to help her with the rest of the food, but I needed to keep these people from killing each other first.

Soon, the appetizers arrived. Song San pushed up his mask just enough to reveal the lower part of his scarred face as he ate, while his sister didn’t even touch her food, and she just glared at him.

Ye An, on the other hand, smiled the whole time, and when Fu Yating brought the last plate, she turned toward my fiancée.

“I’ll come and help with the cooking,” Ye An offered.

Fu Yating glanced at me, silently asking for permission or perhaps reassurance that Ye An wouldn’t do something insane, like poison the food.

I gave a nod.

“I’d be honored to have a Core Elder help me,” Fu Yating said warmly.

Despite the polite words, she didn’t refuse Ye An’s offer or suggest she rest. At the end of the day, everyone in the sect viewed her as my wife, and I held one of the strongest elder positions, even if it sometimes felt like I was just an overglorified librarian.

Ye An’s white hair flowed behind her as she walked with Fu Yating, chatting about local dishes and old recipes. Her hair had turned completely white now, and though the air inside the array was warm, each breath she took came out as a faint mist.

Her condition was getting worse.

“Oh, and girls,” Song San called after them, his mouth still full. “If you’re cooking any meat, make it rare, almost raw for me.”

I turned to him, raising a questioning brow. The lower half of his face was a network of scars, wrinkled and veined, his lips pale and uneven as he chewed through Fu Yating’s chicken salad.

Noticing my stare, he shrugged and set his chopsticks down.

“Regenerating limbs isn’t easy,” he said.

It would’ve been, if he hadn’t threatened to poison the entire sect. The alchemy elders might’ve actually helped him brew a few Tier 6 recovery pills if not for that.

“It was an emergency at the time,” he continued. “I did the whole thing without testing anything out… Still, it turned out better than I expected. Some beast blood and beastly will mixed in, though. I suppressed everything, but my taste buds changed quite a bit.”

He picked up another piece of meat and began chewing again.

So his bloodline was still a mess. The rejection between his original body and the grafted parts must’ve been lingering even now.

I nodded at his plight and turned back to my food.

“And since we’re best friends, you’ll let me study your body, right?” I asked.

A part of me was genuinely curious about what had happened to him.

Had he inherited the beastly bloodlines? How severe was his body’s rejection? It had to be bad, very bad.

He stopped chewing and stared at me, silently weighing his words as his green eyes met mine.

“You really use this friendship of ours so conveniently,” he said at last, swallowing and sighing, shaking his head.

I stared back at the shameless man, who somehow looked offended at having the tables turned on him.

When I didn’t back down, he leaned back in his chair and set his chopsticks aside.

“Sorry, but right now, I don’t have time to become a test subject,” he said.

I smiled faintly.

I was about fifty percent sure he was playing me and revealing this so-called weakness on purpose. He’d likely guessed that I knew he’d uncovered my trump card and was now trying to placate me by exposing a supposed vulnerability.

Well, I had my own plans to focus on, and there was no point making a fuss over it.

...

Months passed, and winter faded quietly from the lands of the Blazing Sun Sect. No great disasters came, and only a few minor skirmishes with beasts straying into our borders, each swiftly crushed before they could amount to anything. The territory remained calm, the snow retreating without leaving scars behind.

Elsewhere, the other sects faced their usual troubles with occasional beast waves, border disputes, and the same weary rhythm that played out with every passing year. Nothing had truly changed for them.

Now, I sat cross-legged on the soft green grass of my yard, the blades cool and damp beneath my palms. Overhead, clouds drifted lazily across a pale sky, their gray edges tinged with the first light of a new season. The air carried the faint scent of thawed earth and distant blossoms.

Spring had come.

A serene quiet settled over me as I drew in a slow, steady breath. The stillness of the yard deepened, and the Qi within my body stirred in response, flaring to life like kindled fire beneath calm water.

I closed my eyes and turned my focus inward. Within the depths of my consciousness, the second bright pillar of Qi pulsed steadily as a radiant column of energy. With deliberate care, I began inscribing new runes onto its surface, each stroke delicate, precise, and carved with intent.

This was my second Foundation Technique, and it had even less combat application than the first.

There was no dramatic surge of power, no violent burst of light and only the quiet hum of energy aligning itself, reshaping the flow within me.

When I opened my eyes again, the world looked unchanged, yet something subtle had shifted.

I felt stronger, not in a way that could be seen or measured, but in the quiet depth of my Qi, the expanded reservoir waiting patiently beneath the surface.

It was a breakthrough without spectacle, and I was now a two-star Foundation Establishment Cultivator.