What do you mean I'm a cultivator?-Chapter 48

The next morning, Cheng found himself in the intimate, dull rhythm of axes thudding into wood. The sound was one he had long since gotten used to. God knows how many times he had swung an axe again and again, turning logs brought to the clearing into firewood.

Still, it was a better task than scrubbing the many stone stairs leading to the entrance of the outer sect.

A few voices carried over the early chill, mingling with the sharp scent of chopped wood and sweat, making Cheng turn his head to look. The other outer disciples stopped what they were doing, some splitting logs, others hauling them to the side.

"You. And all of you here. Listen up."

An Inner Disciple stood just beyond the clearing, dressed in the standard inner sent robes. The youth looked older than everyone, but not by much.

His presence was strong. The man is likely closer to the next realm than Qi condensation. His gaze was sharp, looking through people more than at them.

"Spread the word." the disciple said, his tone clipped and bored. "Every Outer Disciple is to gather at the Pill Distribution Platform. Now."

Murmurs rose instantly. Someone muttered about the day’s chores. Another cursed under their breath. Cheng just frowned.

The Pill Platform was only visited once a month. Always quiet, transactional. For all of them to be called there outside of schedule? That meant something. And that something probably wasn't for their benefit.

By the time Cheng and the other disciples arrived, the stone courtyard around the platform was packed. A thousand or so outer disciples stood in loose, uneven rows beneath the rising sun, all with varying degrees of confusion, curiosity, or indifference on their faces.

And above them, standing alone on the raised platform, was Elder Feng.

He didn’t speak immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was clear, even, and devoid of care.

"In two weeks." he said, his voice carried over with the wind, reaching much further than it should. "The Hundred Year Gathering begins."

A collective intake of breath swept through the crowd. Those who had learned what that entailed were both excited and scared. And even some didn't, it was clear that an event that would be held once a century was important.

"You are to stay out of the way of the inner disciples. You will attend. You will sit. You will observe. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not wander. Do not interfere. Any disobedience will be swiftly dealt with."

The words fell like blades. Sharp, heavy, and final, as Elder Feng released a hint of his cultivation base. Despite how much Cheng had grown, he still felt insignificant compared to the man standing on top of the stone platform.

As Elder Feng’s pressure receded like a wave drawing back into the sea, silence lingered for a few heartbeats more before the sound of the wind rustling through robes slowly resumed.

Cheng exhaled, shoulders relaxing slightly. Around him, disciples began to shift, glancing at one another as if seeking confirmation that they’d all heard the same thing or at least that they were all equally uncertain about what it meant.

The Hundred Year Gathering.

He hadn't heard the term before. But at that moment, some disciples muttered among their friends and acquaintances about great duels between cultivators who could shatter mountains. Others told tales of immortal experts descending from the heavens to observe the potential of the younger generation.

Of course, there was no way Inner sect disciples were that powerful, but Cheng speculated from what they were told that they would be fillers. An audience to cheer their sect's inner disciples.

Elder Feng gave no further explanation. With the same indifference he had arrived with, he vanished.

The crowd remained unmoving for a moment longer.

“What do you think this is about?” someone muttered to Cheng’s left.

“Maybe a test. They always test us during the assessment.” another said.

Cheng didn’t speak. He was still staring at the platform, a strange heat pooling in his chest. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. Nor was it anticipation. It was something more primal, like the feeling before a storm, when the air hung too still, too thick.

He looked down at his hands, calloused and worn from weeks of carving arrays into stone and wood, and the daily chores that the sect demanded of them.

He had spent every free moment practicing, trying to perfect the delicate balance between intent and execution. He was nowhere near mastery, but he was far beyond where he had started.

And yet, none of that would matter if they were truly only spectators.

That night, the outer disciple quarters were buzzing like a disturbed hive. Stories, rumors, and theories flew like sparks as disciples formed groups outside their cabins.

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Some claimed the Gathering was a chance to be chosen by powerful sects or even cultivator clans. Others said that demons and cultivators from enemy sects might be in attendance. That the gathering was as much about peace as it was a delicate show of strength.

Even more absurd was the rumor that some immortal might appear and bless them with a martial physique.

That was an interesting rumor. Not because of said immortal appearing. But it reminded Cheng of what he had read.

Cultivation Physiques, or Heaved blessed bodies, as they were called in some really older books, were fundamental changes and advantages that people possessed at birth.

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But the books also explained that such physiques made themselves known when one attempted to break into foundation establishment.

The Martial physique was the most common physique. The books explained that if a cultivator had been born with one, their body would become much stronger during the transitional stage of foundation establishment. More importantly, the book also said a few vague words about blessing its holder with unmatched fighting prowess.

It made Cheng wonder if he, too, had a physique just waiting for him to break through and reveal itself.

Cheng sat by the window of his modest cabin, staring out at the mountain shadows under the moonlight.

And as the moon passed overhead and the mountain winds howled outside, Cheng once more returned to practicing the arrays he had learned, trying again and again.

"No point in wasting time thinking." Cheng muttered, preferring to spend his time practicing rather than sitting around speaking about rumors and conversing with alcohol. God knows how the outer disciples got their hands on such.

The morning sun had barely risen when it happened. Cheng and the outer disciples were murmuring amongst themselves. Then, the very air before them twisted. Like heat rising off desert sand, space itself bent.

All conversation ceased. Even the wind seemed to pause.

Cheng’s eyes widened with the rest. A ripple in the fabric of reality bloomed outward, and from it, something immense began to push through. It was a ship.

A ship of all things. Complete with masts, sails, and a hull. Yet it was massive.

It was taller than 60 Zhang in height, and likely triple that in width.

But there was no ocean, no waves for it to float. The ship moved through the air, parting clouds as if sailing through water, its hull etched with glowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Cheng barely had time to process it before something moved.

A force. No, a presence seized him. It was as though an invisible, formless hand closed around his entire body, lifting him effortlessly into the air.

His breath caught in his throat as the ground disappeared beneath his feet in an instant. He couldn't even struggle. His limbs felt pinned by gentle, absolute power.

And then his feet hit wood. He stumbled but didn’t fall, eyes wide. Around him, the others were appearing the same way. Lifted from the platform and placed gently upon the vast deck of the floating ship.

No one spoke.

No one dared.

The ship adjusted, the massive sails catching winds that didn’t exist, and began to move again. Smoothly, silently. Like a bird gliding through clouds.

Within the hour, nine more stops were performed after theirs.

Each time, more disciples appeared. The ship went around the mountain where the falling star sect was located, grabbing the chunk of outer disciples in each chunk of the outer sect with each stop.

By the end of the ninth stop, the deck was packed, yet still the ship did not creak or tilt under the weight. Ten thousand outer disciples, standing shoulder to shoulder, none daring to move, speak, or breathe too loudly.

Even the usual hierarchy seemed to vanish. Strong or weak, senior or new, all of them stood as equals beneath the impossible scale of what they were witnessing.

Cheng found his breath again, shallow though it was. The deck stretched so far he couldn't see the end of it, thanks to the sheer number of people in one location.

"This. This is not a mere ceremony." Cheng muttered, his heart pounding. This was definitely something he did not expect.

The sun had barely shifted in the sky when another ripple passed through the air, less dramatic than the first, but no less amazing.

A figure now stood on a raised section of the upper deck, where none of them had noticed anyone before. Robes of silver and storm blue shimmered with subtle patterns, and long hair drifted in an unseen wind. The woman’s presence was quieter than Elder Feng’s, but somehow heavier, as if the very sky bent to make room for her.

It meant one thing. This woman was in a realm above that of Elder Feng.

“You will enter the ship.” she spoke, voice low but resonating with power. “Find a room. Remain inside unless otherwise summoned. Behave. Or else.”

And then he was gone.

No flash. No sound. Just absence, as if he had never been there at all.

None of them needed to be told twice.

Like cautious ants on the back of a slumbering beast, the outer disciples fled into the lower levels of the ship, through wooden passageways, passing through interior halls lined with softly glowing arrays. It was like the whole ship, every part of it, was connected through an array. No. Perhaps, this was a formation.

Every corridor was quiet, each step muffled by floors that seemed to absorb sound. The rooms were simple but clean.

Cheng found a room tucked near the middle of a passageway, modest but strangely comfortable. At least it was better than a straw mat.

"Maybe I should make a bed." Cheng muttered, sitting on the mattress.

And so began the wait.

Three days passed in a strange hush. The ship never stopped moving, and if one stood on the deck, they could observe the world below shifting, from mountains and valleys to great sweeping plains, then to a sea of cloud that obscured everything.

On the morning of the fourth day, bells rang again.

The disciples walked out in silence, ten thousand of them stepping back onto the deck. The wind carried an unfamiliar scent, sharp and cold like forged metal.

And then they saw it.

It was a floating mountain. It was huge. Almost too huge. And yet, it was hollowed out, forming an arena, and seat after seat lined up around it.

The ship slowed, hovering near one of three designated landing platforms. With a barely felt shift, it came to a stop.

And soon, they were once again grabbed and moved to seat on their part of the seats.

Across from them, to the west, another massive group was sitting down. Robes of dark red, the insignia of the Ember Cloud Sect was clearly visible on their chests.

To the north, the third group, draped in cyan robes, the symbol of the Blue Drought Sect insignia embroidered in a golden circle on their backs, entered more quietly, their steps light and precise.

Three great sects. Three colossal audiences.

A gathering of youth from across the three great sects of the Hongwu region. And yet, they were not here to fight. But to watch.

To cheer.

There was one thing clear, though. Something petty was going on, as the falling star sect's outer disciples did not have an insignia on their robes. Clearly, the insignia was nothing but a petty squabble, as the other two sects perhaps wanted to show that they took care of their disciples more.

Perhaps an Elder of one of the other two sects got cheated out of a resource they wanted, be it in some auction or such, and this was how they paid back.

Quite a childish move, but there was no other way to get back, as fights between the three sects were forbidden.