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Cultivation Nerd: Chapter 277
🕑 Added 2025-05-27 03:03:25 +0000 UTCChapter 277 - Heaven’s Dog
Only the faint hum of spiritual energy could be heard in a dark room. Low and steady, like the breathing of the world itself.
Song Song sat cross-legged at the center, eyes closed, palms resting lightly on her knees. Her body glowed faintly from within, threads of Qi pulsing through her meridians as the ninth and final pillar of Foundation Establishment was being refined. A technique was etching itself into it, stroke by stroke.
She drew in a slow breath, the air shivering around her as it passed through a faint mist of condensed Qi. Her chest rose and fell, calm and deliberate. As if nothing else existed: just breath and power. Breath and control.
Then it happened.
A final, deep inhale. A sudden shift in pressure. Her Qi surged upward and then inward, collapsing into perfect alignment. It was like watching the final piece of a grand machine click into place.
The breakthrough came not with an explosion but with stillness. But there was a strain on her core.
Song Song exhaled slowly, her breath warm in the cold air. The light around her dimmed and settled.
Nine-star Foundation Establishment.
She was almost at the minor goal she had set herself, which was to become a Core Formation Cultivator.
Her eyes opened, not glowing, not fierce, but clear. Steady.
The foundation was complete.
As always, she was greeted by the same darkness in her room. With her spirit roots so sturdy and the perfect environment around her rich with Qi, what might’ve taken years for others had taken her less than two.
She’d never hit an actual bottleneck in comprehension. Not when it came to her element.
And that was where most of the so-called geniuses struggled, talented but brainless.
All in all, this only confirmed what she already knew.
She was better. And she would continue being better.
Song Song breathed in the damp air and bathed in her arrogance, metaphorically.
Usually, she didn’t indulge in this kind of self-praise, but this might’ve been a record. The peak of Foundation Establishment in under two years? Naturally, without shortcuts? There were bound to be a few reckless prodigies who’d forced it faster, sure, but…
She was only twenty-two. Barely bordering on twenty-three.
As Song Song basked in her self-acknowledged greatness, the stone door to her room groaned open, scraping harshly against the ground.
The soft light from the hall made her squint as she narrowed her eyes.
Her father stepped inside.
Tall, cold-faced, with long flowing black hair and an unreadable aura. His dark eyes locked on her as if trying to see her very soul.
“You broke through again,” he said with a nod. “That is very good. Your progress has been… remarkable.”
Was that all he came to say?
“But you could be making much faster progress,” he added. “The Blood Step Immortal’s element was also blood. He left behind many grand rituals that only someone with your element could use.”
She looked at him, eyes flat. “What’s the benefit of bathing in blood and doing rituals designed by some long-dead lunatic?”
He gave her a long look. “Why are you asking? You never cared before.”
When she didn't answer, he added, “Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course not. I don’t trust you at all.”
Any other father might’ve flinched. Protested. Smiled bitterly, at least.
But not him.
As always, he was ice. Untouched. Unshaken.
“There’s a blood pool I prepared by bloodletting many of your siblings,” he said.
Honestly, Song Song wasn’t surprised he was up to something like that. If she cared more, she might’ve asked whether he’d just taken their blood or killed them first and drained it after. But she didn’t.
“Why go through all the trouble?” she asked. “I don’t exactly lack talent. I can gather the Qi for my next breakthrough easily enough.”
What she lacked was insight and clarity on the culmination of her ultimate technique. But that would come with time, likely during the Qi gathering process itself. Two years, at most, and she’d be ready. Core Formation wasn’t far.
A bloodbath wouldn’t help her understand her technique better. What she needed was a clearer image. A sharper inner vision.
She wasn’t against bathing in the blood of her siblings. Who didn’t love a good demonic ritual now and then? But her father was… sketchy. She might've considered it if someone like Liu Feng had prepared something like this. Then again, Liu Feng would never be part of something this dumb.
“This will help you reach Core Formation,” her father said. “The blood element isn’t something you can grasp by sitting alone in a dark room. We both have it. I’ve had years of experience.”
Yeah, and look where that got him. He was still stuck at Core Formation and projecting his failed ambitions onto his children. She was going to listen to or espect someone like that.
“Once you break through, we can leave this place,” he added. “With the ritual, we could do that in a month or two.”
Oh, she’d leave, alright. First stop? Crippling this smug bastard and wringing every Sky Grade technique and inheritance out of him before slowly bleeding him dry.
“Meh,” Song Song shrugged. “I’ll go through with the ritual if I can’t break through in a couple of years.”
Her father stood there in silence, absorbing her words. Staring at her like some cruel god mulling over whether or not to smite his creation.
“I understand,” he finally said, voice low and unreadable.
Then he took a step back.
The heavy stone door began to close on its own, grinding softly as ancient mechanisms stirred to life. Cold air swept into the chamber, brushing across her skin like a passing whisper.
Through the narrowing gap, she caught one last glimpse of him. Standing alone in the hallway. Half-shrouded in darkness. Only one eye visible, sharp, cold, and dark like ink dropped into water.
And just before the door sealed shut, his final words drifted through:
“You might need to step up… since your brother has already broken through to Core Formation.”
Click.
The door locked into place.
And the silence that followed was colder than the room itself.
Really? Her brother broke through?
So her brother had made it first. That was fine. She liked crushing people who thought they’d won.
She had a lot of brothers. But Song San was the only one whose potential came anywhere close to hers.
The sketchy bastard.
Song Song was… impressed? She might've even been worried if she’d still been in the Blazing Sun Sect. But here? Mostly confused.
For all the talk about her being the most talented person the Song Clan had produced in a millennium, there sure seemed to be people keeping up just fine.
She grumbled internally. But there was no one here to comfort her. No one to say that she was the best, not that she needed that.
Still.
She didn’t let jealousy linger long. It didn’t suit her. Not someone as gifted as she was.
If she was going to break through, she'd do it on her terms. If she had all this talent and still relied on supplements with long-term risks, she really would be useless.
Nascent Soul Realm.
That was the goal. Everything else, her siblings, sects, blood pools, was noise. Once she reached that stage, she could begin putting real pieces into play.
But just as she began to relax, the heavy door creaked open again.
Her father stepped back into the room.
This time, he carried something in his hand.
It was a crimson and faintly translucent fruit, its surface laced with thin, swirling lines that twisted and coiled beneath the skin like restless worms. The fruit pulsed slightly in his palm, almost like it had a heartbeat. Faint wisps of red Qi curled off it like smoke rising from fresh blood. It smelled sweet… and wrong, like honey steeped in iron and incense.
“This is a Nine-Hearted Blood Fruit,” her father said. “Considered by many a heavenly treasure. Something that can create miracles.”
His voice was calm and cold, like always.
But something was off.
Song Song didn’t know why, but she could feel it. Under the surface, beneath the practiced stoicism, her father was rushing. He wasn’t usually like this.
She narrowed her eyes.
“Where did you even get something like that?” she asked. “Don’t tell me we’ve got a tree for these sitting in the backyard.”
“When you want to find something like this,” he said, his tone unreadable, “You usually just put a leash on a dog favored by the heavens.”
Okay... What did that even mean?
*******
At the same time, on the far side of the Western Continent. Far from sects, immortal battles, and the clash of Qi, a young man named Tian Gou walked along the quiet riverbank near his village.
The river flowed lazily, its surface reflecting the amber light of the setting sun in long, rippling bands. The banks were lined with tall reeds and soft earth, and the only sounds were the murmur of water and the occasional chirp of crickets hiding in the grass.
Tian Gou walked with his hands tucked behind his head, a reed stalk in his mouth and a casual rhythm in his steps. His clothes were simple, worn but clean, and his dark hair was tied loosely at the nape of his neck.
To him, the world was still small. Just the village. The river. The distant mountains. And the stories told by elders.
He was just another guy. Just Tian Gou. No grand titles. No ancient bloodline. Just a village youth with calloused hands, a half-decent fishing rod, and a future that, for once, felt certain.
He was about to get married.
His bride-to-be, Mei Lin, was kind and sharp-tongued in all the right ways. She even had a touch of spiritual talent, enough to catch the eye of a passing cultivator a few seasons ago. She’d been chosen to train at a small sect nearby. A real cultivator.
And Tian Gou?
He was fine with staying behind. With being the one who watched her rise from the riverbanks they’d grown up on. Right now, with the water lapping at his feet and the sun turning the sky into molten gold, he felt like he was already at the top of the world.
Then, a voice broke the stillness.
“Hey, Tian Gou!”
It was Gouyou, the butcher’s round-faced son, puffing toward him with short, hurried steps. His breath came in heavy bursts, but his eyes were wide with alarm. Chubby, loud, and reliably dramatic, Gouyou had been Tian Gou’s best friend since they could barely walk.
“Did you get the news yet?” Gouyou asked, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.
Tian Gou blinked, still chewing on his reed stalk. He turned toward his friend.
“What news?” he asked.
The wedding was only a month away.
He’d imagined it already: the scent of steamed dumplings in the air, the village laughing under paper lanterns, Mei Lin’s nervous smile as they stood side by side, palms bound with red thread. He didn’t know much about marriage, but he knew he was ready.
Who knew how his life would change after that?
He’d heard that cultivators slept on flying beds and shot swords out of their mouths. That they could tame lightning and vanish from sight with a single step. He didn’t understand all of it, but he was proud. Proud that Mei Lin would be one of them. Proud that his wife would walk the path of immortals, even if he stayed behind to raise chickens and mend nets.
But then Gouyou winced.
That kind of wince that always came before bad news. He glanced around like the trees might be listening, then let out a heavy sigh, his usual energy suddenly dulled.
“Sorry,” Gouyou said quietly. “The village elder said… Mei Lin broke the marriage agreement her parents made with yours.”
Tian Gou blinked. “What?”
“A cultivator came a couple hours ago to confirm the annulment. Had the elder approve it.” Gouyou shifted, eyes lowered. “I’m sorry, Tian Gou… I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”
The river still flowed beside them.
But to Tian Gou, the world had just stopped.
The higher one rose, the harder the fall.
Moments ago, he’d felt like his head could touch the sky. Sunlight on his face. River at his feet. Future in his hands.
Now, it felt like he had plummeted straight into purgatory.
The despair hit like a collapsing mountain. Sudden, brutal, and all-consuming.
It wasn’t like when his parents died to monstrous beasts. Back then, he was too young. Too numb. The memory was blurry, half-dreamed. It had hurt, yes. But distantly. Muted.
This was different.
This was raw.
A familiar, ugly feeling clawed its way up from his stomach. Cold fingers scraped against his ribs, curled around his lungs. Breathing became a chore. His hands trembled. His knees nearly buckled.
It spread through him like poison.
He had dreamed. Hoped. Believed.
And just like that, it was gone.
Not stolen by fate. Not by beasts.
But by a girl he’d grown up with.
He really had nothing in this life.
His parents had left behind only a small, barely fertile plot of land, ravaged by beasts every winter, and the marriage contract with Mei Lin.
A shred of hope.
A dream he’d cradled like it was sacred.
And now even that had slipped through his fingers.
Tears welled up in his eyes. He was sure he was showing an unmanly figure. But he didn’t care.
Mei Lin hadn’t even come in person. Not to apologize. Not to explain. Not even to look him in the eye as she tore apart the bond their families had forged.
Just a quiet annulment. Like it had all been… an afterthought.
Tian Gou dropped to his knees, the dirt biting into his skin. He tilted his face to the sky, his chest heaving as a scream built inside him. Rage, grief, and betrayal coiled at the base of his throat like a beast ready to tear free.
Then, he felt it.
Something cold brushed against his foot right where the river lapped gently at the shore.
The chill wasn’t natural; it was sharper than water and heavier.
He looked down.
Half-sunken in the mud was a coin. Perfectly circular, gleaming with a faint metallic pulse in the dying light.
Just a coin…
Comments
Kreylix
Great chapter and all hail the return of Song Song.
Kreylix
“She was going to listen to or espect someone like that.” Typo
Undead Writer
Thanks for the chapter!
AdvocateOfDoors
A new hand touches the beacon! TFTC!
StarBat
Oh coin San. You've found someone with a ton of potential.
Bereftreader
Nice to see Song Song again, hoping she reunites with LF soon. His solo arc is cool, but she adds chaos to his life that's fun to read. Course rn feels like an accumulation arc in preparation for the next big climax.
Green0Photon
And so the cycle turns. Really hoping that Song Song continues her savvy that she gained from LF and refuses the fruit. Probably made from his own heart or some shit.
DuskDeadman
Shit
Isiah Debarros
I think that he fucked up and is in limbo
Luis Z
So the coin was parasitic saintly grandpa my ass
GODKINGASH
Lmai
Arrogant Savant
Surely the old ghost will wise up that he's being used.
