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Cultivation Nerd: Chapter 342
🕑 Added 2025-11-10 16:48:54 +0000 UTCChapter 342 - A Crazy Plan
I caught the stench of the bear’s breath as its roar washed over me, hot and heavy, rank like sour morning breath left to fester. It rolled across the air in waves, clinging to my nose with the acrid tang of rot and stale meat.
“Gross. I could feel some of that slobber hit my barrier,” I muttered.
Thankfully, I kept a skin-tight jade barrier around my body, so none of it actually touched me.
The bear’s gaze sharpened. It was intelligent, human-like, and it understood my words. Without hesitation, it swung a massive paw toward me.
Even knowing Song Song was nearby, the way the wind warped around that strike and the shrill whistle of its claws slicing air was terrifying.
Instead of retreating, I stepped forward, slipping under its arm just as the paw slammed into the ground where I’d been a heartbeat earlier.
The impact boomed like thunder, snow erupting into mist while the ground cracked beneath its weight.
Yeah, this guy was close to Core Formation.
I had a feeling Song Song had sensed other Foundation Establishment beasts but chose this one on purpose. It was probably the next most dangerous thing after the Core Formation creature she’d mentioned earlier.
That woman was a piece of work… but honestly, it was hard not to enjoy her company. We bickered for fun, insulted each other freely, and somehow, it never left a scar.
But the bear didn’t care about any of that. With a guttural growl, it swung again, its sheer strength blowing away the lingering mist. Its claws tore through the air, gray eyes burning with primal focus.
The way it moved was wild and unrefined, I could tell it wasn’t used to fighting opponents my size. Pure brute force, no technique.
And it still hadn’t used a single Foundation Technique. That was rare. Beasts at this level usually discovered their element early on, unless they cultivated purely on instinct.
A nine-star Foundation Establishment beast with no control over their element? That was… fascinating.
Huh. You learn something new every day.
As the next claw came down, I activated my Foundation Technique. Time seemed to slow, the world moving in syrupy motion. Then, I triggered Galloping Horse Power, and a translucent green horse tail unfurled from my tailbone.
Twenty afterimages burst from my position as I darted forward, reappearing atop the bear’s massive head before it even realized I’d moved. Two jade daggers materialized in my hands, and I plunged them into its eyes.
The beast roared, stumbling as I leapt off its skull, landing a few dozen yards away. The moment my boots hit the snow, I released my technique.
The daggers disintegrated, and for a fleeting instant, I felt a rush of pride.
Then the bear’s roar deepened, its Qi flaring with cold, rising like a storm.
Oh great. I’d just made it angry.
The beast roared in pain, thrashing wildly; its massive arms uprooted trees and shattered rocks. Qi flared from its body like a beacon, and the earth beneath it cracked under the pressure.
Once again, its sheer attack power was impressive; the air itself trembled with the force behind each swing.
It would take a skilled cultivator, using a technique with which they had some experience, to generate that kind of power. Sometimes, it was amazing to see the differences between humans and beasts, and even the differences between beasts themselves.
But even now, it wasn’t using any Foundation Techniques. And I wasn’t interested in torturing beasts just to satisfy my curiosity.
I moved again, activating Galloping Horse Power, though this time I left no visible trace. My speed carried me up before the creature even registered the movement, and once again, I stood atop its head.
Before it could react, I placed my palm against its skull.
Eight Mind Phantoms Technique.
The world went dark.
When I opened my eyes, I stood beneath a frozen sky, an endless void of blackness with no stars, no light, just a single snowy moon the size of a small town. Nothing but dunes of frost stretched before me.
“Huh. So this is your mind?” I said, my voice echoing into the void. “Interesting. The blindness is already creeping in. You’re probably wondering how you’ll live now that you can’t see anymore, aren’t you?”
The snow ahead shifted, swirling into a dune that rose and reshaped itself into a humanoid form, a muscular man with the head of a bear.
“Human,” it rumbled, strangely calm. “Why are you here?”
“Sorry for disturbing your rest,” I replied. “Though now that I think about it, I’m not all that sorry. Tell me, how many humans have you killed?”
The bear-headed figure growled, baring its fangs, and charged straight at me, jaws wide to bite my head off.
It wasn't like I cared much about how moral a person was, as long as they didn't want to kill me. But it made it easier when wanting to harm others, knowing that they were not good people.
“This is interesting and all,” I said, raising my hand, “but I already confirmed what I needed to.”
The mental world twisted.
Dark metal chains burst from the snow, slamming into the ground around the beast. The links glowed faintly, and within their black sheen were the distorted faces of screaming human souls trapped within their steel.
The next time I blinked, I was back in the real world, my palm still pressed against the bear’s head. The creature was calm now, its will shackled, the connection between our minds pulsing faintly like a tether of light.
Huh, this was a strange feeling.
“You’ve got everything under control,” Song Song said, standing casually on a thin branch of a nearby tree.
“Yep,” I replied.
At that moment, the bear raised one of its massive paws and waved at her. It was stupidly easy to control creatures with this technique, and I barely needed to give it commands.
Though, that ease was worrying. Controlling something eight stars above me shouldn’t have been possible… and yet, there was no strain at all.
“So,” I asked, shrugging, “what now?”
Song Song’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Are you in the mood to try taking down a Core Formation beast?”
I nodded. “Sure. We could give it a try. And hey, now we’ve got the big guy helping us.”
Dangerous? Absolutely.
But I wanted to see just how far Eight Mind Phantoms could reach, against something truly powerful.
I’d made the decision to develop this technique because I needed it to become as powerful as possible. At the time, I thought any second-guessing, like the unease bubbling in my chest right now, would fade once I committed.
Apparently not.
What a mess.
Taking a slow breath, I forced my thoughts to quiet and followed Song Song as she flew ahead.
The Four-Armed Snow Bear flared its Qi like a tidal wave just to stay aloft, showing absolutely no restraint or control.
He was heavier, so some inefficiency was expected since it took more Qi to keep him afloat, but this? This was proof of how much humans benefited from gathering knowledge and passing it down to one another.
We flew toward a distant mountain range. When Song Song said she had sensed something nearby, what she really meant was several dozen miles northwest.
Snow thickened as we approached, with wind whipping in icy sheets until even our vision blurred. I conjured a spherical barrier around us, its translucent sheen pushing the blizzard aside as we continued through the storm.
Eventually, a jagged mountain came into view. At its base lay a narrow, half-hidden cave, its entrance nearly concealed beneath heavy drifts of snow and long, dagger-like icicles that hung like fangs.
Now that we were within range, I could sense it too, the creature Song Song had detected. A four- or five-star Core Formation beast. That was impressive. And it carried no familiar Qi signature from the beasts that had attacked during last year’s wave.
Still, approaching it in its own territory felt reckless. It would have the advantage here.
“How confident are you that we can take this thing on?” I asked, frowning.
“Alone? Ten to twenty percent,” she answered, her usual recklessness replaced by cool calculation mid-speech. “But with you and your shiny new arrays, I’d say eighty. Add our big fluffy friend as a meat shield, and that’s at least eighty-five, maybe even ninety.”
I nodded, taking her word for it. Song Song’s instincts in battle were usually accurate.
Of course, we both knew those odds could shift dramatically depending on the beast’s Foundation Techniques or worse, its Core Technique.
We descended slowly, feet brushing the wind as we landed at the mountain’s base. The cave’s mouth yawned before us, vast and half-buried under layers of snow.
Inside, the tunnel was wide enough for our four-armed companion to enter without crouching. His heavy steps echoed through the icy place.
“I think we should build a secret cave base like this someday,” Song Song said, her tone bright with sudden enthusiasm.
“If we did, we’d live like unwashed barbarians,” I replied. “A secret cave sounds nice until you remember you have to actually maintain it. Logistics would kill the mystery fast.”
Her dream died in a heartbeat, but at least the disappointment distracted her from picking fights.
And honestly, she wasn’t wrong; this kind of place would make a good base… if one ignored how much work went into keeping a secret mountain lair livable.
Of course, knowing Song Song, she likely had an idea to kill anyone who worked on the base afterward to keep it a secret. But she knew better than to voice such ideas with me around. No matter what she said, I would not agree to that.
As we walked deeper into the cave, we weren’t surrounded by darkness. Instead, faint light pulsed beneath our feet, glowing stones buried under thin sheets of ice. They looked and felt like spirit stones, the kind used as currency among cultivators.
Our steps echoed softly, the sound swallowed by frost-laden walls, until we reached the end of the cavern. But what awaited us wasn’t a slumbering beast.
Sprawled across the icy floor lay a tiger the size of a carriage, its fur white and gleaming under the faint shimmer of frost. Unlike ordinary tigers, its pelt bore dark patterns like a snow-born leopard.
Its blue eyes lifted lazily toward us. Yet the beast didn’t rise. It lay with its head resting on a massive paw, grooming the other with indifference. Every movement was slow, deliberate, radiating the kind of confidence that came from knowing everything in its domain was already under control.
And for all we knew, it might be. Depending on its Foundation Techniques.
The tiger’s gaze flicked from us to the bear lumbering behind.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” it said, its voice low and unmistakably masculine. “I never thought humans would walk in on their own. Especially with a bear trailing behind like a sad kitten.”
I suspected it was trying to provoke the Four-Armed Snow Bear, but the joke was wasted. The bear wouldn’t move unless I allowed it to.
“Don’t bother searching for traps,” the tiger continued. “There are none. There’s no danger here either. I’m not in the mood to attack humans today.”
Naturally, we didn’t take him at his word. A quick glance around revealed a pile of bones stacked in the far corner, remnants of beasts and men alike.
So much for harmless.
The tiger followed my gaze, and its eyes met mine.
“That was before I became a Core Formation beast,” it said evenly, as if explaining itself. “Now that I can speak your language, I’ve come to find humans… fascinating. Once, they were just food. Now, they’re interesting.”
Fascinating or not, his words didn’t make him any less dangerous. He probably hadn’t encountered many humans out here. Perhaps he viewed us as another race of beasts.
If that was the case, then the humans he’d killed before were likely ordinary folk, far beneath him in his mind. Because he would have known that cultivators used techniques, and we were pretty different.
I almost pitied him. In another situation, I might’ve tried to reason with him, maybe even bridge the gap between our races.
But this wasn’t the time for that. I needed to test my techniques, and mercy wasn’t a luxury I could afford anymore. Our future enemies were far beyond mercy.
As for this one…
I took a step forward. Then another.
The tiger’s eyes narrowed. A low growl rumbled from its chest as it rose to its feet, tension rippling through its frame.
It opened its mouth, whether to roar or to speak, I never found out.
A square-shaped array flared to life around it, locking space itself in place. The air warped faintly, solidifying into an invisible cage.
Level 5 arrays could restrain even Core Formation cultivators, though maintaining one drained my Qi fast. I’d have maybe a minute or two.
Song Song stepped up beside me, saying nothing. Together, we walked through the black barrier as if it weren’t there. Inside, neither of us felt its effects.
The tiger roared, Qi flaring violently as it tried to break free. But before it could act further, I reached forward and pressed my palm against its head, right between its eyes.
The world twisted.
And when my vision cleared, I was standing in another place entirely, within the tiger’s mind.
Comments
Brian Hoffmann
I feel so bad for the tiger :( just minding its own business :(
Diplodicus
I am once again reminded of that high level array that needs 5 kinds of beasts...
