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Cultivation Nerd: Chapter 10
🕑 Added 2024-02-18 12:09:40 +0000 UTCChapter 10 - Vomit on My Sweater
Now, a moral dilemma was in my hands. While it was evident that I wouldn’t be able to save the entire village if disaster struck, I believed I could at least rescue some of the villagers, particularly the children.
However, I wouldn't label myself heartless, there was a limit to the risks I was willing to take for strangers. My lips felt dry, and my body remained frozen in place as every instinct screamed against moving even a single step toward such imminent danger.
But then, a sudden chill enveloped the air, diverting my attention from thoughts of my next move. A large crystal formed above the Monstrous boar, causing it to roar in response, its steamy aura swirling around its massive form.
As the crystal shimmered in the moonlight, I managed to get a clearer look at it—it was no crystal; it was a giant icicle. Despite my weakness compared to the beast, the icicle descended and pierced the creature straight through its spine, exiting from its abdomen.
What the fuck had I stumbled into?
With the villagers now safe, there was no longer a reason for me to wrestle with moral dilemmas. Whatever food shortages they might have faced would now be resolved by the colossal beast that had been killed in their backyard.
With the innocents secure, I turned on my heels and sprinted in the opposite direction. The trees blurred past me as I pushed my body to its limits, propelled by the agility of Rushing Bull Steps.
Though I knew I would likely have to deal with pain for days to come from abusing Rushing Bull Steps, I felt I had no other choice. The battle would undoubtedly draw the attention of any nearby cultivators, and the situation could quickly escalate into a bloodbath—a scenario I wanted no part of.
Cultivators were greedy, and I knew there was a high probability of encountering death battles, even if I were fortunate enough to avoid many cultivators noticing me—something I highly doubted.
As I continued to flee, I gradually began to tear off my sect uniform. There was no telling how many enemy cultivators or spies lurked around the Blazing Sun Sect, ready to exploit the chaos. They might seize the opportunity to target Blazing Sun Sect disciples amid the turmoil.
Trees blurred around me, and I tried to run as fast as possible when a sharp, swishing sound sliced through the air. Instinctively, I ducked, narrowly evading a metal sword that whizzed over my head.
My heart almost jumped out of my chest as I looked up and saw my reflection in the steel blade.
This was a situation I had thought about countless times. But reality was often quite different from what the mind conjured up. There was little time for thinking, so I relied solely on my instincts.
I retaliated with a swift kick, but the attacker did a backflip over it and dodged swiftly in mid-air. But I rotated my hips, built momentum, and sent another kick toward his face. There was no chance for him to dodge this time.
But as my kick connected, he barely blocked it with the side of his sword. With deft grace, he landed on a nearby tree branch.
His wavy dark hair was pushed to the side by the wind, revealing his intense, dilated brown eyes.
His sword gleamed in the sunlight as he tightened his grip on it, its edge seemingly razor-sharp. The weapon emitted no Qi, indicating it wasn't an artifact—otherwise, I would have been in serious trouble.
No words were exchanged between us; none were needed. He had made an attempt on my life, and unlike the bandits I encountered earlier, this guy was a genuine threat.
There was an invisible connection between us, and for that brief moment I wasn't sure if it was just my delusions, but it felt like I could understand this man's intentions.
Was this the so-called learning to know another person through fighting?
Either way, it was clear that neither of us would emerge from this encounter unscathed.
Clad in simple attire, he bore the semblance of a rogue cultivator unaffiliated with any sect, or perhaps he, like me, concealed his sect association.
With a crouch, the sinister feeling around him intensified. The branch below his feet trebled and shattered into pieces as he shot toward me like a bullet.
I leaped backward as his sword sliced downward, effortlessly cleaving through the branch I had stood on like a razor, leaving behind a clean, precise cut.
His swing left him momentarily exposed. I seized the opportunity and kicked off another tree, charging at him and using the Piercing Fang Fist technique. As the air around my fist twisted and whooshed toward his face, his eyes widened, a grimace contorting his features as he barely raised his sword to block the attack.
A resounding thud echoed through the air as he was thrown backward, accompanied by the clanging of metal. A sudden, piercing pain shot up my arm, and warmth trickled down my elbow.
The man crashed through a nearby tree but rose to his feet almost immediately, showing no visible signs of damage. From what I could discern, he possessed strength comparable to mine—a seven-star body-tempering youngster, likely accustomed to killing foes swiftly with decapitating blows. Prolonged battles didn't seem to be his forte.
Glancing down, I observed a deep gash spanning from wrist to elbow on my right arm, blood gushing forth in alarming quantities. Panic surged through me.
How had I been cut?
A chill went through my heart. I hadn't even seen the blade strike me!
Could it be some sort of Sword Technique?
Struggling to quell my racing thoughts, I took deep, shaking breaths—a futile attempt to calm myself in the face of bleeding out. Despite the gruesome wound, I felt no pain.
Was the blade poisoned? Some creatures used numbing agents to mask their venomous bites. I prayed that it was merely adrenaline dulling my senses.
Observing the man as he crouched, it became apparent that neither of us possessed extensive experience in prolonged combat. However, unlike him, I lacked any experience in taking a life. Yet, that was what I needed to do.
Clarity settled over me, my heart rate steadied, and my senses sharpened to an acute edge. I could almost feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, the rhythm of his breaths. Poison, blood loss, and pain could wait—the immediate threat demanded my full attention.
Why worry about something that could kill me later when there was something that could kill me right now?
Yeah, all I had to do was move. Just keep moving!
As the man lowered into a crouch, his hand pressing into the ground, it became evident that he was preparing to employ a movement technique. His posture was unusual for a swordsman, suggesting he lacked a suitable technique for his discipline. Likely opting for the only choice available to him.
This revealed quite a lot. The chances of this guy being a young master were slim to none, meaning no one was backing him up. Otherwise, he would have gotten himself a better technique.
His fingers dug into the grassy dirt, muscles in his thighs bulging, veins pulsing along his palms.
Amidst the flurry of techniques racing through my mind, the many dozens of them I had memorized while reading in the sect's library one stood out—The Burst Tiger Step.
With a flash, he surged forward, akin to a wild beast in pursuit of its prey. While his speed was remarkable, true mastery of the Burst Tiger Step demanded a quadrupedal stance, a limitation that hindered its full potential.
Unlike the Rushing Bull Steps I had chosen, the Burst Tiger Step distributed pressure evenly across four limbs, allowing for agile movements even in rough terrain. However, like many techniques, it possessed vulnerabilities. Its feline-like assault left the user vulnerable mid-air, unable to evade a counterattack—a weakness I had accounted for in my selection.
Bending my legs, I initiated the Rushing Bull Steps, the world blurring around me as tunnel vision set in. With the target fixed before me, his mid-air vulnerability presented an opportunity. The forest landscape shifted, and for a fleeting moment, I debated targeting his head. Yet, even airborne, he could evade such an assault with a simple tilt.
The chest was the obvious target…
There was no time to think. The next thing I knew, my fist sank wrist-deep in blood. I could feel the bone and soft fleshy things touching my hand.
By the time I realized what happened, my opponent was staring at me wide-eyed. He coughed a mouthful of blood, some of it splattered on my face, and it smelled like copper.
Small chunks of flesh slid down my face, and I used my injured hand to wipe it off. What was left was small chunks of flesh in my hand.
Did he cough out a part of his lungs?
I pulled my fist back, blood squirted and chunks of flesh and pieces of lungs came with it. The guy's gaze met mine as a tear rolled down his eyes as his body plummeted to the ground. I picked off the pieces of flesh from my fist and tried to wipe the sticky blood away, but it left a red smudge.
I had to put up with this and the flesh bits under my nails, as there was no water nearby to wash it off.
Staring at his body and caving in the chest, something rose up my throat. "Ugh!" I leaned against a tree and threw up.
But in that moment of weakness, something shifted in the grass and someone came out.
Shit! Why did I waver here!?!
I hurriedly pulled my fists back up, the taste of vomit still in my mouth, and the feeling of wanting to throw up went away. Though I blocked the first attack, a cracking noise rang out as I flew back and smashed into a tree. A painful tingle went through my arms.
I looked down, hoping they hadn't been broken.
Thankfully, they were okay, except for the black selling in the middle of my forearms where the hit had landed. Though the attack hadn't broken my arms, there were probably some cracks along the bones.
I looked at my new opponent, and unlike my last one, this was a female. She had long dark hair in a ponytail, cold dark eyes, and a lanky body with a long face.
"Leave this body to me, and you can go," she stated coldly.
I narrowed my eyes on her.
How should I deal with this? She obviously couldn’t be trusted and it would be foolish to turn my back on her.
I was wounded, yet she refrained from attacking.
Why was she hesitating?
She had been observing the skirmish between me and the man, so she likely smelled an opportunity to kill me. However, despite the repulsion I had felt witnessing the man's gruesome death, I remained vigilant.
Fear cursed through my veins. There was little chance I would win this with these injuries. But I straightened my stance, and a facade of false bravado enveloped me like never before.
"Why extend such an offer?" I smirked. "Aren't you confident in taking me down? Believe in yourself a bit more, young lady. Self-confidence is key."
Whether this bravado stemmed from the original Liu Feng or myself was unclear. Perhaps it was a weird fusion of both. Regardless, an irrational and angry opponent was easier to deal with than a calm and rational one. Even if these insults failed to provoke her, each second of rest I gained after exerting myself was an advantage. Moreover, engaging in verbal sparring soothed my nerves.
"You talk mighty well for someone who was just throwing up for killing someone. What kind of man does that?" She muttered, assuming a pugilistic stance, her silver brass knuckles dripping with red liquid—a telltale sign of previous murderers because that wasn't my blood.
Her choice of weapon suggested she was a fistfighter. However, I remained vigilant for any potential tricks. Though it would be mighty inconvenient for her to go through all this trouble just to give the wrong first impression.
"What can I say? Deep down, I'm a tender-hearted man who recoils at the sight of blood," I sighed, shaking my head in mock regret.
Her eye twitched, her grip on the brass knuckles tightening.
Did she think that not being a murderous maniac was something to be ashamed of? Well, maybe it was in this world. It was a stark reminder of the harsh realities of this world, where strength often dictated one's fate.
This situation reminded me of an old saying: It is better to be a warrior in a garden, than a gardener in a war.
Here I stood, akin to the hapless gardener thrust into the midst of battle. If I hoped to survive, I needed to shed the guise of passivity and embrace the mantle of a warrior now! Not next year, or next month, or even tomorrow… I had to do it now!
My arms bore the scars of the previous skirmish, the gash inflicted by the man's blade reminding me of my vulnerability. Meanwhile, my legs felt numb from the untrained use of Rushing Bull Steps without the accompanying defensive technique I had intended to master.
"Talk about a shitty day," I muttered under my breath, casting a glance at the man's lifeless form, his chest caved in.
Normally, the sight of his wide, lifeless eyes would have repulsed me, yet now, I felt an eerie calmness. My stomach no longer churned. The only concern occupying my mind was the enemy before me, intent on killing me.
There were no thoughts of the uncertain future or the enigmatic jade-like beauty who likely lurked nearby. My sole preoccupation was with ending this girl before she ended me.
How odd. The notion of taking someone's life didn't evoke the slightest hesitation within me. Perhaps the awareness of the inevitable necessity of such actions in this world dulled the shock they should have elicited.
"You know, when a woman attempts to slay a handsome young cultivator, she often finds herself joining his harem in the end," I jest.
She gritted her teeth. "Well, you're far from handsome."
Oh, the xianxia girl had some comebacks? Never thought I would meet someone like her in this world. Under different circumstances, perhaps we could have been friends. Regrettably, her unwavering intent to end my life left me no choice but to reciprocate in kind.
"You're breaking my heart, lady," I retorted, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
Her response was immediate. With silent grace, she surged forward, her movements fluid and deadly. Her eyes burned with a palpable intensity, sending shivers down my spine.
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Author Note: Like every man out there, at one point in my life I was obsessed with Mixed Martial Arts (Spoiler: I was not good at it). For some reason, the mouthguard always made me feel like throwing up, and couldn't even keep it on for ten seconds. Very weak gag reflex. But when sparring, that gag reflex completely disappeared and it was like my body forgot about it. Adrenaline is a weird thing.
