Cultivation Nerd - Chapter 149: Fifth Generation
Hu Jin stared at the architectural marvel in front of him—a red ruby palace that shimmered under the sunlight, its surfaces reflecting an otherworldly glow. The structure was a harmonious blend of grandiose and ominous.
“Should we turn around?” Hu Jin asked his master. He felt an uneasy sense of foreboding despite not being attacked and seeing no signs of an ambush.
His apprehension was partly due to suddenly falling into some kind of array. Yet, he felt more endangered here than when he fought on the front lines of the Beast Wave.
“No, this was clearly created by a high-level array conjurer,” his master explained softly. “At this level of arrays, the array conjurer can impose absolute rules within their barriers. Even a Core Formation Cultivator would have to obey those rules.”
“You seem to know a lot about barriers… Can you get us out?” Hu Jin asked.
Usually, he would have tried to brave the situation. But something about this place made him hesitate as if he was better off not knowing what lay ahead.
“While I know a bit about arrays and have dabbled in many things over my long life, I’m not an array conjurer myself. Talent is necessary for these things beyond a certain level,” his master explained. His misty form next to Hu Jin morphed into smoke before retreating into the coin in Hu Jin’s pocket. “Well, we just have to figure out the absolute rules of this array, and there should be a way out.”
“Absolute rule?” Hu Jin was unfamiliar with the terminology his master was using.
Suddenly, a strange pulse emanated from the ruby building, like a beating heart, coming from the roof of the temple-like structure.
“An absolute rule is usually something that high-level array conjurers put in their barriers to achieve a certain effect or reward. For example, an array conjurer at that level could make it so all food except tomatoes tastes rotten,” his master sighed. Hu Jin felt a drain from his core as the coin in his pocket, where his master’s soul resided, grew warmer. “Even a Nascent Soul Cultivator would be subject to that rule inside the barrier.”
Hu Jin nodded, roughly understanding what his master meant. Arrays were complex, unlike Alchemy, which could be guided by gut feeling. His master often said that array conjurers needed precision and clarity in their intentions.
Of course, his master had also said that Hu Jin had no aptitude for it. Hu Jin had no idea whether that was a backhanded insult or a genuine assessment.
“What do you think the rules of this barrier are?” Hu Jin asked, turning around to get a better look at the forest behind him.
He didn’t notice anything different from before when he had stumbled upon the ruin. But then again, he hadn’t been paying attention to the trees or other small details.
“Well, the only way to find out is to walk in there,” his master encouraged him. “Don’t worry; if someone who could erect a barrier like this were still alive, we would both be dead or captured by now. The barrier isn’t as illusionary as it originally looked. Everything you see around you is actually real.”
Hu Jin was aware that he was over his head by now. The tone of his master’s voice made it clear—these were two dead men admiring each other’s craftsmanship.
“Rules can’t be absolute, so there is no need to be afraid. For example, something like, ‘the victim will be imprisoned for eternity,’ doesn’t work well, and the array would end up weak. Ironically, to make the barrier stronger, there has to be an escape route,” his master said.
Though Hu Jin couldn’t see it, he felt like his master was smiling, excited at the prospect of figuring out something complicated.
Hu Jin decided to trust his master and took a step forward toward the blazing-hot ruby structure. With each step, the temperature felt like it was increasing. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow, and as he went to wipe it off, he felt a biting cold sensation.
“The heat you’re feeling isn’t real,” his ever-helpful master said. “It is all in your mind. But now your body is confused and is acting like you’re burning up.”
With the reassurance that everything was in his head, Hu Jin walked forward without fear. Even when the heat became painful enough to make him feel like his organs were boiling in his own blood, he kept moving.
Hu Jin finally reached the shadow of one of the pillars, and immediately the heat disappeared. With his body accustomed to the heat, even the average temperature around him felt cold.
It was like going to sea after being in the sun all day. The water felt cold, but it actually wasn’t that cold.
“Keep moving. Barriers like this always have tricks. There could be an invisible timer where we would die when the countdown reached zero. Though array conjurers have to make ‘fair’ rules to create a strong barrier, it doesn’t mean they’re fair,” his master quickly brought him out of his delirium.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Hu Jin nodded breathlessly and began walking hurriedly. He passed the pillars and officially entered the temple.
The inside of the temple was similar to the outside. There was a soft warmth in the air, and the room was bare except for strange dark writings on the ceiling.
The only thing that stood out was a golden throne encrusted with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. Atop the throne was a bare skeleton with bleached bones, wearing a dark red robe with golden writing.
It resembled the uniform the Sect Leader had worn in the tournament.
But Hu Jin didn’t have much time to take in the room as an ancient voice rumbled around them, “Finally, someone found this place.”
His master said nothing, likely hiding. This served as a warning to Hu Jin that whatever the source of the voice, it was dangerous enough to make his master conceal his presence. This only happened when a Nascent Soul powerhouse was nearby.
“Who are you? Where are you?” Hu Jin asked, trying to act calm. It was more complicated than it sounded, but knowing he still had his master’s support helped.
“Think of me as the consciousness left behind to maintain the array. I’m technically imbued in the building itself,” the voice replied.
Hu Jin was on guard. He knew how these things usually went—there were legends of evil cultivators who were too stubborn to die, using strange techniques to keep themselves alive.
He narrowed his eyes, his senses heightened. Everything around him seemed to bubble and shift as he prepared for battle. By “ready,” he meant to lend his master all the Qi in his body to fight this thing off while he ran.
“Why are you so cautious? I thought you’d be used to ghosts and all those things, judging by how you haven’t thrown away that thing in your pocket,” the voice stated with eerie confidence.
Hu Jin’s blood went cold as he realized he was dealing with a dangerous opponent. Immediately, he was ready to lend his body to his master. This could turn out to be another difficult battle.
“Who are you?” Hu Jin asked, trying to buy time for his master to prepare anything he might have in mind.
“Me?” The voice chuckled. It was a hollow laugh devoid of emotion. “I’m the Fourth Generation Blazing Sun Sect Leader. As for my name? I’m called Song Wen.”
“Song Wen? Are you from the Song Clan?” Hu Jin didn’t really care, but he recalled the tournament where that crazy girl butchered her opponent.
“Of course. Out of the five Sect Leaders the Blazing Sun Sect has had, three have been from the Song Clan,” the old man’s voice echoed as the building shook. “Hopefully, there is another one. The one who stabbed me in the back to grab the position was such a bastard.”
Hu Jin clenched his fist, recalling a time when he was young. With talent to spare, he had many friends who had done all kinds of rituals and ended up as his sworn brothers. After his cultivation was broken, only a handful of those people supported him through tough times.
“I’m sure the Song Clan got or perhaps already got their revenge,” Hu Jin tried to comfort the man. This time, he wasn’t even entirely acting—a part of him felt sorry for the man who was betrayed.
He couldn’t tell for sure whether the clan had gotten its revenge since he had no idea what generation the current Sect Leader was from.
“I doubt that,” the man grumbled. “After all, they worked with that trash to stab me in the back!”
The ground under Hu Jin’s feet rumbled, and he was about to inquire why his clan would do something like that, but the man needed no prompting to continue.
“I was the Sect Leader, and my duty was to the Blazing Sun Sect first and foremost. How could I do my duty, knowing that the Song Clan engaged in brutal demonic rituals?” he asked rhetorically. Though Hu Jin couldn’t see him, he felt the man’s sadness through his words. “I learned many things as both a member of the Song Clan and the Sect Leader. Many… horrible things…”
Hu Jin felt a sharp sensation in his stomach, followed by a wave of euphoria washing over his body. It seemed like he could see and smell everything with heightened clarity. However, now was not the time to get distracted!
“I don’t know what game the Song Clan is playing nowadays. Perhaps they might be trying to play the benevolent card. But do not trust them!” the voice hollered. “Though they were never a big clan until the recent handful of millennia, the Song Clan is over a couple dozen millennia old.”
Hu Jin found himself bored again. He didn’t care about history or past events, but letting the old man rant worked to his advantage. After all, the old man hadn’t had anyone to talk to in a while. Even a monstrous thousand-year-old Nascent Soul Cultivator’s mentality would crumble under certain pressures.
“Nowadays, the Song Clan is known for inheriting the blood of the Blazing Sun Immortal. There was another immortal in the clan’s history, though nobody likes to mention this one,” the voice chuckled. An eerie feeling ran down Hu Jin’s spine. “Back in the day, over twenty thousand years ago, the clan had a disciple named Song Fa… who would later be known as the Blood Step Immortal!”
An uncomfortable silence followed. Hu Jin realized just how silent the whole place was without anyone speaking. The sounds of nature, rustling leaves, crickets—everything he usually took for granted—were all gone.
However, Hu Jin only dwelled on that for a short time. He was never the kind of guy who thought about things too much or pondered philosophy.
However, he was curious about the ending of the old man’s speech. Blood Step Immortal? Was that supposed to mean something? Immortals were rare, and many left their names in the annals of legends and history throughout their journey to reach the peak of cultivation. It was hard to tell fiction from fact, and many immortals were shrouded in myth. But even Hu Jin had never heard of the Blood Step Immortal.
Whether the strange voice noticed his curiosity or not was hard to tell. But it continued its rant.
“Of course, the Blood Step Immortal was an individualistic creature and never cared for his family. He was killed quickly after he became an immortal and barely left an inheritance. Perhaps that was for the best—who knows how the Western Continent would suffer with the Song Clan at the top,” the man’s voice turned somber, calming down from his rant. “Also, the only thing the guy left behind was some useless notes on how to learn an otherworldly language.”