Cultivation Nerd - Chapter 170: A Peaceful Day

I sat down and read the history book with the silly name. Surprisingly, it had a detailed explanation of everything. I was used to the author’s life story filling a quarter to half of the book, but it seemed luck had finally shifted to my side.

..

After finishing the book, I returned it to the stammering receptionist, and she said a brief—thank you—that if I weren’t a cultivator, I wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

She was clearly unsuitable for a customer service job, but knowing how everything here was decided by a roll of the dice, I wasn’t surprised they had hired her.

As I stepped outside the library, the setting sun peeked over the towering golden walls in the distance. Sunlight reflected off the gold and gems embedded in the roofs of buildings, painting the white-stoned road a crimson red as if a giant’s body had been dragged through the streets.

I walked through the crimson streets, with my mind adrift on what to do next. One thing was certain: I didn’t have the luck to roll the dice again to enter tomorrow. Not only might I fail, but there was always that five percent chance of rolling a one. So, I wasn’t planning to leave the city today.

However, I did need to send a letter to Song Song. Without me, she might not try too hard to hold back her worst vices. The last thing we needed was for someone to turn out dead.

As I wandered, searching for something interesting to do with my evening and perhaps finding an inn, my gaze landed on a plain-faced woman buying food. She was trying to choose between two pieces of meat—a cow thigh and some kind of rib. She looked indecisive, but in the end, she sighed, took out a gray twenty-sided die, and threw it on the floor.

It landed on a thirteen, and her eyes lit up.

“I’ll take the bull thigh,” she said.

Did she just decide to roll the dice to solve her indecision? I wouldn’t say that basing decisions on a dice roll is wise. At least it was quick if nothing else.

Either way, it wasn’t my place to interfere or try to convince the locals to do things differently. Even if I tried to help, it would fall on deaf ears.

Goldwatch City had a long history of internal and external conflicts, and they had fought to preserve their strange traditions. To briefly summarize how a city like this came to be, this city was essentially what would happen if a gambling addict had too much power and decided to build a settlement.

Most of the golden-haired, blue-eyed people were his descendants in one way or another. Thousands of years had passed since the Immortal had fathered children, but the blonde gene was very strong. Like many others, the Gambler Immortal had such a large harem that his descendants might accidentally be inbreeding to keep the bloodline pure. For some, the family tree might be a circle.

Wait, would they decide whether to marry someone based on a dice roll? That would be wild.

There were probably dice rolls like: This is my cousin thrice removed. Should I marry him or not?

While I amused myself with thoughts about the stranger aspects of a gambling addiction, I noticed the first sign of poverty in the city.

A young kid dressed in rags was hidden in one of the alleyways. Usually, with how bright everything was in this city during the day, even the alleys were well-lit. But long shadows had been cast with the sun setting, allowing people to hide in those shadows and alleys.

The kid couldn’t have been older than ten. He wore a gray robe, dirt smudged on his cheeks, and the robe was ripped in several places. The strangest thing about it was that the kid stared straight at me.

I contemplated stopping to help him or give him some coin. But my gaze wandered toward the people around me, all dressed in silk clothes and looking wealthy. None of them seemed to even notice the kid.

Oh well, I always did what I wanted.

I walked closer to the kid. When he saw me approaching, he looked surprised and quickly ran off into another corner. But his presence vanished as soon as he was out of sight.

While surprising, I had encountered far weirder situations by now. So I walked to where he had disappeared. It was an empty, dark alley, as clean as everywhere else in this city.

Usually, I might have doubted my senses. But as a cultivator, I not only sensed his presence but also the shifting wind, the sounds, the smells—everything that had alerted me to his presence had vanished. Yet, there were signs that this wasn’t just my imagination or an illusion.

After that, I returned to the street and approached a man who seemed to be waiting for someone. He looked young, likely in his late teens, with shaggy brown hair and a pleasant scent. Everything suggested he was waiting for a date or something important.

He had been there when the kid was looking at me, too.

“Excuse me,” I called out to the man, pointing to where I had seen the kid. “Did you see a homeless kid there?”

He looked confused for a second before shaking his head. “Sorry, sir. No, I didn’t see anyone there.”

A homeless kid in a city like this stood out. So either he was too distracted by his impending date, or he was an excellent actor.

This place just became so thrilling and mysterious. I was getting excited about unveiling this so-called secret.

After that, I walked around the crimson roads until sunset. That triggered some mechanism, releasing yellow light from the ground and creating an almost magical appearance of a white road leading through the town.

During my aimless walk, I stumbled upon a restaurant called the Golden Tea Leaf. It was a three-story building, bustling with people coming and going.

I walked inside, where laughter and conversation filled the air, with soft music playing in the background. A woman in a red robe, too large for her and almost spilling out of her frame, was playing the harp on a small stage. It wasn’t surprising that most of the patrons were men.

People here were buying food and drinks; from what I could smell, most of the drinks were alcoholic.

I thought the restaurant was called the Golden Tea Leaf? With a name like that, one would assume the place was classy and served tea.

A plain-faced waiter approached his eyes quickly, noting the storage ring on my right hand before he bowed his head. “What can I help you with, honored guest?”

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Smart—he recognized the ring and already assumed I was a cultivator. I used to work as a waiter during my teen years, and noticing small details like this was key to getting a good tip. Complimenting the customer on their car or being extra polite often paid off. It was all strategy, and being nice worked well, too.

Some might see it as a trick, but I respected the effort behind it.

“Thanks. Can you take me to a private table?” I asked.

The waiter nodded. “Of course, honorable guest.”

I was seated at a free table on the second floor and ordered tea and meat seared with a grape-flavored sauce. The meat was delicious, and the tea was okay too.

The second floor was quieter than the first, though it was more like an inner balcony, allowing me to see the activity below.

But I didn’t pay much attention to the performer or the drunkards. Instead, I took out a letter and began writing. I planned to send this to Song Song.

By the time I finished, night had fallen, though the tea restaurant was still lively.

I called the waiter over and paid two gold coins for my meal, which was fifty silver. The leftover money was a tip. That price for a meal was outrageous by usual standards—it would take months of work for the average farmer to earn that kind of money.

“Do you know of any ways to send letters outside?” I asked the waiter as I was walking down the stairs.

“Oh, you must be a newcomer, right?” he asked with a polite smile. “By the way, are you sure I can’t get you anything else? A snack or something? It’ll be on the house.”

“No thanks,” I shook my head. “But you’re right about me being a newcomer.”

There was no need to play characters here.

“How high did you roll when you came in?” the waiter asked. It seemed like the initial dice roll was very important.

“Sixteen,” I answered, seeing no reason to hide it.

The waiter’s eyes widened slightly before he quickly composed himself and chuckled. “Just give it to the guards at the gate you entered from. If they can, they’ll personally deliver your letters for free. It’s the least they could do.”

I nodded and walked out into the night. People were still out and about despite the sun setting quite a while ago.

As I approached the gate, I noticed a butcher closing up shop and a brown-haired woman dressed as a man watching me.

As a cultivator, I didn’t need to turn around to know when an ordinary person was watching me. It was a weird sixth sense. But why were they looking at me specifically?

Not long after, I walked to the city guards at the gate. The first thing I noticed was that, despite the silver-masked guards looking the same, they were different people. They had changed shifts. However, the golden-armored man was the same. During the night, they were no longer accepting newcomers but still guarding the closed gate.

As I approached, the golden-armored man looked at me and smiled, his rows of white teeth standing out and glistening even in the darkness.

“Oh? The lucky man,” the golden-armored guard said. That was a signal as all the silver-armored men straightened their posture. But the leader continued, “How can we help you today?”

I took out the letter from my storage ring. “I heard that if I wanted a letter delivered outside, you guys would do it.”

“Of course,” the golden-armored man nodded. “We are at your service. To whom do you need this letter delivered?”

“Song Song. She has long dark hair, is from the Blazing Sun Sect, and has blue eyes,” I said.

“Oh, you don’t need to explain more. I know her quite well. Her grandfather was honored in our city,” he said, taking my letter and placing it in his storage ring. “Anything else? Do you want me to tell her something?”

“No, I was just wondering which inn you’d recommend for a good night’s sleep,” I replied.

“Of course. I’ll have one of the Silver Soldiers personally escort you. The roads can become quite convoluted at night,” said the golden-armored man as one of the silver-armored men stepped forward.

After that, the silver guard led me through the streets of Goldwatch City. Neither of us said anything, and he was as quiet as the first guy.

He led me to a place called Mournful Moon Inn. It was a high-end establishment that seemed relatively empty. The place was eight floors high, built in a traditional Chinese style, with paper lamps everywhere.

“This is your place,” said the silver guard. His voice was soft, making it hard to tell whether he was a man or a woman.

“Thanks. You can return to your duties now,” I said, walking into the inn as the guard nodded and walked off.

The inside of the inn seemed devoid of customers, but it was quite luxurious. The first floor appeared to be a restaurant or dining area for guests.

A dark-haired woman stood behind the counter. When she saw me, her smile widened, and she stepped off her chair. But as soon as her feet touched the ground, her height dipped, revealing that she was so short she barely reached my chest.

“Honored guest!” she called out, sounding a little too eager. “What can we do for you?”

“Why is the inn so empty?” I asked.

“That’s because we only accept customers after a certain high roll. This place is designed with luxury in mind, catering to the high-rollers in the city. Those guests are very beneficial to the city,” she explained.

Goldwatch City had an entire structure dedicated to keeping people here?

“Are you sure you should be telling me that?” I asked, raising a questioning brow. What she said sounded like a scheme that would be better kept a secret. If this was what they were willing to reveal, what could they be hiding?

“Of course. We aren’t allowed to lie to the high rollers. Keeping secrets might push them away needlessly,” she declared.

That was an interesting prospect. The dice roll was more than just a cultural tradition. People were going above and beyond to keep the high rollers here.

“Are there any other people staying here?” I asked.

“Yes, but they’re in their rooms. Two of them are from the Titanic Sword Sect, and one is from the Azure Frost Sect,” she said.

So, other people had rolled quite high as well. Also, since they were from Sects, they were cultivators. Why was there no non-cultivator here? Were they keeping the high-roller mortals and cultivators apart? That was a good idea.

“Can you show me to my room? Also, how much will the stay cost?” I asked.

“The stay here is free. Follow me, and I’ll take you to your room,” she smiled, signaling me to follow her.

As she ushered me through the door of a room on the third floor, my expectations of luxury were met and exceeded. The space that unfolded before me was more akin to an opulent apartment than a mere room. Lavishly furnished, each piece seemed to whisper tales of expensive taste.

The room was segmented into areas that catered to every conceivable need: a cozy reading nook replete with plush armchairs and a wealth of books, a sleek kitchenette gleaming with brand-new pots and pans, and a dining area that was under the soft glow of a chandelier-like floating artifact. I could feel the Qi used for the lighting.

Dominating the center of the bedroom was a vast bed sprawling sideways, leaving an expanse of untouched sheets; its luxurious linens looked soft. The air held a subtle fragrance, a lavender and sandalwood blend. This was not just a place to stay—it was a room meant to bedazzle the mind with luxury.

But despite the luxuries, nothing here really drew my heart. Perhaps when I was a young man, working too much and being paid too little, such luxuries might have overwhelmed me.

However, now, a bed was just a place to sleep; sleep itself was something I needed to stay well-rested. Compared to using Qi, learning new techniques or arrays, this place failed to live up to the wonder.

As I lay in bed, I couldn’t help but think that today was another peaceful day…

Not being under Song Song’s protection and still having a peaceful day felt strange.

That dice roll may be right. I was lucky during my stay here, and everything was so convenient.

Was there some technique or array that made the dice roll a valid way to predict the future? Perhaps the dice themselves enhanced the user’s luck?

How they would do that, I had no idea. But this city was created by an immortal, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they could grasp something as abstract as luck.

I’d love to learn how something like that worked.

With those thoughts in mind, I drifted off to sleep, the soft light of the full moon brushing against my skin through the open window.