Chapter 5: A Step Forward
Lester gripped the fabric of his blue polo shirt, his eyes scanning the message from Patrick on his computer screen. His heart pounded in his chest, torn between excitement and a paralyzing fear. He had made the decision to try cultivating, but reading the steps laid out before him brought a chilling reality to the forefront of his mind: cultivation was not just a journey of strength, but one filled with peril.
Patrick's message detailed the first crucial step: finding one’s spirit space. According to Patrick, it wasn’t inherently difficult but required immense patience, unwavering focus, and a strong will to succeed. “The spirit space would reveal itself naturally,” Patrick wrote. “But that’s when the real hard work begins.”
Lester's eyes flicked over each line of the message carefully. After finding the spirit space, he would need to analyze it and truly understand its nature. Only then would he be able to attract World Qi into it. The World Qi, that invisible energy now interwoven with the very fabric of Earth, was the key to everything. But guiding it into one's spirit space was like taming a wild beast—it required absolute concentration and a deep understanding of oneself.
The process of creating the core was what made Lester truly cautious. He read Patrick's words slowly, repeating them in his mind: “When creating the core, one must shape the World Qi with extreme care. Cracks can form easily. A cracked core means the Qi cannot flow properly, halting progress in cultivation entirely.”
Patrick had confessed in his message that he came dangerously close to cracking his core several times. Had he done so, he would have experienced a pain beyond anything physical—a pain that transcended the body and struck directly at the soul. The spirit space remained a mysterious realm that even the most brilliant scientists couldn’t fully understand, a realm where consciousness, energy, and perhaps even the essence of life itself intersected.
Patrick’s core was imperfect. He described it as a blob-like shape, uneven and asymmetrical, yet it was whole and uncracked. “It does the job,” he had written, a hint of relief evident in his words. “And for that, I’m happy.”
As Lester continued reading, he noted Patrick's advice on the ideal conditions for cultivation. The right environment was crucial—a place free from disturbances. Any distraction, any sudden interruption while creating the core, could result in severe damage. A core shattered by outside interference could lead to spiritual backlash, or worse, death. Lester glanced around his small, remote home and felt a sense of comfort. He lived in an isolated part of the Philippines, far from the chaos of civilization. Here, he was safe from most interruptions.
Another critical piece of advice was to eat well before beginning the process. Cultivation could take days, weeks, or even months without pause. During this period, one would enter a state where their need for food or water diminished significantly. Patrick himself had taken over a month to create his core, his body sustained only by the strange effects of the cultivation process.
After reading the message, Lester leaned back in his chair, his mind whirling with thoughts. He was overwhelmed with gratitude for Patrick's guidance. His friend had not only succeeded where so many others had failed but was now sharing his hard-earned knowledge selflessly. Lester quickly typed a reply filled with thanks, but he suspected Patrick would already be deep in research for his next steps. Such was the life of a cultivator—constantly striving for greater power, seeking seclusion to train, and only emerging to test their strength or to battle a rampaging beast.
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Or worse, another cultivator.
Lester made his way to his small, modest kitchen. The cupboards were lined with simple ingredients: rice, canned goods, dried fruits, and vegetables. He gathered some food and carried it back to his room. He turned on the television, which was always set to the Cultivation Channel. There, the same female newscaster from the day before was now talking about something else—another cultivator’s next move.
“The Boulder Brawler is looking for disciples!” she announced, her tone filled with a mix of excitement and urgency. “News has just come in that he has reached the end of his cultivation book and is now planning to continue on his own. As we all know, cultivating without the guidance of a complete manual is extremely dangerous and often fatal. But anything is possible! He hopes to pass down his teachings to one lucky, talented individual, in case he does not succeed in his own journey.”
The screen cut to an aerial view of a large temple, where thousands of people had already gathered, lining up for a chance to be chosen as his disciple. The temple was set in a mountainous region, its stone steps winding up to grand gates guarded by formidable warriors.
“There are over five thousand applicants for this position, and the winner will be announced in a month!” the newscaster continued. “The requirements to try out are simple: a completed core before the age of eighteen!”
Lester leaned forward, watching the screen closely. He knew of the Boulder Brawler—a cultivator ranked thirty-first in the world. Though he was only slightly above a Beginning Stage Cultivator, he was not to be underestimated. His cultivation technique allowed him to transform his skin into a stone-like texture, making it nearly impenetrable. His signature move, Raining Boulders of Death, was a fearsome spectacle that could decimate entire battlefields.
Unlike many other cultivators who gained fame by slaying powerful beasts, the Boulder Brawler had become famous for killing another cultivator. The man he killed was the infamous Argentinian Blood Devil, a rogue cultivator notorious throughout South America for using human blood to draw sigils on his body, amplifying his powers through grotesque rituals. The Boulder Brawler, hailing from Chile, had finally had enough of his evil acts and took him down in a brutal battle that was streamed live to millions. Every attack from the Blood Devil had bounced off his stone-like skin, proving useless against his formidable defense.
Lester marveled at the thought of such a battle—a showdown between two powerful cultivators, one using darkness and blood, the other wielding stone and earth. Cultivation was not just about strength; it was about choices, ethics, and how far one was willing to go for power.
The requirements to become the Boulder Brawler's disciple were strict—only those who had completed their core by the age of eighteen could apply. The opportunity promised not only an advanced cultivation technique but also direct mentorship from a formidable cultivator. Lester knew that even if he managed to create a core right now, he wouldn’t qualify for such an apprenticeship due to his age.
As the news report moved on to other topics, Lester finished his meal. He turned off the television, placing his empty plate to the side, and took a deep breath. His heart pounded with a mix of fear and anticipation. It was time.
He went through Patrick's guidelines one last time, ensuring he understood every detail. He knew there was no room for error. With each passing second, the sense of urgency grew stronger. He couldn’t afford to hesitate any longer.
Lester took a moment to center himself, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, calming his nerves. He moved to the center of his small, sparsely furnished room. The world outside was quiet—only the distant sounds of rustling leaves and the soft hum of insects filled the air. Here, in his secluded corner of the world, he would begin his journey.
“I’m ready,” Lester whispered to himself, feeling the weight of his decision settle on his shoulders. His mind was clear, his body relaxed but alert. He knew this path would not be easy, but it was the only path left to him in this dangerous new world.
With a determined expression, he closed his eyes and began the process of searching for his spirit space, plunging deep into the unknown, ready to face whatever lay ahead.