Who Let Him Cultivate？

Chapter 10: Even the Air on Pill Cauldron Peak is Fragrant

Bidding farewell to Zhou Lulu, Lu Yang arrived at the base of Pill Cauldron Peak. Instantly, a rich, intoxicating aroma of medicinal herbs washed over him.

“As expected of Pill Cauldron Peak,” Lu Yang murmured, taking a deep, reverent breath. “Even the very air is steeped in spiritual fragrance. The legendary blessed lands and celestial islands of myth could be no better than this.”

He took another greedy lungful. His body felt weightless, buoyant, as if he were shedding his mortal coil and ascending to the heavens.

“Junior Brother! Cease your breathing!”

A frantic voice shattered the tranquility. Seeing Lu Yang take another deep breath, the owner of the voice grew utterly hysterical.

“Quickly, circulate the Turtle Breathing Technique! Wait, you possess no Cultivation—cover your nose! That fragrance is a lethal toxin I accidentally vented from a failed refinement!”

That was the last sentence Lu Yang heard before his consciousness slipped away.

“What kind of cursed sect is this…” Lu Yang managed to slur. “Even the air is trying to kill me…”

The world tilted on its axis, his vision went black, and he plummeted face-first into the dirt.

It was a harsh lesson: a pleasant aroma was by no means mutually exclusive with a violent death.

When Lu Yang finally came to, a massive face loomed in his vision, startling him awake with a violent jolt.

“Heh,” the man chuckled sheepishly. “Junior Brother Lu, you’re awake. The pain has subsided, I presume?”

The jade pendant at Lu Yang’s waist had clearly given away his identity.

Lu Yang blinked. His entire body ached with a profound, structural agony, as if he had been kneaded into a ball of dough and violently flattened with a rolling pin.

He took stock of his surroundings. He was lying on a solitary cot in an alchemy room. The air was stiflingly hot, thick with an overpowering medicinal scent. A colossal bronze alchemy furnace dominated the center of the chamber. Shelves lined the walls, groaning under the weight of bundled herbs and pristine white porcelain bottles that likely contained successful refinements.

Yet, the floor was a chaotic hazard of discarded pill blueprints and stacked iron cages filled with squeaking white mice. Finding a place to step was a trial in itself.

“I am Wu Ming,” the man introduced himself. “My deepest apologies, Junior Brother. I was pondering a profound question during my refinement and allowed my focus to slip. I failed to control the furnace’s internal flames and accidentally transmuted a healing pill into a deadly poison.”

He puffed out his chest. “But fear not! While I frequently synthesize lethal toxins by mistake, I have yet to actually murder anyone!”

*That statistic does absolutely nothing to reassure me,* Lu Yang thought deadpan.

He gingerly propped himself up against the corner of the wall to ease his aching muscles. His scalp itched. Reaching back, his fingers brushed against thick bandages. He stared at Wu Ming in heavy silence.

“If I merely inhaled a toxic gas,” Lu Yang asked slowly, “why is my skull wrapped in gauze?”

Wu Ming rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah. Well. My mind wandered again while I was carrying your unconscious body, and your head made an unfortunate acquaintance with the floorboards. But fret not! As long as you still draw breath, Pill Cauldron Peak can heal any wound!”

“The pills I currently possess are far too potent for a mortal constitution. However, while you were comatose, I specifically refined a batch perfectly suited for your mortal body.” Wu Ming presented a golden pill as if offering a divine artifact, urging Lu Yang to take a couple.

Three distinct, shimmering rings encircled its surface—pill veins. It was the hallmark of a near-perfect refinement.

Lu Yang stared at it, paralyzed by a profound sense of self-preservation.

He had only come to Pill Cauldron Peak to beg for a few Inedia Pills. He hadn’t even done anything yet, and he was already bedridden with a bandaged skull. If he actually ingested something from this man, the King of Hell himself would applaud his suicidal bravery.

“It’s not poisonous, I swear,” Wu Ming promised, raising three fingers.

Seeing Lu Yang’s unwavering skepticism, Wu Ming sighed and retrieved a white mouse from a nearby cage to demonstrate.

The creature seemed to sense its impending doom. It squeaked frantically as Wu Ming dangled it by the tail, casting mournful glances back at its caged wife and children in a heartbreaking farewell.

Wu Ming forced the golden pill down its throat. The mouse hit the floor, twitched once, and ceased to exist.

Inside the cage, the widowed mouse and her orphans wailed in absolute, agonizing despair, having just witnessed their own inevitable futures.

Lu Yang: “…”

Wu Ming: “…”

“An anomaly!” Wu Ming coughed, waving his hands frantically. “A mere miscalculation of mass! The creature was simply too small; a fraction of toxicity overwhelmed it. A human would surely fare better! I know exactly where the formula went wrong. Wait here, I shall refine a new batch immediately!”

Lu Yang desperately pivoted the conversation to halt the man’s murderous enthusiasm. “Senior Brother, you mentioned you were distracted by a profound question earlier. What exactly were you pondering?”

The distraction worked flawlessly. Wu Ming paused, his eyes gleaming with intellectual fervor.

“Ah! It is a matter of semantics and purpose,” Wu Ming proclaimed. “Consider the word ‘Pill’, which inherently implies ‘Medicine’. Medicine exists to cure the sick and save the dying. Yet, an Inedia Pill is consumed by the healthy to stave off hunger. Why, then, is it classified as a Pill?”

He paced the room, gesturing wildly. “If an Inedia Pill is a Pill, then Pills are not merely medicine, but also food. But if an Inedia Pill is *not* a Pill, then to what category of existence does it belong?”

Lu Yang stared at him. *You would have to extract your brain, toss it into that furnace, and roast it for three days and three nights to generate a question that monumentally stupid.*

“Speaking of Inedia Pills,” Wu Ming continued, oblivious to Lu Yang’s internal judgment, “they are the only items I possess that a mortal can safely consume. I have strawberry, apple, and watermelon flavors. Would you care for some? Completely non-toxic.” He produced a handful of brightly colored, candy-like spheres.

Imagining the King of Hell eagerly waving him over, Lu Yang politely declined the gift. Dozens of disciples on Pill Cauldron Peak practiced refining Inedia Pills. Literally anyone else would be a safer bet than Senior Brother Wu Ming.

“If I ever require alchemical assistance, I will be sure to seek you out, Senior Brother,” Lu Yang lied smoothly as he limped toward the door.

“Remember, no charge for you, Junior Brother!” Wu Ming called out warmly.

Lu Yang quickened his limping pace.

The following day, the Seventh Elder of Pill Cauldron Peak caught wind of Lu Yang’s tragic ordeal. Mortified, the Elder personally delivered a gourd of Inedia Pills and a genuine, non-lethal healing pill suited for mortals.

Lu Yang made a full recovery.

***

Over the next month, Lu Yang fell into a rigorous, fulfilling routine. He cycled endlessly between the Scripture Pavilion, Word Transmission Peak, and his own cave dwelling. He absorbed the vast, esoteric knowledge of Cultivation like a dying man drinking from a desert oasis, ravenous and unyielding.

A month later, the new disciples were officially assigned to their respective Masters.

Meng Jingzhou was taken in by the Third Elder. Man Gu went to the Fourth Elder. Li Haoran, possessing a fire spiritual root, was claimed by the Fifth Elder. Tao Yaoye, bearer of the Feathered Immortal Body, was accepted by the Sixth Elder.

The assignments left Lu Yang deeply bewildered. He had assumed Man Gu would join Meng Jingzhou under the Third Elder. The Third Elder was a legendary body cultivator, a man whose physical might was so terrifying that no one in the Cultivation world dared engage him in close combat. Given Man Gu’s ancient barbarian bloodline, it was a match made in heaven.

Instead, the towering barbarian had chosen the Fourth Elder—a refined Confucian scholar renowned for his erudite wisdom, not his martial prowess.

The Fifth Elder was a master of artifact forging, making Li Haoran’s fire spiritual root a perfect fit. Lu Yang had yet to meet the Sixth Elder, but rumors painted her as a woman of breathtaking, suffocating beauty who possessed an immortal physique similar to Tao Yaoye’s.

Yet, Man Gu’s bizarre apprenticeship was nothing compared to the spectacle of Lu Yang’s own assignment.

He was to be the direct disciple of the mysterious Sect Leader.

The revelation sent shockwaves through the disciple ranks. The Sect Leader had not taken a disciple in over a century, preferring a life of unfettered freedom. Whispers filled the courtyards; no one could fathom why the Sect Leader, who was currently in Secluded Cultivation, would suddenly break tradition for Lu Yang.

Under the burning, envious gazes of his peers, Lu Yang was escorted away by Senior Sister Yun Zhi, ascending toward Heavenly Gate Peak—the domain of the Sect Leader.