Who Let Him Cultivate？

Chapter 17: Have You Ever Heard of a Land Sword Immortal?

“Senior Brother Lu, if I recall correctly, you possess a Sword Spirit Root?” Tao Yaoye’s gaze drifted to the ancient, unadorned blade resting at Lu Yang’s hip, then to the thick calluses webbing the crook of his thumb and forefinger. To forge such calluses in a mere year spoke volumes of his grueling dedication to the blade.

Lu Yang gave a solemn nod. “I suppose I barely qualify as a sword cultivator,” he replied with practiced humility.

The path of Cultivation branched into myriad disciplines: alchemists, talisman crafters, formation masters, body refiners, and sword cultivators. Among them, the sword cultivators reigned supreme in sheer, unadulterated destructive power. In a battle of equals, no one in their right mind wanted to face a sword cultivator.

Their legend was built upon a single, terrifying axiom: One sword breaks ten thousand techniques. It mattered not how profound or heaven-defying an opponent’s Dao might be; a true sword cultivator would simply sever it with a single strike.

Conversely, the pinnacle of Dao technique cultivators operated on the inverse principle: Ten thousand techniques break a single sword.

Beyond the brute force of breaking techniques, the repertoire of a sword cultivator was the stuff of legends—techniques like Sword Opens the Heavenly Gate or the iconic Flying Sword.

Robes as white as driven snow, riding a flying sword to surf the winds and cleave the clouds—was there any image more dashing in the mortal realm?

What did mortals truly seek when they stepped onto the path of Cultivation? First, absolute power. Second, absolute style. Sword cultivators flawlessly embodied both. Countless souls yearned for such a path, only to be turned away by a tragic lack of innate talent.

“So, Senior Brother Lu,” Tao Yaoye asked, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity, “what will you do once you master the flying sword?”

In all her life, Tao Yaoye had never heard of an acrophobic sword cultivator.

Other cultivators sought to soar the heavens and tread the earth, wild and unfettered. This Senior Brother Lu, it seemed, would only tread the earth and burrow into the earth, thoroughly grounded.

Lu Yang’s expression hardened into a mask of solemn gravity. “The title of Sword Immortal is not exclusively tethered to the sky. Junior Sister Tao Yaoye, tell me… have you ever heard of a Land Sword Immortal?”

Tao Yaoye blinked, momentarily taken aback. Lu Yang’s tone was so utterly resolute, and the title Land Sword Immortal carried such an ancient, resonant weight, that she found herself nodding unconsciously.

“Who decreed that all immortals must remain aloof and suspended in the clouds?” Lu Yang’s voice took on a philosophical cadence. “The very word ‘Immortal’ is rooted in the concept of ‘Human.’ The immortal dwells in the heavens, while the human walks the earth. A true immortal roams freely between both realms—capable of plucking the stars and moon from the firmament above, yet equally able to plunge into the nine abysses below, entirely unconstrained.”

“The mantle of the ‘Land Sword Immortal’ proves that our kind are not bound to the skies. We walk the mortal earth. With a single flick of the wrist, our blades can cross a thousand miles to sever the heads of demons and monsters!”

“That is my Dao. My ultimate goal is to become a peerless Land Sword Immortal!”

Caught up in the epic atmosphere, Tao Yaoye was half a breath away from nodding in profound respect. Fortunately, years of disciplined composure kicked in, and her rational mind slammed on the brakes. “Wait. Hold on. I’ve heard of ‘Land Immortals,’ yes. But where exactly did this term ‘Land Sword Immortal’ come from?”

Lu Yang held her gaze in absolute silence for three long seconds. His eyes were deep, as though churning with the weight of ancient, unspeakable secrets. Finally, he parted his lips and spoke.

“I made it up.”

“…”

His delivery was so earnest, so utterly devoid of shame, that Tao Yaoye was rendered entirely speechless.

She wisely chose to abandon the topic. In a mere three days of travel, the majestic image she had constructed of Senior Brother Lu had shattered into unrecognizable fragments.

During the first trial, she had watched with her own eyes as the testing monolith revealed his Sword Spirit Root. Back then, Lu Yang had seemed like a righteous, unyielding blade forged to cleave the heavens—taciturn, stoic, and utterly indestructible.

After the second trial, when she heard the bizarre, unorthodox method he used to pass, she had simply assumed that true sword cultivators possessed a terrifyingly flexible intellect, guaranteeing him boundless future achievements.

During the third trial on the Mountain of Mind Questioning, when she was so physically and spiritually drained she could barely keep her eyes open, she had believed the fiftieth step was an impossible myth. Then, she saw Lu Yang ascend to that very step and conquer the trial. His triumph had ignited a fire in her chest, granting her the sheer willpower to drag herself up the mountain and pass.

Now, one year later, she was stuck on a boat with a Senior Brother Lu who was crippled by a fear of heights and possessed a mouth that never stopped running.

She finally understood the profound truth: Distance creates beauty.

“Judging by the time, we should be preparing to disembark,” Lu Yang announced, unrolling a massive parchment map across the deck.

The map was a masterpiece of cartography, detailing the Dao Seeking Sect, the Imperial City of the Great Xia Dynasty, legendary mountain ranges, roaring rivers, vital metropolis hubs, and hidden blessed lands. Yet, incredibly, this vast expanse only depicted one-eighth of the Central Continent.

A tiny crimson dot glowed on the parchment, creeping forward at such a glacial pace that, at a passing glance, it appeared entirely stationary. This dot represented their current location.

This was no mundane piece of paper; it was a specialized Dharma Treasure, an absolute necessity for long-distance travel.

Despite the map’s exquisite detail, Taiping Township was far too insignificant to warrant a label. Frankly, it was a miracle that the broader Quhe County had even made the cut.

The Flying Boat’s route stretched from the Dao Seeking Sect all the way to the Imperial City of the Great Xia Dynasty—a staggering journey spanning tens of thousands of miles. On such a colossal scale, Quhe County was nothing more than a speck of dust that barely managed to squeeze its name onto the parchment.

Naturally, a vessel of this magnitude did not make stops at backwater locales like Quhe County. If it paused at every minor settlement, its momentum would be crippled, rendering its efficiency barely better than a mortal horse-drawn carriage.

The Flying Boat only halted at major transportation nexuses: the Dao Seeking Sect, Qingyun City, Tongtian Valley, Fulong Mountain, and the Imperial City.

Before leaving, Lu Yang had asked his Eldest Senior Sister how one was supposed to disembark mid-journey. Her answer had been simple: You just jump off.

The mere memory of those words made Lu Yang’s eyelids twitch violently.

The Flying Boat functioned much like the airplanes of his previous life—prioritizing extreme speed and ruthless efficiency. The glaring difference, however, was that passengers in his past life were expected to obediently wait for the aircraft to land on a runway. In the Cultivation world, passengers simply hurled themselves into the abyss whenever their stop approached.

It was a system that heavily emphasized “freedom and openness.”

This would be Lu Yang’s first time jumping ship, and he was absolutely thrilled.

Thrilled to the point that his calves were vibrating like plucked bowstrings.

They were currently cruising at an altitude of 30,000 feet.

“Senior Brother Lu, do you know the proper procedure for disembarking?” Tao Yaoye asked.

“Naturally.” Lu Yang puffed out his chest, radiating an aura of seasoned confidence.

At an altitude of 30,000 feet, gravity was an unforgiving god. If one simply plummeted straight down without employing specialized techniques to arrest their momentum, even a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator would be reduced to a fine, bloody mist upon impact.

Lu Yang had explicitly asked his Eldest Senior Sister for the exact method to survive the drop. She had refused to answer. Instead, she had instructed him not to consult any manuals or ask for outside help, insisting that he “figure it out himself” to foster the “virtue of independent problem-solving.”

Rising to the challenge, Lu Yang had successfully engineered a foolproof method and made the necessary preparations.

They were not the only ones preparing to disembark. Seven or eight other strangers had gathered on the deck.

Lu Yang, Tao Yaoye, and the strangers stepped up to the precipice of the Flying Boat, lining up in a neat row against the howling winds.

In perfect unison, the seven or eight strangers produced standard-issue paper umbrellas.

Tao Yaoye gracefully produced a meticulously refined, crimson paper umbrella.

Lu Yang produced a massive, canvas parachute.

Huh?

Lu Yang suddenly felt a distinct lack of camaraderie. Why did everyone else’s equipment look so drastically different from his?

Before he could voice his confusion, an impatient middle-aged man in black robes gripped his paper umbrella and vaulted over the edge of the Flying Boat.

The man plummeted like a fired cannonball, his terminal velocity skyrocketing in the blink of an eye.

Unhurried, the man channeled his Spiritual Qi into the paper umbrella. The ethereal energy manifested as luminous, silken threads, slithering up the wooden handle like a nimble green serpent to coil tightly around the umbrella’s ribs.

The paper umbrella seemed to awaken from a deep hibernation. It snapped open, stretching its canopy wide against the rushing air. The man’s terrifying descent immediately decelerated into a gentle, swaying glide, carrying him safely toward the earth below.

Upon landing, the man released his grip. The umbrella snapped shut, transforming into a brilliant streak of light that pierced back through the sea of clouds, returning straight to the Flying Boat’s deck.

The paper umbrella wasn’t a personal artifact; it was a complimentary rental provided by the Flying Boat for its passengers.

The remaining strangers, along with Tao Yaoye, slowly turned their heads to stare at Lu Yang. Even Tao Yaoye’s usually composed eyes were swimming with utter bewilderment.

They were all holding elegant, magical umbrellas to gracefully descend from the heavens.

What in the world was he doing strapping a giant, lumpy sack to his back?

On the surface, Lu Yang remained a picture of unruffled tranquility. He met their baffled stares with a radiant, confident smile, acting entirely as though they were the ones who had brought the wrong equipment.

Internally, however, his mind was a shrieking void of panic. A thousand furious complaints clawed at his throat, but he didn’t even know where to begin.

In the end, the chaotic maelstrom of his thoughts condensed into a single, agonizing wail:

Eldest Senior Sister, you set me up!