Who Let Him Cultivate？

Chapter 26: The Origin of the Meng Family

The Dao Seeking Sect commanded a vast empire of earthly delights, offering every conceivable mortal pleasure from fine dining to theatrical entertainment. Cultivation, after all, was not synonymous with entombing oneself in dead-end seclusion. A monotonous grind toward immortality was a fool’s errand; thus, the sect ensured its disciples had access to the necessary vices to unwind.

Take, for instance, the Sichuan hotpot mentioned previously, or the Hundred Fragrances Pavilion, where the trio currently found themselves.

Lu Yang had heard whispers that the Dao Seeking Sect wasn’t always like this. In the old days, cultivation was a brutal, ascetic pursuit. Disciples were forbidden from engaging in miscellaneous distractions lest they tarnish their Dao Heart.

But then the old Sect Leader and the previous generation of Elders retired. The current Sect Leader and his eight Elders seized power, and the Dao Seeking Sect underwent a radical transformation. The new regime actively encouraged a balance of labor and leisure. Cultivate when it is time to cultivate; relax when it is time to relax.

In the words of the current upper brass: If a mere indulgence could shatter your Dao Heart, then what kind of fragile immortality are you even seeking?

Lu Yang found this modern ethos deeply degenerate. He made a solemn vow: the day he ascended to the sect’s upper echelons, he would purge this laxity and restore proper, agonizing discipline.

The Hundred Fragrances Pavilion roared with the vitality of a mortal tavern. Disciples gathered in droves to boast of completed bounties or to wash away the blood and sweat of arduous cultivation, eagerly exchanging martial insights and survival tips.

If nothing else justified its existence, the culinary arts here eclipsed the sect’s cafeteria by realms.

“Waiter!” Meng Jingzhou called out. “Table number nine, booked in advance. Three sets of bowls and chopsticks. Serve the dishes exactly as I ordered.”

“Right away, young master. Just you wait!”

As they ascended to the second floor, the scent of roasted spirit meats and spiced marrow hung heavy in the air—a fragrant assault that bypassed the conscious mind and commanded the salivary glands to surrender.

Lu Yang locked his gaze onto the retreating back of their waiter, his eyes narrowing. He stared until the man vanished down the stairwell. A cold realization washed over him: he couldn’t pierce the server’s cultivation base. A mere waiter, cloaked in unfathomable profoundness.

Both Lu Yang and Tao Yaoye surveyed the bustling floor with open curiosity. Lu Yang took his meals at Heavenly Gate Peak, and Tao Yaoye preferred the quiet precision of cooking for herself. Neither had ever stepped foot in this establishment.

Meng Jingzhou, however, navigated the space with the ease of a seasoned hedonist. “Never been here before, right? Let me tell you, the delicacies in this place defy imagination. If you can dream it, they can cook it. Just look at the menu.”

Lu Yang accepted the gilded menu and flipped to the first page. He was immediately captivated.

There were no dishes listed on page one. Only a single, prominent warning stamped in bold ink: This establishment only serves finished dishes. We do not sell raw ingredients. Please understand.

The second page revealed the true battlefield. Every dish was listed with two prices: one in Contribution Points, the other in Spirit Stones.

Steamed Tribulation Liquid — The distilled essence of heavenly wrath left behind after a mighty cultivator undergoes Tribulation Transcendence. Greatly beneficial for comprehending the Dao of Lightning.

Braised Ice Abyss Giant Elephant — The apex predator of the frozen north. An adult Ice Abyss Giant Elephant can shatter glaciers with a single stomp and stand unyielding in the face of an avalanche.

Tomato and Egg Stir-fry — This establishment offers a choice of eggs, ranging from ordinary hens and Eight Treasures Chickens to the mythical Golden-Winged Roc.

Lu Yang couldn’t help but click his tongue against his teeth. The prices were astronomical. These meals were clearly not meant for lowly Foundation Establishment cultivators; even if they pooled their life savings, they couldn’t afford a single bite of the Giant Elephant.

However, his eyes caught a few items within his meager budget. Stir-fried Inedia Pills, for example.

Noticing Lu Yang’s deeply furrowed brow, Tao Yaoye assumed the exorbitant prices had intimidated him. She offered a gentle smile. “What’s wrong? Did you find a problem?”

“Look at this,” Lu Yang said, pointing at the parchment. “The fundamental concept of Inedia is to forsake mortal sustenance, drawing upon the Spiritual Qi of heaven and earth to nourish the body. Swallowing an Inedia Pill allows one to achieve this state of fasting.”

“Correct,” Tao Yaoye nodded, following his logic.

“So,” Lu Yang murmured, his tone heavy with philosophical weight, “if one consumes a stir-fried Inedia Pill… does it count as eating a meal, or does it count as fasting?”

Tao Yaoye and Meng Jingzhou froze.

At first, the question seemed utterly absurd. But as the silence stretched, the sheer metaphysical weight of the paradox settled over them. It was inexplicably profound.

Desperate for enlightenment, the trio flagged down the unfathomable waiter and presented the paradox.

The waiter stared at them, completely stumped. He had worked in the Pavilion for years, serving eccentric masters and deranged sword cultivators, but this was a first. Had the kitchen’s slight delay driven these disciples to the brink of philosophical madness?

“The prices here are steep,” Lu Yang said, abandoning the Inedia paradox as his practical nature took over. He eyed Meng Jingzhou with genuine concern. “Do you actually have enough Contribution Points to cover this?”

Meng Jingzhou had only completed three sect missions. There was no mathematical way he possessed the capital for a feast. Lu Yang fully expected this to be a classic Meng Jingzhou scheme: ostensibly treat his friends to a lavish dinner, only for the three of them to end up scrubbing pots in the kitchen to pay off the debt.

“Who uses Contribution Points?” Meng Jingzhou scoffed, his voice dripping with the casual arrogance of generational wealth. “We’re paying in Spirit Stones, obviously.”

Tao Yaoye shot Lu Yang a look of mild astonishment, baffled as to why he would ever worry about a member of the Meng family going broke. “Have you seriously never heard of the Meng family?”

Lu Yang blinked, genuinely puzzled. “Is Meng Jingzhou’s family supposed to be famous?”

The Central Continent was vast beyond mortal comprehension; a cultivator could spend ten lifetimes flying and never chart its borders. Naturally, there were millions of clans surnamed Meng. How was Lu Yang supposed to know which specific Meng family his friend belonged to?

In all the time they had known each other, Meng Jingzhou had never once boasted of his lineage. When he first arrived at the Dao Seeking Sect for the entrance trials, he hadn’t even brought a single accompanying elder. Lu Yang had naturally assumed the boy was the last scion of a destitute bloodline, burdened with the impossible task of reviving his fallen house while cursed with a Single Spirit Root—the tragic, peerless Path of the Eternal Bachelor.

“They are the most famous one,” Tao Yaoye corrected softly.

Lu Yang’s pupils contracted sharply. The realization hit him like a physical blow.

There were countless Meng families, yes. But when one spoke of the most famous Meng family, there was only one answer. The Imperial City Meng Family.

“Wait… that Imperial City Meng family?” Lu Yang gasped. “The ones who fought alongside the ancestor of the Xia Emperor to conquer the world and establish the Great Xia Dynasty?!”

Lu Yang was thoroughly shaken. The Imperial City Meng family possessed a background of mythic proportions.

100,000 years ago, the world drowned in chaos. As the ancient proverb goes, heroes are forged in the fires of troubled times. The ancestor of the Meng family and the ancestor of the Xia Emperor raised their banners in rebellion, carving a path of blood and glory across the realm. Their legend was so monumental that it remained the crown jewel of teahouse storytellers and theatrical troupes to this day, enduring the erosion of time.

100,000 years ago, the previous dynasty crumbled under the weight of internal rot and external invasions. It was the dawn of a dark age. Demonic barbarians and abyssal sea beasts surged from their territories, eager to feast upon the Central Continent—a land blessed with peerless spiritual veins and outstanding humanity.

The Meng Ancestor rose from the eastern ancestral lands. He waged a relentless campaign, his armies marching across tens of thousands of leagues. He slaughtered the demonic barbarians until the survivors fled howling back to the Demon Domain. He broke the sea beasts, driving them into the crushing depths of the Eastern Sea. Rebellious warlords, treacherous ministers, and ambitious heroes alike were forced to bow before his might.

For a thousand years, the Meng Ancestor led his forces, ultimately conquering half of the Central Continent. He stood as one of the two supreme overlords of the world.

The other overlord was the ancestor of the Xia Emperor, who had conquered the remaining half.

The Xia Emperor’s ancestor had mirrored Meng’s legendary feats—expelling barbarians, slaughtering demon beasts, and bringing order to the chaos. Their achievements were perfectly matched, two titans holding up the sky.

At the time, the world held its breath. Everyone assumed the two overlords would either divide the Central Continent down the middle or plunge the realm into an apocalyptic war for absolute supremacy. Military strategists across the land feverishly ran simulations, calculating troop movements, supply lines, and the exact cost in human lives required for one side to break the other.

But the world failed to anticipate the sheer magnitude of their character.

Both the Meng Ancestor and the Xia Emperor looked upon the continent. It had bled for a thousand years. The earth was scorched, and rivers ran thick with gore—a true purgatory. If they ordered their armies to clash, the chaos would reignite, and countless more innocents would be ground into dust.

They had drawn their swords to bring peace to the world, not to sit on a throne of corpses.

And so, in an act of unprecedented nobility, the Meng Ancestor and the Xia Emperor dismissed their armies. They shed their titles of warlords and, as pure cultivators, ascended into the vast starry void to settle the fate of the world in a one-on-one duel.

That battle shattered the heavens. The sun and moon lost their luster, and great stars plummeted from the cosmos. When the cosmic dust finally settled, the ancestor of the Xia Emperor proved to be just a fraction of a hair superior, claiming ultimate victory.

The Meng Ancestor accepted his defeat with absolute grace, willingly conceding the throne of the world.

On the day of his coronation, the Xia Emperor stood before the realm and swore a binding oath: As long as the Great Xia Dynasty exists for a single day, the Meng family shall never perish.

He kept his word. After the Great Xia was forged, the Meng family took up residence in the Imperial City, forever honored, forever untouchable, and never once facing the suppression typical of a newly founded empire.