Who Let Him Cultivate？

Chapter 41: Departure

Lu Yang found himself standing before the baked flatbread stall, staring in weary disbelief.

The vendor, a senior sister of the Hundred Forges Peak, was currently prepping a fresh batch. Proofing, resting, kneading, and slamming the dough into shape—her movements were a blur of terrifying proficiency, honed by gods knew how many years of relentless practice.

She pinched off a wad of dough. Hands, wrists, arms, torso—her entire body coiled like a compressed spring before unleashing a kinetic wave into the dough, forcing it into a perfect disc. Her movements subtly aligned with the profound truths of martial cultivation. This wasn’t just baking; it was a high-level body coordination drill disguised as food prep.

Then came the final step. The senior sister tossed the raw dough onto a blackened forging anvil, hoisted a massive iron hammer, and brought it down with a deafening *CLANG*.

Sparks showered the stone floor, burning tiny craters into the earth. She then plunged the flattened dough into a quenching trough. The cold water instantly boiled, bubbling furiously. A moment later, a perfectly baked flatbread was produced.

Lu Yang felt his horizons forcibly broadened. Hundred Forges Peak truly operated on a different wavelength, seamlessly blending gourmet cuisine with heavy-duty artifact forging.

“One flatbread, please,” he said, his voice perfectly flat.

The cafeteria’s wares were undeniably cheap. Lu Yang had spotted dozens of eye-opening, highly lethal snacks he would have loved to purchase, but his Contribution Points were strictly limited.

…

Early the next morning, Lu Yang arrived at the mountain gate of the Dao Seeking Sect to meet his team.

“Just waiting on you!” Meng Jingzhou waved from up ahead. Parked right behind him was a horse carriage—the exact same rickety wooden carriage that had hauled them to the Dao Seeking Sect months ago. Even the tired old horse was the same.

The only difference was their third party member. Instead of Eldest Senior Sister Yun Zhi, a towering figure stood by the wheels.

Man Gu was diligently reading a book, utilizing every spare second to study. His broad Confucian robe did its absolute best to conceal his bulging, terrifying musculature, giving him the appearance of a heavily armored scholar who could politely debate philosophy before crushing a man’s skull with his bare hands.

“We aren’t taking a Flying Boat?” Lu Yang asked, having fully prepared for aerial travel. While his Shrinking Earth to an Inch technique was convenient, it couldn’t outpace a dedicated transport vessel.

Actually, he had temporarily abandoned mastering Shrinking Earth to an Inch, opting instead to specialize in Shrinking Earth and To an Inch as two separate, highly questionable techniques.

Meng Jingzhou slapped the side of the carriage with a smug grin. “This carriage of mine is a rare artifact. It houses a spatial Formation. When we sit inside, it feels like we’re moving at a leisurely trot, but to anyone on the outside, we’re tearing across the landscape as fast as a Flying Boat.”

Lu Yang blinked, the pieces falling into place. The Meng family estate was located far away in the Imperial City. For Meng Jingzhou to have traveled all the way to the Dao Seeking Sect in this thing, it couldn’t have been at a normal horse’s pace. That would have taken a year.

The carriage had clearly been operating at warp speed the entire journey, only deactivating its Formation and slowing to a crawl as it approached the Dao Seeking Sect out of respect. Lu Yang had only ever seen it in its decelerated state.

The three of them climbed aboard. The interior was just as impossibly spacious as Lu Yang remembered. Only now did he truly grasp the absurd value of the vehicle.

“Speaking of which,” Lu Yang said, taking a seat, “where exactly are we going? What’s the mission?”

“Huh? Did I forget to mention it?” Meng Jingzhou chuckled. “We’re heading to a place called Qinghuai County. I’ll let Brother Man Gu handle the briefing, since he’s the one who found the bounty.”

Man Gu carefully placed a bookmark in the seam of his text, closed it with a soft thud, and spoke in his slow, methodical baritone.

“I heard of this matter from a passenger aboard a Flying Boat during my last excursion. He was the leader of a merchant caravan, a man privy to the shadows of the mortal world. He shared a rumor circulating among the trade routes—one with a high degree of credibility.”

Man Gu leaned forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over the cabin. “Between Qinghuai County and Yanjiang County lies a vast, treacherous mountain range. If merchants wish to cross it, they must hire local hunters to guide them. Recently, however, a terrifying presence has claimed those woods, forcing the hunters to abandon the very forests they rely on for survival…”

…

Night swallowed the mountains.

Gnarled tree branches clawed at the sky, blotting out the moon. Thunder detonated overhead, shaking the earth as a torrential downpour turned the mountain path into a slick, muddy nightmare.

A line of seven men trudged through the storm. Thick hemp ropes were tied around their waists, tethering them together to prevent anyone from slipping off the treacherous edge and vanishing into the abyss below.

The roar of the rain was absolute. If a man fell and screamed, the storm would drown him out before the sound reached the others.

Clad in heavy straw raincoats and leaning heavily on wooden walking sticks, the merchants carried massive woven baskets on their backs. Every step was a calculated risk. The icy, bone-chilling rain plastered their hair to their grimy faces. Blinded by the dense curtain of water, they had no choice but to blindly follow the silhouette of the old hunter leading the pack.

“Watch your step! The mud is slick!” the old hunter roared over the thunder. “Don’t stop, no matter how tired you are! Push through! We’re almost there! If you stop now, the cold will take your strength and you’ll never get back up!”

“I… I really can’t…” a voice whimpered from the back. “Help! I’m falling!”

A foot slipped. Mud gave way.

With a sickening slide, a merchant named Ah Yue plummeted over the edge of the cliff.

The sudden, violent jerk on the rope nearly dragged the man in front of him down as well. The caravan halted instantly, panic erupting as they scrambled for purchase in the mud.

“Ah Yue! Grip the rope! We’ll pull you up!”

“I… I have no strength left!” Ah Yue cried out, dangling over the black void, the coarse rope biting agonizingly into his waist. He was starved, freezing, and entirely spent. Climbing up under his own power was impossible.

The old hunter, a veteran of the peaks, didn’t panic. He barked orders while throwing his own weight onto the line.

“You three, anchor yourselves against that ancient pine! Do not let him drag the rest of us down!” he bellowed. “The rest of you, wrap the slack around your wrists! On three, we heave! One, two, three, PULL!”

“One, two, three, PULL!”

Muscles tore and boots slid through the muck, but inch by agonizing inch, they dragged Ah Yue back over the precipice. He collapsed onto the muddy path, gasping for air. The rest of the men fell to their knees alongside him, too exhausted to stand.

The old hunter, however, didn’t relax. He knelt beside the shivering man, his eyes darting into the dark woods. “Ah Yue. How did you slip? Did you feel someone… push you?”

Ah Yue stared back blankly, shaking his head. He didn’t understand the question. He had just lost his footing. Who would be out here in this storm trying to kill him?

“Old Sun, what are you getting at?” asked Qi Wu, the leader of the caravan. He was a sharp man, and the hunter’s grim tone set his teeth on edge.

The old hunter shook his head and pointed a weathered finger through the rain toward a dilapidated silhouette in the distance. “Keep moving. We’ll speak of it when we reach the Mountain God Temple.”

The howling wind offered no room for debate. Qi Wu nodded, shouted a few hoarse words of encouragement, and forced his men back to their feet.

When they finally breached the threshold of the Mountain God Temple, all pretense of dignity vanished. They tore off their soaked raincoats and collapsed onto the dry stone floor, chests heaving. Once they caught their breath, panic set in again as they frantically checked their cargo. If the goods were ruined, this hellish trek would have been for nothing.

“Thank the heavens,” one merchant sighed, slumping against a pillar. “The waterproof tarps held. Brother Qi truly has foresight.”

The temple itself was a ruin. It was spacious, but that was its only virtue. The floor was caked in dried mud and animal dung. The wooden nameplates of the deities had long since rotted away, and whatever offerings had once been left were eaten by wild beasts decades ago. Both main doors had been torn from their hinges, and the shattered windows allowed the biting wind to whistle through the hall.

But to the freezing merchants, it was a palace.

Qi Wu pulled a few pristine items from his basket and approached the altar. It was only right to offer tribute to the masters of the house for sheltering them from the storm.

Three weathered Mountain God statues sat in the center of the dais, coated in a thick layer of dust. They were clearly made of clay, and the craftsmanship wasn’t particularly divine, but there was a distinct hierarchy to them.

The central deity gripped a gentleman’s sword, radiating an aura of weary, deadpan righteousness. To his left sat the civil deity, a towering figure clad in a Confucian robe, holding a book. To his right sat the martial deity, practically vibrating with an arrogant, pure yang energy.

“Mountain Gods, please bless us with a safe journey,” Qi Wu murmured, bowing deeply as he placed the offerings.

As he looked up, Qi Wu couldn’t help but marvel. He always felt these particular Mountain Gods possessed a profound spirituality.

It was almost as if they were alive.