Dual Cultivation System: My Cultivation Was Crippled, So I Rely on Intimacy to Level Up

The relief in the boy’s tone didn’t seem feigned. It was the raw, unfiltered desperation of a social creature finally ending a long stint of isolation.

“Little brother, what should I call you?” A warm, practiced smile spread across Zhou Kai’s face, but his mind was already whirring with cold calculations. Where did this half-grown brat come from, appearing in this desolate shit-hole of a wilderness?

The youth immediately thumped his chest with a heavy fist. “My name is Fang Lizhe! Li as in ‘establish oneself,’ Zhe as in ‘philosophy’! May I ask the names of such an esteemed elder brother and sister?” His gaze was intense, radiating the reckless, “newborn-calf” energy of someone who hadn’t yet been beaten down by the cruelty of the world.

Zhou Kai offered a shallow, polite smile. “My surname is Zhou. This is my wife, she’s of the Chen family.” He gave nothing more—names had power, and in this world, anonymity was a shield.

Chen Ziyi remained a silent shadow by his side, offering a subtle nod. She moved as he moved, spoke only when he signaled. To the boy, she looked like a dutiful, quiet wife; to Zhou Kai, she was a well-trained asset.

Fang Lizhe didn’t seem to mind the brevity. He scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Brother Zhou, Sister Chen… you have no idea. I’ve been so pent up. Ever since I crossed the borders of the Great Zhou Kingdom, the further north I trek, the emptier the world gets. For two months, I haven’t seen so much as a ghostly shadow! I started thinking I was the last person left on earth!”

So we’re at the extreme northern border of the Great Zhou. Broken Wood Bay is just beyond the horizon, Zhou Kai noted. Crouching Tiger Mountain is a world away to the east. I found my fate in the heart of the kingdom, but this brat has lucked his way to the very edge of the cultivation world.

The youth began gesticulating wildly, his eyes shining. “You won’t believe it! About a month ago, I saw an immortal with my own eyes! A massive, pitch-black sedan chair—whoosh!—cutting right through the clouds! No horses, no ropes, just flying on its own power toward the north! The magic of the immortals… it’s beyond anything I imagined!”

A black flying sedan?

Zhou Kai’s gut tightened. In a place this drained of Spirit Qi, he hadn’t expected high-level activity. If the boy wasn’t exaggerating, that “sedan” wasn’t a mere tool; it was a high-grade Magical Treasure. To power such a thing required the core of a Foundation Establishment cultivator, or more likely, a Golden Core old monster.

This trip just became a walk through a minefield, he thought, his body tensing under his robes.

He scrutinized the youth again. Was he truly this naive, or was this a brilliant act? A lone Mortal surviving this wilderness for two months was a feat. He had seen too many “sheep” hide daggers behind their smiles.

Then again, perhaps his very lack of power was his armor. Bandit Cultivators were vultures; they wouldn’t waste their Qi on a penniless Mortal martial artist. Ten years ago, the old Zhou Kai wouldn’t have bothered to rob a brat like this either.

“Little Brother Fang,” Zhou Kai said, his voice honeyed with “concerned” edge. “You’re young to be so far from home. Aren’t your elders worried? This road is paved with wolves, bandits, and worse. Without some real skill, you’re just a walking meal.”

Fang Lizhe puffed out his chest. “Don’t underestimate me! I’m fifteen! Back home, men my age are already fathers. I can stand on my own!” He patted the iron long sword at his waist. “My father hired the best instructors. Three or four ruffians couldn’t even touch my shadow!”

“Besides,” he patted the reddish-brown horse, “this is ‘Wind Chaser.’ He can clear a thousand li in a day! No wild beast can keep up with us.”

Chen Ziyi swept her gaze over the boy’s lean frame and the ordinary iron blade. A boaster, she thought, but he probably knows enough crude martial arts to keep himself alive against common thugs.

“So, you ran away from home,” Zhou Kai mused. He raised an eyebrow. “What brings you to the edge of the world? Seeking immortality, perhaps?”

The youth’s eyes lit up like stars. Seeing Zhou Kai’s interest, he lost what little caution he had left.

“Exactly, Brother Zhou! First, I want to find a real sect and learn how to fly! My great-grandfather found an immortal’s map when he was young. It says to go north—always north—to find the immortal mountains!”

“And the second goal?”

“The second,” Fang Lizhe said, looking a bit embarrassed, “is to sell these.” He gestured to his pack. “My great-grandfather left behind several cultivation manuals. I want to trade them for resources. I’ve heard immortals need rare treasures to grow, and my travel funds won’t cover the fees.”

Sell manuals? Something shifted in Zhou Kai’s chest—the predatory instinct of a street-smart scavenger. He kept his breathing steady. “Oh? I happen to be quite interested in such curiosities. Might I take a look? If they’re truly special, I might offer you a price that beats any market rate.”

Fang Lizhe perked up instantly, delighted to meet a “connoisseur.” “These are peerless divine arts! Ordinary people can’t even touch them! Genuine immortal techniques!”

He rummaged through his bundle, pulling out a bundle wrapped tightly in oilcloth. As it fell away, several thread-bound booklets with yellowed, musty pages appeared.

Five books in total.

The corner of Zhou Kai’s mouth twitched. Chen Ziyi had to turn her head to hide a chuckle.

“Brother Zhou, look! This is the ‘Qi Induction Art’! It made my breathing so smooth. And this ‘Body Forging Art’—I can lift a millstone now! And these two—the ‘Rain Casting Spell’ and the ‘Glimmer Spell’… I haven’t made it rain yet, but that’s just because I haven’t found my fate!”

Zhou Kai had expected trash, but as his gaze fell upon the last book, his pupils contracted slightly.

“Cicada Raiment Art”!

It wasn’t a legendary scripture, but it was leagues above the “Breath Concealment” junk used by most Loose Cultivators. It allowed a practitioner to suppress their aura, obscure their cultivation realm, and—if mastered—render their physical form nearly invisible. Most importantly, unlike lower arts, it didn’t fail the moment you started moving.

“This ‘Cicada’ art… it’s somewhat interesting,” Zhou Kai said, tossing it back casually as if it were a mere curiosity.

Fang Lizhe, desperate for a sale, noticed the lingering glance. “Brother Zhou has a sharp eye! This one was kept in a secret sandalwood box! It’s the most precious of all! For this one… I’ll need something truly good in exchange!”

Zhou Kai chuckled inwardly. This kid is a walking loot drop. He pulled out a small porcelain vial containing a dozen “Mind Awakening Pills.” They were unranked dregs he’d brewed during his downtime—useless for him, but a miracle for a Mortal martial artist.

“These are Mind Awakening Pills. They strengthen the marrow, nourish vitality, and sharpen the senses. They’ll do more for your martial arts than a hundred instructors. If you trust me, I’ll trade the vial for the Cicada book.”

Fang Lizhe popped the cork. The medicinal fragrance hit him like a physical wave, making his pores hang open and his spirit soar. He didn’t know the grade, but he knew it was a treasure.

“Brother Zhou, you’re a man of your word! Deal!”

Zhou Kai tucked the Cicada Raiment Art into his collar, his smirk widening. “So, where is this ‘map’ taking you, Little Brother?”

“Honestly? The end of the path ahead. About five or six days on horseback. I figure once I reach the end, someone there will know where the sects are.”

“We’re heading the same way,” Zhou Kai said.

“Perfect! I’ll walk with you! Safety in numbers, right?”

Zhou Kai pondered. It was a good chance to master the new art before they reached the bay. Besides, the kid was so stupidly frank that he’d probably get sold into slavery if left alone.

“Very well. The journey will be livelier with you along.”