Who Let Him Cultivate？

Chapter 45: Don’t Underestimate Fried Dough Sticks as Weapons

Lu Yang parried with his sword in one hand, his free hand snapping out to grab Qi Wu by the scruff of the neck. With a grunt of exertion, he hurled the merchant backward. “There’s a door behind you! Run!”

Qi Wu sailed through the air, covering a dozen feet in the blink of an eye. Just as his bones were about to shatter against the floorboards, an invisible cushion of force bloomed beneath him, setting him down with feather-light precision.

“Thank you, Immortal!”

Qi Wu didn’t hesitate. He grabbed A Yue and the others, sprinting into the storm. They didn’t understand the cultivation realms of Lu Yang or the tiger demon, but they knew one universal truth: when cultivators clashed, mortals died. A stray shockwave would leave them either paralyzed in a bed or buried in the mud.

The tiger demon’s fur bristled like steel wire. The character for “King” etched into the fur on its forehead pulsed with a faint, bloody light. Roaring, it lunged at Lu Yang, its killing intent suffocating.

“I shall assist you!”

The clay shells of the remaining two mountain god statues shattered. From the dust emerged two figures: one holding a scripture, radiating the quiet refinement of a scholar, and the other glowing with the blinding brilliance of an enlightened monk who had forged an immeasurable golden body.

Man Gu weighed the scripture in his hand. He frowned. Too light. With a polite sigh, he tucked the scripture away and reached into his robes, withdrawing two massive, leather-bound copies of the Great Xia Dictionary.

“Ah. The heft is much better,” he murmured.

Since childhood, Man Gu had been taught that the Man tribe were warriors of pragmatism. A weapon was not defined by its shape; anything could be an instrument of death. You simply used what was at hand.

Right now, heavy literature was at hand.

“Knowledge,” Man Gu declared with absolute, terrifying sincerity, “is power.”

Gripping the dictionaries like cinderblocks, he slammed them directly into the tiger demon’s forehead. The beast blinked, momentarily stunned by the sheer absurdity of the weapon.

Meng Jingzhou required no weapon. His body was the pinnacle of violence. Transforming into a blinding golden juggernaut, he barreled toward the tiger demon. The Changui lurking behind its master let out a piercing shriek as Meng Jingzhou approached, its ethereal flesh sizzling and smoking like meat on a hot iron.

The Pure Yang Spiritual Root was absolute poison to the undead.

Terrified out of its fractured mind, the Changui abandoned its master’s orders, bolting from the temple and vanishing into the torrential rain.

The tiger demon had never been so thoroughly disrespected.

It preferred to avoid cultivators, but that didn’t mean it feared them. It could easily shred these arrogant brats and vanish into the wilderness. A shame to lose a geomantic treasure like Song Mountain, it thought.

Abandoning all restraint, the beast whipped its tail. The appendage tore through the air with a deafening shriek, sweeping toward Lu Yang. If the strike landed, bones would shatter.

Lu Yang didn’t hesitate. He retracted his sword and threw himself backward. The tail slammed into the stone floor, sending a tremor through the entire temple.

The trio’s expressions tightened. “It’s already condensed a Golden Core phantom!”

To reach the Golden Core stage, a cultivator first had to condense a phantom core. Only when that illusion solidified did they truly step into the realm. The beast before them was clearly in the middle of this transition. Its power was suffocating.

“This lord is a mighty Half-Step Golden Core expert!” the tiger demon bellowed, its voice shaking the rafters. “How dare a pack of Foundation Establishment whelps scratch me!”

Lu Yang paused, lowering his sword slightly. He glanced at Meng Jingzhou. “Half-step Golden Core? I don’t recall Eldest Senior Sister ever mentioning that realm.”

Meng Jingzhou, playing the role of the worldly commoner, scoffed. “It just means they haven’t actually formed a core yet, but their egos are too fragile to accept being lumped in with Foundation Establishment. So, they desperately slap the words ‘Golden Core’ onto their title. Actual Golden Core cultivators don’t even look at them. It’s honestly a bit pathetic.”

Man Gu, ever the helpful scholar, nodded in agreement. “It is entirely normal that Brother Lu is unaware. The Senior Brothers and Senior Sisters in our Sect sneer at the very concept. Transitioning from a phantom to a solid core? Only the utterly mediocre bother with such a crutch. True geniuses form their cores directly.”

Lu Yang looked back at the towering, bloodthirsty beast. His eyes softened with genuine, heartfelt pity. “How tragic.”

The tiger demon saw red. Blood vessels bulged in its eyes. Its proud, centuries-in-the-making cultivation was being casually dissected and discarded as garbage by three teenagers.

But the absolute worst part? They weren’t taunting it. They were being completely sincere.

At least pretend to be intimidated!

Roaring, the tiger demon unleashed its Pressure, a crushing aura meant to force the trio to their knees.

The air grew heavy. The three youths didn’t even blink.

Lu Yang and Meng Jingzhou exchanged an amused look. “We’ve bathed in the killing intent of a Nascent Soul great demon with ancient dragon blood,” Lu Yang deadpanned. “Did you really think a stiff breeze would impress us?”

Man Gu didn’t even need to speak. The ancient blood of the Man tribe coursed through his veins, rendering him immune to spiritual suppression. His ancestors had conquered the primordial world through sheer, unadulterated savagery; they bowed to nothing.

Realizing intimidation was useless, the tiger demon dropped to all fours, abandoning its bipedal mockery of humanity. Its chin hovered inches from the floor, its golden eyes locked onto its prey.

Boom!

The stone beneath its hind legs shattered as it launched itself forward like a cannonball. Lu Yang brought the Qingfeng Sword up in a desperate horizontal block. Claws met steel with a shower of sparks.

Lu Yang spun backward, his boots skidding across the floor as he bled off the kinetic force.

Unlike the Painted Skin Ghost, whose entire threat relied on deception and parlor tricks, the tiger demon was a biological siege engine. Demonic beasts were infamous for their physical supremacy, and this one was nearly an entire major realm above them. The fact that Lu Yang blocked the strike without his arms snapping was a miracle.

Meng Jingzhou and Man Gu flanked the beast. Runes flared within the tiger’s blood. Clouds follow the dragon, wind follows the tiger. Tapping into its instinctual bloodline technique, the beast summoned a localized hurricane, launching itself into the air to swipe at both of them simultaneously.

Caught mid-air without leverage, Meng Jingzhou met the massive paw with a palm strike of his own. Beside him, Man Gu raised a dictionary to guard his chest. The tiger’s claws shredded through half the tome, sending a blizzard of paper fluttering into the air.

Lu Yang seized the opening. He lunged, his sword a streak of silver lightning. He thrust half a dozen times in the span of a breath, but the tiger’s hide was like tempered steel. The blade failed to pierce the thick fur.

The tiger demon opened its maw to laugh, ready to mock the boy’s pathetic strength—

Until a series of muffled pops echoed from within its own chest. Blood sprayed from its mouth. The points where Lu Yang’s sword had struck suddenly erupted with agonizing internal lacerations.

Hidden Force Sword Energy!

Lu Yang didn’t need to pierce the armor. He only needed to channel his sword qi directly into the beast’s body. This was the fatal flaw of demonic beasts compared to human body refiners: their exteriors were impenetrable, but their internal organs and blood vessels were as fragile as wet paper.

Panicking, the tiger demon scrambled backward, terrified of crossing blades with Lu Yang again.

But Lu Yang was relentless. He raised his sword with his right hand. The tiger flinched and dodged. In that split second, Lu Yang’s left hand blurred, producing a golden, deep-fried dough stick—a youtiao. With a vicious flick of his wrist, he brought the pastry down hard on the tiger demon’s skull.

The beast saw the pastry coming. It could have dodged. But its brain short-circuited. A fried dough stick? it thought, a hysterical bubble of amusement rising in its chest. The kid is so desperate he’s fighting with breakfast.

Crack.

The impact sounded like a sledgehammer hitting an anvil. The tiger demon’s vision swam. The world tilted sideways as a massive concussion rattled its brain.

What in the heavens is that dough stick made of?!

Taking advantage of the beast’s dazed state, Meng Jingzhou—still glowing like a solid gold mountain—rammed his shoulder directly into its ribs. For all its terrifying power, the tiger demon was fundamentally a coward. It had survived this long by running away from fair fights, meaning its actual combat experience was pitifully shallow.

It stumbled, leaving its guard wide open. Man Gu stepped in, aiming a brutal punch at the beast’s eyeball. The tiger jerked its head, taking the blow on the cheek instead. A chunk of fur and flesh tore away.

Instinctively, the beast lashed out with its tail. Man Gu didn’t resist; he kicked off the sweeping appendage, riding the momentum backward to land safely.

Lu Yang closed in again, unleashing a flurry of sword thrusts punctuated by devastating, skull-rattling thwacks from the youtiao. The tiger demon was forced into a frantic retreat.

In just a few exchanges, the three youths had completely seized the upper hand.

The tiger demon’s mind raced. These kids were young and their cultivation was low, but their foundations were monstrous. They had to be the scions of some terrifying, ancient Sect. Survival instincts screaming, it decided to flee.

But the trio’s eyes were cold. If they let this beast return to the mountains today, a hundred mortals would end up in its stomach tomorrow.

It died here.

“Do not push me too far!” the tiger demon roared, its voice cracking with desperate fury.

Seeing the beast bare its fangs for a final, suicidal clash, the three youths tightened their grips on their weapons, bracing for the ultimate strike.

The tiger demon’s eyes bulged. It threw its head back, staring out into the rain-swept night, and unleashed its ultimate trump card.

“WIFE! THEY’RE TRYING TO KILL ME!”