What do you mean I'm a cultivator?-Chapter 14

Jiang Cheng examined the crude wooden cube in his palm, running his thumb over the uneven cut where his Qi had surged too strongly through the knife. A lesson in control, albeit an unintended one.

With a slight nod of satisfaction, he tucked the cube into an outer pocket of his satchel.

"Not exactly fine art." he murmured to himself.

After finishing his satiation pill, which settled in his stomach with the familiar bland efficiency of sect provisions, Jiang continued east.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the plains as he approached another small cluster of trees. This one was different from the morning's impromptu cutting. They were younger trees with more slender trunks and flexible branches swaying in the gentle breeze.

Drawing his sword once more, he channeled his Qi and with a precise stroke, he severed a branch slightly thinner than the previous one but with a straighter grain.

"Let's try something different this time." he said to no one in particular, sheathing the sword after wiping it clean on a tuft of grass.

As he resumed his eastward trek, the plains gradually giving way to more varied terrain with gentle rolling hills in the distance, Jiang retrieved his knife once more. This time, he had a specific shape in mind. A triangle, the simplest geometric form after a cube, but requiring more precise angles and consistent cuts.

His fingers worked methodically as he walked, first stripping the bark as before, then marking rough guidelines with the knife's tip before beginning to shape the wood. The afternoon passed in this rhythm of walking and carving, punctuated by occasional pauses to survey his surroundings or check his direction against the sun's position.

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With each zhang walked, he refined his technique, both in the carving and in the controlled application of Qi to the knife. Too little, and the blade struggled against the hardwood, in danger of chipping, as the blade was quite dull, unsharpened. Too much, and he risked another deep gash like the one that had marred his cube.

Finding the balance required continuous adjustment, a meditation in motion that complemented his steady pace.

As the sun began its descent toward the western horizon, casting the plains in golden light, Jiang started looking for a suitable place to make camp. The ideal spot presented itself near a small stream that cut across his path.

A slight depression sheltered by a rocky outcropping that would block the wind and provide a natural reflector for a fire's heat. Not like he'd need the fire, as he could technically keep from freezing thanks to his Qi, but that was a unneeded expenditure of it.

In the fading light, he knelt by the stream and used his water token to purify enough to fill his waterskin. The token's character glowed briefly as it activated, confirming that the water was now safe to drink. Then again, this was river water. But better safe than sound.

After quenching his thirst, Jiang set about making a simple camp.

From his satchel, he produced the matches, grateful for the sect's foresight in providing them. Gathering dry grass and small twigs from around the outcropping, he arranged a fire pit ringed with stones collected from the streambed. And soon enough, he built a small but efficient fire, the flames casting dancing shadows against the rock face behind him.

As the fire established itself, Jiang settled cross-legged beside it and withdrew the partially completed triangle from his pocket. In the flickering firelight, he continued his work, the knife moving more deliberately now that he wasn't dividing his attention between carving and walking.

As he did, he wondered if he'd even need the small jade. Would he even pass by a village? perhaps for this mission, it would prove usefull only to return the items borrowed. Perhaps the distance to it was too small to encounter a village. More food for thought.

The triangle took shape gradually, its edges imperfect and its angles slightly askew. One face remained stubbornly thicker than the others, resisting his attempts to even it out without compromising the overall shape. By the time true darkness had fallen, he held a recognizable but clearly hand-crafted wooden triangle, its surfaces smooth from handling but lacking the precision of proper craftsmanship.

He turned it over in his hands over and over, examining the less than ideal triangle, before placing it beside the cube in his satchel. Despite its flaws, the triangle represented a few hours of focused practice in Qi control. A skill that was definitely beneficial to his cultivation.

With his camp established and night fully descended, Jiang added a few larger pieces of wood to the fire to ensure it would last through the early hours of darkness. The plains had grown quiet around him, the daytime sounds of birds and rustling grasses giving way to the occasional distant call of nocturnal creatures and the gentle gurgle of the stream.

He positioned his satchel as a makeshift pillow and laid his sword within easy reach beside his sleeping area. There was no bedroll. The sect hadn't provided one, but the ground was dry, and the night was mild enough that discomfort would be minimal.

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Before settling down to rest, Jiang performed his usual meditation, circulating his Qi in his dantian, trying to compress and gather more of it.

As he fell into deep meditation, gathering Qi while his mind rested somewhat, just like back in the small shoddy cabin he called home.

Dawn broke over the plains, painting the landscape in soft hues of gold and pink. Jiang Cheng emerged from his meditation with a fluid movement, his Qi settling into a steady flow through his body, refreshing it, his morning routine.

The night's cultivation had been productive. Not remarkable at all, but consistent, leaving him refreshed despite sleeping on the hard ground.

After consuming another satiation pill and refilling his waterskin, he packed his meager camp and continued eastward. The sun climbed steadily at his back as he walked, occasionally consulting landmarks against the mental map he'd formed of his route.

By mid-morning, he came across a small gathering of birch trees, their white trunks standing in stark contrast to the surrounding greenery. On impulse, he drew his sword and cut a thicker piece of wood, roughly the size of his fist.

"A sphere." he decided, returning to the path.

As he walked, Jiang worked the knife around the wood, trying to whittle away the corners evenly. But unlike the previous shapes with their definite angles and planes, the sphere demanded a different approach—a continuous curve with no distinct edges to guide his cuts.

His first attempts removed too much material from one side, creating a lopsided egg shape rather than a proper sphere.

Frowning, he tried to compensate by shaving the opposite side, only to find himself creating flat spots where there should be curves.

"Damn it." he muttered after nearly an hour of increasingly frustrated attempts. The piece of wood now resembled something between an irregular polygon and a malformed egg, with numerous uneven planes where smooth curves should be.

He channeled more Qi into the knife, hoping precision might improve with enhanced control, but it only enabled him to make his mistakes more efficiently. The fundamental problem wasn't the tool but the technique. And possibly his own impatience.

By midday, what had started as a meditative exercise had become an irritation. Jiang stopped beside a lone oak tree, staring at the misshapen lump of wood in his hand.

"This is ridiculous." He said aloud, tempted to toss the failed project into the tall grass. "I can condense Qi, climb to the sixth level of Qi Condensation, but I can't carve a simple sphere?"

He tucked the mangled attempt into his satchel anyway. A reminder, perhaps, that not all skills came naturally. Even to cultivators.

Resuming his walk with a slightly quicker pace, fueled by lingering frustration, he focused instead on the terrain around him.

The afternoon brought subtle changes to the landscape. The plains began to give way to more pronounced hills, and the vegetation grew denser. Small clusters of wildflowers dotted the grasslands, occasionally stirred by passing breezes.

In the distance, a line of darker green suggested the beginning of proper forest.

Likely the outer edge of the valley mentioned in his mission brief.

As the sun began its westward descent, Jiang estimated he'd covered nearly two-thirds of the distance to his destination.

If his calculations were correct, that distance should be around ten thousand zhang. Again. there came that feeling. some of his thoughts felt that counting with zhang felt weird, thinking of something called meters. But that had been all he knew as a farmer boy. Not even seven years of age, brought into the sect.

It was then Cheng realized he had already been here for seven whole years. And yet, only now did he realize so, too preoccupied from the constant daily work and cultivation. Setting those thoughts aside, Cheng focused on the present.

Another day's travel would probably bring him to the valley, where the real work would begin. locating and harvesting the required herbs.

He selected a campsite on a small rise that offered good visibility of the surrounding area, near a trickling spring that wound between the emerging hills.

The evening routine matched the previous night's fire building, water purification, a light meal consisting of another satiation pill.

He wondered if eating these was truly the best food. But then again, he decided to not think to much of it, remembering the chaos of the few days that the sect didn't supply the outer sect with satiation pills. He still remembered seeing Senior Wang eating more than seven bowls of the soup. Clearly cultivation had a play in how hungry one was.

As darkness fell, Jiang sat cross-legged by the fire, the malformed sphere attempt resting on a flat stone before him. Rather than continue the frustrating carving, he opted for pure meditation, closing his eyes and directing his attention inward, holding it in his hands.

His breathing slowed as he sank deeper into the cultivation state.

His Qi circulated in his dantian, in controlled cycles, along with the breathing technique he had found leftover in the first floor.

The day's irritations fell away as he focused solely on the energy within, compressing it, refining it, strengthening it.

Hours passed in this state, the fire burning down to embers beside him while the stars wheeled overhead. In the depth of his meditation, Jiang became dimly aware of nocturnal creatures moving in the darkness beyond his camp.

Small rustlings in the grass, the distant call of a night bird.

But none approached Close. It was Clear that he, just like the terror he felt sensing Elder Feng's presence, he too, had a presence of his own. And unlike Elder Feng, he didn't know of a way to mask it. More than likely, Interacting with animals was crossed off till further learning about this, and any interesting topics.

When the first pale light of dawn touched the eastern horizon, Jiang opened his eyes.

The night's cultivation had been particularly effective, perhaps spurred by the day's frustrations channeled into focused determination.

Of course, with the sparse motes of Qi around him, it wasn't much. Like a drop of water in a bucket. This was exactly why pills and Qi rich recourses were vital. Sure, he could still cultivate, but that meant two things. Either he finds a way to attract more of his surroundings. Or a Area Rich in Qi.

Rising to his feet, he stretched muscles stiff from the long period of stillness. The failed sphere went right beside the pocket with the other two carvings. At least, they would make a nice decoration in his shitty cabin. It was then he thought about bringing wood to fix it up. After all, he doubted he would be leaving it anytime soon.

With the rising sun casting long shadows across the increasingly hilly terrain, Jiang Cheng resumed his journey eastward. The valley lay ahead, likely visible by midday if his pace remained steady. His first real mission waited there. A task more important than imperfect woodcarvings or wounded pride.

Each step brought him closer to his destination, and to whatever challenges the valley might hold for him.