Cultivation Nerd-Chapter 258: The Last Bad Choice

“Fuck! Who is this guy?” one of them shouted.

“Careful!” another warned, already adjusting his stance.

The others didn’t waste breath; they were already gathering Qi, their movements tight and practiced, and six cultivators ready to strike as one. A coordinated squad. Sharp-eyed. Disciplined.

I didn’t move. Not yet.

I considered killing them all in a blink.

It would’ve been easy.

But I didn’t, not because I couldn’t, but because they weren’t a real threat.

Instead, I moved. Faster than they expected, but not toward them.

Just as they braced for hand-to-hand, I stepped back.

An array bloomed beneath their feet.

A hastily cast, peak Level 4 Qi-Draining Array flared to life, lines of crimson and jade flickering with unstable energy. I didn’t have years of experience at this level. I had just become a level 4 Array Conjurer.

But I didn’t need years. I just needed this moment.

Their Qi faltered, ripped from them like wind sucked from their lungs. Streams of energy spiraled from their cores into my outstretched left hand, pouring into a jade cube.

They panicked.

A volley of attacks burst toward me; rock fists, ice blades, glass-like shards of translucent Qi.

I danced between them with calm precision, weaving through desperation as I closed in on the one at the back.

“S-Stay away!” he cried, his voice breaking as he backed up, struggling to stabilize his footing.

His fear was genuine.

He thought I was going to kill him.

I wasn’t.

But he had something I needed.

In one smooth motion, I reached out and slipped the storage ring from his finger, my hand brushing cold, clammy skin.

There it was.

The Hearthfire Ice-Stem Flower.

I could feel it pulsing faintly, even through the ring. Cold fire, delicate and alive.

Behind me, the array did its work.

Their Qi unraveled like threads, drawn from every limb and breath. One by one, they slumped to the ground. Unconscious, drained.

No time to linger.

Using the energy stored in the jade cube, I began carving the sealing array: Three straight lines. A circle. Three anchored squares. It pulsed softly as I guided it with precision, not power.

I checked the ring again. The flower glowed faintly, stem flickering like frostfire. Now I confirmed this was the Hearthfire Ice-Stem Flower.

I sealed the ring, slipped it into my pocket, and then funneled the last of my Qi into a final decoy.

A jade soldier burst into form beside me.

Faceless. Hollow-eyed. A ghost of light and stone.

It stood still as I staggered back, breath catching in my chest.

That would do.

It held enough residual Qi to leave a false trail.

Because by now, someone powerful had felt this. Some Core Formation cultivator, maybe more than one.

I bolted west.

Not toward the Serpent Bone Hall. Not toward any path they’d expect.

Every few hundred steps, I carved a Qi-disrupting array behind me, severing the flow, blurring the trail, choking off spiritual sense.

It wouldn’t hold forever.

But for now, it was smoke in the wind.

And that might just be enough.

…

In the end, I found a narrow, half-hidden cavern tucked behind a frost-slicked ridge. Remote enough to be overlooked. Wide enough to serve my purpose.

I slipped inside and immediately went to work.

For the next day, I didn't rest.

I arrayed the place to hell and back. Layer upon layer of traps, misdirection fields, Qi distortion webs, backlash runes, and even a few unstable formations that, frankly, might blow half the mountain apart if triggered. If anyone came, they'd be walking into a carefully arranged nightmare.

Then I waited.

This should've been the moment a Core Formation Cultivator made their move. They had every reason to chase, every ability to sense what I'd taken. But no one came.

Hours passed.

Then the full day.

Still nothing.

No looming pressure on the horizon. No flicker of high-level Qi creeping through the valley.

Had I really shaken them so easily?

Maybe they hadn't been that invested in the Hearthfire Ice-Stem Flower. Maybe they kept their Core Formation seniors at a distance to avoid suspicion. That would've made sense. But even then… for things to go this smoothly?

It didn't sit right.

Everything had worked. Too well, in fact.

My instincts prickled at the stillness like a storm holding its breath just beyond the ridge.

But the trap lay untouched.

The flower was still mine.

And that, I supposed, was a win.

I sighed. The sound echoed softly through the cavern, then faded into the dark. I turned and began the walk back toward the Serpent Bone Hall.

…

The path was cold and quiet. Five hours of nothing.

Snow crunched underfoot as I descended from the frozen ridges and stepped into the grasslands.

My pace stayed steady, my senses open but relaxed. No pursuit. No sudden presence behind me.

It was strange, returning in one piece.

Undetected. Successful.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Too quiet.

Had I really pulled this off?

Eventually, I arrived at the moss-covered trap door, which was a bit hard to find since it was in the middle of nowhere. One last glance around. Then I slipped inside, the damp breath of the underground brushing my skin like the cave exhaling.

Each step down clicked softly on the stairs beneath my weight, slick with humidity. I passed the half-dozing guard, who didn't even look up.

Soon I reached the small, dim room that had served as our cover. Our ridiculous, flawless alibi, dressed in illusion and a whole lot of noise.

The door stood as I left it. Closed. Silent.

I leaned close, ear against the wood.

Sure enough, Fu Yating was still at it, making lewd, exaggerated noises. Just believable enough to fool a passing ear. Just absurd enough to make me smirk.

I chuckled and pushed the door open.

She instantly yanked a blanket over herself, fully clothed beneath it, of course. The fake modesty only made it funnier.

Her eyes met mine. Mischievous. Bright. That smile of hers, half proud and half-mocking, said it all: Welcome back.

And for once… after everything… It actually felt like I had returned to something close to normal.

“Did you get it?” Fu Yating asked, voice casual, but her eyes already knowing.

I nodded once.

Without missing a beat, she added, “Well, you know I’ll be taking a part of whatever you got, right?”

“Sure,” I shrugged, not even bothering to argue.

One of the petals was a small price to pay. The true value of the Hearthfire Ice-Stem Flower was in the stem and the fusion of opposing elements, cold and fire, locked in perfect balance. That was what made it priceless.

And that was what I wasn’t sharing.

“Anyway,” I said, lowering my voice, “we need to leave. We can’t afford to absorb it here.”

She tilted her head, curious, but didn’t press.

“I’d have to… take it out.” I kept the explanation brief.

She didn’t need more. Her sharp mind filled in the blanks immediately, and her expression hardened with understanding.

I might be able to mask the flower’s aura from Foundation Establishment cultivators if I layered the right arrays. But from Core Formation experts?

No chance. They’d sniff it out like blood in the water.

She nodded. “Then let’s move quickly.”

We were completely aligned for once. Quiet, cautious, and ready to vanish before the real predators caught our scent.

With a wave of my hand, I dismissed the jade soldier lying stiffly on the bed and immediately felt a small rush of Qi return to me. My presence flared slightly, no longer the quiet whisper it had been.

Now that I was thinking about it…

Other otherworlders who got transferred here with their original bodies and no Qi must’ve been invisible to spiritual senses. To cultivators, they were basically rocks. Different enough to miss out on the wonders of cultivation. Similar enough that whatever ungodly Earth diseases they carried still translated to this world’s humans.

Not a great tradeoff.

We stepped out into the winding underground streets, the slow hum of Serpent Bone Hall life brushing past us. Dim light flickered along the path, faintly glowing stones embedded in the cavern walls casting long, warping shadows with every movement.

Didn’t take long.

A lone figure, probably a junior disciple, strolled down the walkway with a relaxed, unhurried gait. Perfect.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” I called out, stepping toward him. “But Elder Bai Shang said if I needed something, I could ask someone to either bring him to me or lead me to him.”

The man blinked, caught off guard. “Um… are you an outsider?”

“Yes,” I replied evenly. “I’m a guest from the Blazing Sun Sect.”

His posture eased. The name carried enough weight to kill most suspicion.

“Oh,” he said, then gestured toward one of the carved-out rooms farther down the corridor. “Elder Bai Shang is usually in there, doing some indoor cultivation.”

“Would now be a good time to speak to him?”

“If you’ve got a good enough reason, sure. He’s not the type to throw people out for knocking.”

“Thanks,” I said.

He gave a polite murmur and wandered on, his footsteps soon swallowed by the stone-walled silence.

With that settled, Fu Yating and I made our way back to our original room. The creaky stairs and soft echoes of distant voices reminded me just how deep underground we still were. Inside, Wu Yan and Speedy were curled up asleep, but the moment we opened the door, they stirred.

"Okay, get ready," I said, voice calm but firm. "We're leaving."

There wasn't much to gather. No luggage. No equipment. Just our storage rings.

Speedy was the first to move, yawning as he stepped toward the exit. The dim light masked it, but as he passed through the doorway, I noticed it was wide, much wider than any normal door. Someone had carved this with monstrous beasts in mind.

We regrouped and walked together through the winding cavern paths. Moving as one, all eyes forward, we made our way toward Elder Bai Shang's chamber, the same man who had once brought me in.

Now, he would be the one to see me out.

I sensed his presence before we even reached the door. Calm. Steady. Unmistakably, Bai Shang. Taking a slow breath, I raised my hand and knocked, bracing myself.

But when the door opened, Bai Shang greeted me with a warm and casual smile. As if I were an old friend instead of someone knocking on a Core Formation cultivator's door mid-cultivation.

Imagine if he failed his breakthrough just because I interrupted him with a knock. That'd be something.

"Oh, hey! I was just thinking about you," he said. "I had a talk with the other elders. We unanimously agreed to support Song Song as the next Clan Head and Sect Leader."

I nodded, though the words only half registered. My mind was elsewhere, already turning over escape routes and next steps. Still, the vote was confirmation. The Song Clan hadn't lost its grip. If anything, their influence remained terrifyingly intact.

"That's good to hear," I said. "But after thinking about it, I've decided not to stick around too long."

Bai Shang gave a soft chuckle and nodded. "Well, I'm sad to see you go so soon. But I'm sure you have your reasons. Come, let me walk you to the same door you entered through. It's only right I escort you out."

I agreed, and we began moving through the low-lit corridors. As we walked, Bai Shang and I slipped into light conversation. Small talk about politics within the Serpent Bone Hall, cultivation pressures, and sect affairs that weren't quite important enough to record but were not meaningless either.

"Even the most reckless Song Clan leaders have always proven to be reliable," he said, his voice carrying quiet pride.

I nodded thoughtfully.

"The Song Clan leaders have a history of… amazing people," I replied.

Though "amazing" might not have been the right word. Brutal, calculating, power-hungry? Definitely. But in their own ruthless, blood-soaked way, they were remarkable. Born from a clan that devoured weakness and rewarded ambition, it was no surprise that those who rose to the top carried a dangerous brilliance.

Not always moral. Rarely kind.

But effective.

And sometimes, that was all that mattered.

"When they take that leadership position, and the previous leader steps down, the new one gains wisdom beyond their years. It changes them," Bai Shang said, his voice calm and reflective. "My father was one of the main supporters of the current Song Clan Leader. He used to say the man was obsessed with trying to please his father and earn affection from his mother. But that all changed when he became Clan Head."

We reached the gate, the same massive stone door marked by a grim skull, its hollow eyes staring down with quiet malice. The obsidian serpent curled from its mouth caught the cavern's light with that same eerie shimmer, its inky black surface glinting like a black diamond.

The whole walk, I'd only given Bai Shang half my attention.

The rest of me was focused on the Hearthfire Ice-Stem Flower in my storage ring: how to use it, how to protect it, how to dissect its mysteries.

But when the gate began to groan open, something inside me clicked.

Not the gate.

Me.

Everything snapped into place in a sickening rush of clarity.

Song Song's voice echoed in my mind, cold, sharp, and certain, as she told her father she was going to destroy the Song Clan. I remembered his face when she said it.

Calm. Unbothered. Amused.

Not defiant. Not angry. Not even insulted.

Unworried.

Why?

Why wouldn't a man so deeply tied to the clan's legacy care if his own daughter planned to destroy everything he built? Or that she had all but said she was going to kill him?

Why did everyone say that becoming the leader "changed" you?

Unless…

It wasn't a change at all.

Unless he already knew.

Unless it was him, the current clan leader, who planned to do it.

Body possession.

Body takeover.

Of course.

If he meant to take her body, then her dreams, her ideals, her anger... they were just background noise to him. Just a few final gasps from a vessel he was planning to wear.

It would explain everything, his calm. The way each Song Clan leader seemed to shift in personality. The strange reverence, the undercurrent of fear, that surrounded every new head of the family.

My heart thudded. Cold sweat trickled down the back of my neck.

Shit.

Sending Song Song off to train with her father might've been the worst decision I've ever made.

Was it an ancestor? An immortal? Someone strong enough and old enough to hijack generation after generation?

But who?

There were no records. No legends. No whispers in the archives about some founder haunting the bloodline. No ancient ghost steering the ship from the shadows.

No one had even dared to speculate.

And now I might've just handed Song Song over to something far, far worse than I could've imagined.

Fuck.

.

.

.

.

.

END OF BOOK 4