452 Problematic Cultivation

452 Problematic Cultivation

I soared across the sky, standing atop my sword as it cut through the wind like a silver comet. I had little practice traveling this way. Normally, I relied on magical flying boats and shamelessly abused their warp arrays to get wherever I needed to go. Convenience had spoiled me. Still, it was always good to have more options during an adventure. If our vessel were ever damaged and we ended up stranded in some forgotten corner of existence, I would rather not regret lacking something as basic as flight.

Ru Qiu followed closely behind me, seated cross-legged atop a dark, fiery dragon that coiled through the clouds with regal arrogance. Of course, he had to do it with style. The dragon’s scales burned like embers in a dying forge, scattering sparks into the sky.

“Thanks for coming along with me,” I said over my shoulder.

“It sounded serious,” he replied calmly, wind tugging at his sleeves but failing to disturb his posture.

Below us, much of the Hollowed World was still rebuilding. Cities were half-formed skeletons of stone and light. Forests were growing back in uneven patches. Even from this height, I could see players forming parties and charging at a band of brigands along a fractured road. Their coordination was messy but enthusiastic. For now, I would leave them here in the Hollowed World. Only when they were strong enough would I consider unleashing them upon the Greater Universe. If that proved too risky, I would first establish a secure base beyond this realm and send them out gradually.

We stopped above the ocean, where the water stretched endlessly beneath us like polished obsidian. If one intended to do something reckless, it was best done where no one else would suffer the aftermath. Bringing Ru Qiu, arguably second only to me in strength, was a precaution in case something unexpected happened.

I stepped off my sword and returned it to my pocket dimension. Even without it, I remained suspended in the air, walking along invisible footholds. Ru Qiu did the same, his dragon dissolving into smoke beneath him.

Then my body convulsed.

I began vomiting copious amounts of blood, the red scattering into the wind before evaporating into spiritual mist.

Ru Qiu’s calm expression cracked. “Are you okay? What happened? Did you exchange one injury for another?”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my sleeve and forced a breath through my lungs. “No, no. I’m perfectly fine. This is the result of the different power systems inside me. It seems the reason I was able to use them harmoniously was because of the Source. Without it, I’m basically a walking nuke with faulty control.” I coughed lightly and straightened. “Thankfully, I don’t have to hold on for long. I’d hate to worry the others.”

I hesitated before continuing. “Also, I’m sorry. It looks like I won’t be able to give the Source to you. Now that it’s gone, why do you still insist on coming with me?”

He shrugged faintly. “It’s fine. You’re the closest thing I have to an ally. Besides, I was more curious about the players.”

He pointed to my left. A small floating boat hovered at the edge of the clouds, trying very hard to look inconspicuous.

“How did they find us?” I muttered.

Focusing my perception, I noticed a faint tracking mark hidden in the folds of my robe. I clicked my tongue and burned it away with Searing Smite, erasing the signature completely. Sly bastards.

From the distant boat, faint shouts carried across the wind.

“It must be some quest!”

“Hurry, exhaust the warp array if you have to!”

“Hey, they noticed us!”

“Let’s just stay on the side and watch the cut-scene!”

I sighed. Using the Dark Veil and Hollow Star, I folded space and teleported the entire boat far away from us, dropping them gently near a safe coastline with no memory of our exact location. Within the Hollowed World, as long as I held ownership of those two items, I possessed something close to omnipotence.

“Yeah, these players are really a bunch of trouble,” I said as we hovered above the endless ocean. The wind howled past us, but the waves below remained eerily calm. “I’m eager to send them to the Greater Universe, but if the Six Supremes assume they’re anything like us, they’ll eventually catch on to their nature. And once they do, they might even use them against us.”

The players were a true miracle born from the Source. They perceived this world as a game and manifested here as avatars, detached yet deeply entangled. I had left an entire manual for Nongmin detailing how to manage them, how to guide their progression, and how to weaponize their recklessness without letting it spiral into catastrophe. Whether he could actually follow it without improvising was another matter.

Ru Qiu folded his arms within his sleeves, studying me instead of the sea. “So how bad is it?” he asked. “The side effects of ripping out the Source must’ve hurt. When it happened to me, I lost a significant portion of my memories and even spent time wandering as a clueless mortal. The nightmares alone were unbearable.”

“It’s nothing, really,” I replied.

He stared at me flatly. “Stop dressing it up. You brought me instead of Alice because you can be frank with me.” His voice sharpened. “The suffering I endured splitting time through the Source was so excruciating I forgot who I was. And you? You destroyed it. Even if it was worn down, you must have felt something. How could the Source even be worn down? Are you lying about that part too? It sounds like something you made up on the spot to justify your next reckless move, and somehow reality just bent itself to make you right.”

I felt mildly offended. “I’m hurt,” I said dryly. “No, I promise. I got away rather clenly, not like how you described your experience. It really was worn down, so much that destroying it took surprisingly little effort. Besides, it was just one surface of the Source, not the Source in its entirety. More like a projection.” I paused, letting the implication settle. “Now that I think about it, that thing is actually quite terrifying.”

Ru Qiu shrugged. “If you insist, then fine. I won’t keep pressing you.” He gave me a long look. “But tell me how bad it actually is so I know what we’re dealing with.”

I exhaled slowly. “Alright. Here’s the situation. I’m currently carrying multiple power systems that don’t exactly coexist peacefully.” I began counting them off on my fingers. “There’s the Six Paths derived from the Longevity Method. The Paladin Legacy based on the Transcendent Method. Aura Mastery born from martial arts. The Warlock Legacy that my other self cultivated after his Paladin Legacy diverged. A generous collection of curses that, again, my other self accumulated. A fragment of the Supreme Void that he somehow pilfered. The concentrated lump of misfortune I’ve gathered since arriving in this world and never properly processed. The untapped, mysterious power from the Blood Pact I share with Alice. The power of faith drawn from my believers. And of course, the Hollow Star and the Dark Veil.”

I blinked. “I almost forgot those existed.”

Ru Qiu stared at me as if I had just confessed to storing explosives inside my organs. He waved his hands in disbelief. “Let me guess. Half of those powers you just mentioned, you can’t even properly use. Because I’d know.”

I raised a finger. “Wait. I haven’t gotten to the best part yet.”

His expression darkened. “There’s more?”

“My trait of supremacy,” I said, turning to Ru Qiu with a serious expression. “Can you tell me more about it? As my senior in this business, you should know something. That’s part of the reason I asked you to come with me. It’s preparation for this grand expedition. There’s definitely going to be a lot of fighting out there, and I don’t want to arrive under-dressed and glitching.”

At my question, Ru Qiu looked unexpectedly embarrassed.

“I haven’t unlocked my trait of supremacy yet,” he admitted, avoiding eye contact. “It’s fine. I can still pull my weight—”

“Bullshit!” I snapped.

There was no way. This was the same guy who ran across the space between the Hollowed World and False Earth like it was a casual jog. The same guy who evaded that monstrous Warden and then kidnapped the Yellow Emperor so I could interrogate him. And he was telling me he hadn’t unlocked his trait yet?

Yeah. Bullshit.

Ru Qiu coughed lightly and changed the subject with suspicious speed. “Let’s talk about you instead. What exactly is the problem? Did you bring me here just to show off? Like, ‘Hey Ru Qiu, look at me. I have so many awesome powers. My golden finger matches every finger on my hands and feet. I’m so powerful.’”

“Time out,” I muttered, massaging my forehead.

Ever since this guy recovered his memories of Earth, he had been turning into more and more of a troll. It was funny when someone else was the target. It was decidedly less funny when I was.

I faked a cough and reoriented myself. “The problem is that these powers are getting out of control. I believe the Source played a massive role in harmonizing them. The moment it vanished, the balance began destabilizing. They’re starting to interfere with one another.” I looked at him seriously. “I need your help to extract them from me and seal them somewhere.”

He stared at me for a long moment before scoffing. “Hah. And you expect us to do that? David, we’re the brawn-before-brains type. We punch things. We don’t do delicate surgery on metaphysical nuclear reactors.” He gestured at me lazily. “What exactly do you expect? You want me to kill you? Beat the powers out of your system?”

I shuddered involuntarily at the memory of Feng Wei beating the absolute life out of me during training.

I raised both hands placatingly. “Calm down. There’s no need for violence. I was thinking of sealing my memories of the powers. I’ve done it before when Wen Yuhan tried to steal my body. I pulled an uno reverse on her and—”

“I don’t need the play-by-play,” Ru Qiu cut in mercilessly. “Memories and powers don’t work like that, David. The body and the mind are different domains. These powers exist simultaneously in both. Back on Earth, there were entire theological systems built around the separation of body and soul. Some cultures believed humans had multiple souls. Six, even. One for each limb, one for the head, one for the heart.”

I blinked at him. “How do you know this stuff? Weren’t you a PC shop owner?”

He straightened indignantly. “Hey. That’s an honorable job. It brings smile to the people.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t. I’m just saying it’s weird how you’re suddenly throwing out metaphysical trivia.”

He clicked his tongue. “Listen. Earth. The Source. I didn’t master it, but I understand parts of how it works. The small things we experienced there matter here. Scientific theories, philosophical debates, religious speculation—stuff that seemed mundane back home—can become foundational principles when applied at a cultivation level.” His expression sharpened. “When those ideas scale up, they reshape how we grow at the macro level.”

The ocean wind howled around us as his words sank in.

“You’re saying,” I murmured slowly, “that if I treat this like a simple energy problem, I’ll fail.”

“I’m saying,” he replied evenly, “that what you’re carrying isn’t just power. It’s identity, causality, belief, narrative, and contradiction all stacked inside one vessel. You can’t just carve it out without understanding what part of you it’s attached to.”

A faint tremor ran through my body as if the powers inside me reacted to his words.

I forced a grin. “So you’re telling me I’m not just a walking nuke with faulty control.”

He gave me a flat look. “No. You’re a walking philosophical disaster with faulty control.”

I sighed. “That somehow sounds worse.”

“It is,” he said calmly.

That wasn’t putting it lightly.

Ru Qiu was basically saying that any spiritual theory, cultural belief, or half-baked philosophy from Earth could manifest here and mutate into something far greater. A theologian might become a prophet of tangible divinity. A psychologist could rewrite souls. A physicist… I shuddered at that thought. If someone who truly understood the fundamentals of reality were summoned here, what would they become?

For a fleeting second, a ridiculous idea surfaced.

What if one of the Six Supremes had been something like that?

I let out a quiet breath and dismissed it. These were what-ifs. Speculation didn’t solve the bomb ticking inside my ribs. I needed to focus on what was in front of me.

“What do you suggest then?” I asked. “Do you have a better idea?”

If we still had the Source, we could have gambled. Wish it until we make it. Force harmony through sheer narrative audacity. But this problem existed precisely because we no longer had it.

Ru Qiu tilted his head. “What about the Hollow Star or the Dark Veil?”

I manifested them at once. A crown of dim, distorted starlight settled above my head, while a cape woven from living darkness draped across my shoulders.

“They won’t be able to do anything,” I said. “They’re part of my body now. I need to get rid of them too. I can’t even leave the Hollowed World while they’re on me. It’s like I’m anchored here.”

Ru Qiu stared at me with a thousand-yard gaze, the kind that suggested he was reconsidering every life decision that led him to this moment.

“So this is why you brought me here,” he said flatly. “To give me a headache.”

I offered an awkward smile. “If sealing everything through memory suppression worked, I would’ve done it already.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Piece of shit.”

“Hey, that’s too much.”

“Amoeba.”

“Are you picking a fight?”

“No,” he replied calmly. “I might lose.”

I blinked. “Wow. That’s honestly shameless.”

He ignored me. “Can’t you just make a clone and dump everything onto it?”

“The foundation of my clones and avatars is the Six Paths,” I explained. “I don’t have a spare soul to offload this onto. And a Manasoul won’t work. They’re temporary constructs.”

His glare sharpened. “That’s another source of disharmony, isn’t it? Mana and qi coexisting in one body.”

I avoided eye contact.

I honestly hadn’t expected him to notice that.

He cursed under his breath. “You arrogant piece of shit. This is what happens when you don’t build your cultivation with a direction in mind. You should’ve joined a sect. Found a master. Learned discipline. The other you secured his foundation properly and focused on what he had. And you?” He jabbed a finger toward my chest. “You’re hoarding everything you find like a raccoon with divine authority.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he steamrolled right over me.

“The disharmony you’re feeling? A normal cultivator would experience that the moment their path became this jumbled. Actually, no. They’d die long before reaching your level. You’re only alive because your foundation is absurdly strong and because the Source was babysitting your mess.”

I tried to defend myself. “I’m min-maxing.”

He stared at me in disbelief. “You’re not min-maxing. You’re stagnant water trying to hoard every shiny thing at the bottom of the river. Now you’re so bloated you can barely move.”

That one hurt.

I hadn’t expected Ru Qiu of all people to scold me this harshly. He was usually the arrogant one in the equation. The guy who charged first and figured things out later. Yet here he was, lecturing me about foundation and direction like some orthodox elder.

I didn’t have a clever comeback.

Of course, Ru Qiu wasn’t done.

He crossed his arms and began pacing in midair as if he were delivering a lecture to an especially disappointing disciple.

“You’re like a self-insert character who got all the cheats,” he said. “The most powerful existence in all of existence. Everything bends your way. All you need is more power. Then more power. Then when you finally become a god, no one can stop you. In fact, why are we even talking about sealing anything? Let’s just let it ride. It’ll probably be fine.”

He clapped slowly, sarcasm practically dripping into the ocean below.

“You’re basically the protagonist, right? No need to do something bothersome like balancing your build. No need to nerf yourself. Actually, this isn’t even a nerf. It’s more like a demotion in rank, which is almost funny. Surely destiny has better plans for you. Surely it won’t let you implode under the weight of your own blessings. Yeah, everything will work out. Let’s just go back and prepare for the expedition instead.”

I stared at him. “Are you done? That was a high-level rant filled with sarcasm.”

He gave me a thin smile.

Deep down, I had always assumed I could harmonize my powers eventually. I thought it was just a matter of time and refinement. I hadn’t expected the Source to be doing so much of the heavy lifting behind the scenes.

“Do you want my honest opinion about how you handle your power?” he asked.

I hesitated. “What?”

“It’s very un-paladin-like,” he said bluntly. “You cast spells at long range. You stack buffs. You spam skills. The cultivation world pushed you into chasing raw firepower because that’s what cultivators love to flaunt.”

“As if you don’t like showing off,” I shot back.

He shrugged. “My Immortal Art is flashy, sure. But it’s a convergence of many powers I cultivated over a long, coherent path. Yours?” He pointed at me again. “Your abilities are heading in completely different directions.”

He continued before I could interrupt.

“The Transcendent Method and the Longevity Method both reach Ascended Soul at their peak. That symmetry is a clue in itself. Different roads, same summit. Your problem is that you’re trying to climb ten mountains at once. In exchange for immediate power, you sacrificed long-term potential.”

His words sank deeper than I expected.

“I thought it would be fine because you had the Source,” he admitted. “Even after you lost it, I assumed you’d recover it eventually. I didn’t think it was this bad. You just vomited a lake of blood a few minutes ago. That’s not cosmetic damage.”

The ocean wind felt colder.

“David,” he continued more seriously, “this is grave. Many people rely on you. If your growth stagnates or collapses, it won’t just be your problem. Sealing your powers won’t be enough.”

I exhaled slowly, feeling a heaviness settle into my chest. “Then what do you suggest?”

“To give up on all this power.”

I recoiled immediately. “If you’re suggesting I cripple myself and start from scratch, then absolutely not.”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. I have an idea. It doesn’t necessarily involve resetting everything.”

Relief washed over me for half a second.

“I believe,” he continued carefully, “in game terms, it’s like re-rolling a new character combined with a bit of EXP loss.”

I stared at him.

“That’s not better,” I said flatly. “That’s just crippling myself with extra steps.”

He didn’t laugh.

Instead, he looked at me with unsettling seriousness.

“You won’t lose your experience,” he clarified. “You’ll keep your insight, your understanding, your instincts. But your current structure? Your framework? That has to change. You can’t keep stacking incompatible systems on top of each other. You need a new foundation that can legitimately house everything… or deliberately reject most of it.”

The wind roared louder, as if the world itself were waiting for my answer.

Inside me, qi clashed with mana. Faith brushed against curse. Void hummed beneath Longevity. The Hollow Star pulsed faintly above my brow while the Dark Veil tightened across my shoulders like a silent reminder of my ownership.

Re-roll.

EXP loss.

New foundation.

I had spent so long accumulating power that the idea of stepping back felt like sacrilege.

Yet the taste of blood still lingered in my mouth.

I looked at Ru Qiu and forced a thin smile. “If I do this and it fails, I’m blaming you.”

He snorted. “If you don’t do this, you might not live long enough to blame anyone.”

That was annoyingly reasonable.

I rubbed my face and muttered, “You know, when I invited you here, I was hoping for encouragement.”

“You don’t need encouragement,” he replied calmly. “You need structure.”

I hated that he was right.