What do you mean I'm a cultivator?-Chapter 55

Just hammering down again and again, forming those chunks into places, that would turn into what he needed.

Each time he placed a plate, he used his Forging technique to connect each piece to the ones, ensuring a smooth, uniform structure.

Finally, once the chamber’s foundation was nearly complete, Cheng sat cross. legged at the center of it, breathing heavily. His clothes clung to him, stiff with dried sweat. His hands, calloused and scarred, rested on his knees.

His eyes turned to the box.

Still sealed. Still humming faintly with restrained power.

Cheng stood slowly, every joint creaking.

The lid creaked open.

A pulse of pressure swept through the pit, snuffing out the flames of the forge for a brief instant.

Inside, the chunk of Spirit Iron was even more awe inspiring up close. It wasn’t simply condensed metal thanks to a array.

Threads of silver and blue danced across its surface, whispering of storms, of deep earth, of time itself compressed into matter.

This was not ordinary Spirit iron. It was one that would be used to form materials like Chromatic iron. It was purified. Qi was forced in it, till it settled in it.

Cheng reached in, hands steady despite the trembling in his arms, and lifted it out.

It fought him. The metal wanted to unfold, to expand back into its true size, but Cheng snarled low in his throat, forcefully binding it with his Qi, not letting it expand.

With a throw to the side, he let out a deep breath.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

"That's good for practice." He mumbled. It was by far the hardest thing he had pulled off with his Qi. And in a way, he failed. HIs connection to his own Qi seemed to be lower than he thought.

Or perhaps, the compression of the arrays carved on the box, was more powerful than he thought.

As he watched the chunk rapidly expand to it's original size, he let out an exhale.

It was massive. Easily four times his height, and around six times in width.

It was almost more than he needed. Almost.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Time passed like a quiet river flowing.

Now nearing his fortieth year, Cheng stood at the edge of the cavern, hidden deep beneath the earth, beneath the modest wooden cabin that had seen it all. His first day here. Up until here.

Cheng's breathing was steady.

Before him, buried in the gloom, the chamber rested.

A cube of one hundred meters of pure Spirit Iron. Its presence was suffocating. Not because it exuded Qi. Sure, the amount naturally stored in it was enough to bring multiple people to the peak of Qi condensation, if one disregarded all the loss that extracting said Qi would bring.

But because of what it represented. What it contained.

Every plate had been shaped with his hands, every layer forged by fire and years of ruthless focus. The chamber stood untouched by light, hidden beneath the cabin.

It was massive. Imposing. Ready.

But not finished.

The arrays had not yet been formed on it.

He hadn't tried. Not until he was absolutely certain it was complete.

And still, even now, as he stood before the completed chamber, his life's most meticulous work, Cheng did not move.

His arms were crossed, one hand on his chin, his robe faintly rippling from the cold air that trickled down from the open shaft above, the only passage that connected the chamber to the world above.

From there, the surface looked like nothing but a random outer disciple's hut, nested closely with other cabins.

Cheng exhaled slowly, watching the mist of his breath dissolve. Even in the absence of light, his eyes were sharp enough to see such.

The cube wasn’t simply a construct. It was a statement. To himself.

It was shouting to Cheng. 'You made this. This is your's and your's only.'

He had not broken through to Foundation Establishment like the others from his sect. Not with pills. Not with elixirs, not under the 'guidance' of the elders.

By now, the elders had mostly gone uninterested in him, except from Elder feng. They thought he was slow. Just another one that cultivated rather fast, but got stuck at the most crucial boundry.

And maybe he was. Maybe all of this had been for nothing.

But Cheng wasn’t aiming for a breakthrough. He was aiming for perfection. Not because Cheng was an idealist. But because he wanted to be the one to change things. The ideas were already here.

If attempting to break into foundation establishment lead to dissipating their cultivation if one too their time, then seal them in a room. and let them try again.

The outer sect members were less talented. That was the truth. But not striving for innovation was foolish. Sure, it would likely take quite the resources to develop and build something big enough to bring benefits, but that was looking at it in the short term.

Sects had long histories. If you didn't try to uplift even the weakest, then was there a point into having them?

Sure. Sects needed working hands. For any task deemed below the inner sect.

But if the sect cared about foundation establishment and above, they should have tried to find a way to increase their numbers.

Cheng wasn't privy to the whole view. But just gathering talents, letting the lowest of them rot, when it was proven they could break through with a helping hand, was simply stupid.

And that, was why Cheng tried. Gambled with his cultivation and life.

The moment he stepped into that chamber and sealed the doors behind him, there would be no interruption. No sudden help. No second chance.

He would ignite every last scrap of potential he had hoarded and hammer it, like metal, into something greater.

And if he. Physical, Spiritual, and otherwise wasn’t flawless?

Then the chamber would become his tomb. He would just be another reckless, nameless fool that tried and failed, destined to be lost in the annals of time.

He took a few steps forward, boots echoing softly on the stone. The cube loomed larger with every step. There were no markings on its surface yet. No array lines. No inscriptions. Just smooth, seamless spirit iron, polished by countless hours of his touch. It sat there, heavy and patient, waiting.

Cheng placed a hand against the cool metal.

It didn’t hum. It didn’t shudder. It simply was.

That was the terrifying part. How silent it all was.

The time for forging had passed. The time for preparation was nearing its end.

Soon he would begin carving the arrays.

He swallowed.

His heart beat once. Twice.

Still steady.

Still calm.

But even calm men could feel the weight of what they were about to attempt.

Behind him, the quiet crackle of the forge could still be heard, kept low like a heartbeat in the dark. Somewhere far above, Yiren might have passed by the cabin again, wondering when he would finally open the door and speak.

He knew Cheng was likely focused on something and kept his distance. Sure, Yiren was easily editable, and happy go lucky.

But what he wasn't, was an idiot.

On Innate Qi of Materials.

Excerpt from “The Hidden Flow: A Study of Qi in Form and Function.”

Scholar Wei An Wei. Steward of the hidden tree village.

Most cultivators understand Qi as something to gather and release. A force that flows.

But beyond this lies a subtler truth. Innate Qi. The kind that settles not in a dantian, or the very air we breathe in, but in matter itself.

Take wood, for example. When left for years in a place saturated with Qi, be it a battlefield, an ancient grove, the wood slowly absorbs Qi.

Not like a pill, which stores Qi ready to burst forth, but like a tree's rings, holding time itself.

Qi does not sit atop the grain, it sinks within, becoming part of the wood’s nature.

This wood gains weight without mass, strength without brittleness.

It resists rot, holds form. Yet, the Qi inside cannot be drawn out easily. It is not free flowing. It is bound.

This is the essence of Innate Qi. Qi made structural, inseparable from the material it has settled into. It cannot be consumed, but it empowers. Just as a Foundation Establishment cultivator binds Qi into flesh and bone to strengthen the vessel, so too does wood, or stone, or metal bind Qi into itself with time.