What do you mean I'm a cultivator?-Chapter 56

Cheng stood. Watching.

Waiting. For that moment. The moment that would push forward the start of what might as well lead to his death.

For when the arrays would be formed, there would be no going back.

Beneath the weight of earth and silence, Cheng moved like a ghost.

Fluid and precise, the force of his Qi pushing on the surface of the chamber, the knife in his hand carving the arrays that would propel him into the perfect foundation he envisioned.

So Cheng carved.

Stroke by stroke, he embedded his will into the surface of the chamber.

The sealing array he had designed wasn’t standard. It was his own creation entirely. One born from his experience of forming Qi condensation level arrays.

It was perfect. Qi in, nothing out.

The core concept of the array was simple.

An array of interlinked lines that connected the so called sealing array and gathering arrays.

But it was the layering that made it truly unique. As far as Cheng knew, no other array on the Qi condensation realm was this complex. Perhaps it is even more complex than a foundation establishment one.

Every single line had a part. After all, the array that he called the foundation array was made for the specific measurements of the chamber. each piece to click with another, leaving zero room for failure.

By the end of the third day, the outer surface of the cube shimmered faintly under the cover of the dark pit, as remnants of his Qi flowed through them.

Seeing that at no place did the Qi not flow as intended, he let out an exhale.

"This is it." Cheng mumbled.

Then he stepped inside, grateful that his master had assigned him a mission, the perfect cover for his breakthrough. Sure, without such a cover, nobody would come looking for him. But when he'd break through, answers would be demanded.

And his disappearance from a single day of the tasks, let alone potentially weeks, would surely brand him as a traitor or something. Under his master's cover, it would be easier to explain such a breakthrough.

"Perhaps a sudden enlightenment." Cheng mumbled, hearing his voice reverberate in the darkness of what could very well be his grave.

The interior of the chamber was like entering a different world. Silent, cool, and vast.

He walked barefoot across the iron floor, every footfall echoing softly in the absolute stillness. It was so quiet, he began to hear his blood.

Not in some spiritual way. It was simply so quiet that his heart sounded like lightning striking down, and his blood flowed like a raging river.

The gathering array came next.

Normally, it was designed to pull in ambient Qi from the surroundings.

But Cheng had woven into it something more. parts of the purifying array, as well as parts of the sealing array, but in reverse, leading to a much more potent array.

Sure, some high cultivator would need mere moments to improve such. But there was no need to, when an array that was simply better in every way existed.

The inner array would not just gather Qi. It would process it. Refine it. Filter out the noise, the stray imbalances, the impurities that might destabilize his breakthrough.

Cheng was not attuned to an element. And that simply meant that the Qi would have to have equal parts of all the affinities, much like how black had every color in it.

That posed the question. Was he simply untalented, or was this some hidden benefit?

He had read that fire attunement made water attuned arts much harder to perform, and in some cases, almost impossible.

It almost felt like a trap. What would he do if he had the fire element on his side, only to end up in a sea of water?

Cheng felt like that was not his way. Instead of walking down one path, he would walk them all, yet none. Take pieces from one path and use them. And repeat.

When the last of the array was etched, Cheng stood at the center of the chamber. He looked up at the high ceiling, and he stepped outside.

He stood once more at the edge of the chamber, hands behind his back as he walked around it, gaze steady as he looked upon the work of his hands. The result of nearly twenty years of obsession.

It was complete.

The chamber.

The array.

Every piece in place, every risk calculated, every failure accounted for.

And now, there was nothing left to do.

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No more refining. No more tests. No more waiting.

Only one thing remained.

Break through again and again, till the foundation was perfect. Or die trying.

Cheng exhaled, the sound soft in the dark. His breath curled in front of him, faintly touched with the heat of the forge still flickering far behind him.

Then he stepped inside for what might be the final time.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Cheng pressed his palm to the inner edge of the chamber door, a curved seam barely visible against the spirit iron wall. A pulse of Qi surged outward from him, flowing through the formation lines etched around the entrance. They lit up in a rippling wave, one after another, like stars blooming in sequence. Then, silence.

The entrance sealed shut behind him, locking with a deep, muffled thud that echoed through the chamber’s dense air. The final rune above glimmered once, then faded, and all light from the outside world vanished, leaving him locked inside.

Thankfully, the sealing array could also seal in air, leaving Cheng in no real danger of running out of it.

He was alone now.

Truly, absolutely alone. The walls were so thick that no attack of his could even dent them. Unless he opened the door, something he wasn't, he was truly trapped in.

He turned, walking barefoot to the center of the chamber, each step steady, each breath measured.

The floor, polished to a mirror sheen by his own hand, reflected him like water, albeit faint, thanks to the darkness of the chamber.

There, upon the carved platform in the center of the array, Cheng sat down in a lotus position.

From within his robe, he withdrew the chunk of wood.

At first glance, it was nothing extraordinary.

Just a rough, dark grain of bark wrapped timber, weathered with age, colored a deep, dark by the same lightning that had struck that fateful tree.

But when Cheng brushed his fingers across its surface, it pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat responding to his touch.

This was no ordinary wood.

It had once been struck by lightning, changing it to something more.

It had absorbed Qi for almost two and a half decades, guided by Cheng's own absorption. Even as Cheng had stopped, pouring anything he gathered into the wood, it kept going, gathering Qi on its own.

Slowly. Silently. Purposefully.

Over the years, it had kept on guiding Qi in its structure naturally, something Cheng didn't know was possible from what was written in the Qi condensation grade books, separating it from standard materials.

Now, it carried nearly three times the Qi that a peak fifteenth realm Qi Condensation cultivator could hold. It was a huge amount of Qi. Yet still, it had not changed, at least appearance wise.

What did change was the bond between it and Cheng.

He could truly feel it now. The faint tether between them. Like a small thread connecting them in a way he couldn't yet comprehend properly. He lacked the necessary senses for that.

Invisible, intangible, yet undeniable. Even if the wood were buried a thousand Zhang away, Cheng would find it with his eyes closed.

He breathed in. Then out.

He felt the chunk of wood hum.

And then, release.

Qi poured from the wood like water breaking a dam. It didn’t explode, didn’t roar.

Quiet. Dense. carefree. The chamber, already sealed tight, stopped the Qi from dissipating further. And so, the air thickened. The iron floor vibrated for a second as the array properly came to life.

Cheng remained still, eyes closed, the wood resting in his hands, spent, empty, yet as connected as ever.

This was the sole reason he had any real confidence in his plans working. The chunk of wood, whatever it was, could store massive amounts of Qi. hell, he doubted if even ten times would make it strain.

It allowed him to gather a huge amount of Qi, without worrying where to store it. Despite his best efforts, his sealing arrays just couldn't hold Qi for more than a year. Be it a lack of a proper container, or some theory, the scant books he had didn't hold.

He hoped it wasn't intentional. because if it was, it meant one thing.

Those sitting at the top of this world didn't like change. After all, they most likely could live forever. Change was dangerous to them. And so, if they kept small parts of knowledge that seemed insignificant to the common eye, they would make sure nobody could build a better foundation, and usurp them.

Cheng let a deep breath out and focused on himself. Then, he felt it.

The Qi around him. It felt weird. It was unlike anything he had ever cultivated within.

It was thick. Almost as thick as his own reserves, thanks to the chunk of wood, and slowly climbing up, thanks to the array.

But more than that. He could sense it almost as well as the Qi within him.

"It makes sense. The Qi stored in that chunk has flowed through me. And thanks to our connection, perhaps it never stopped being a part of me. Like some kind of second dantian." Cheng mumbled to himself, confused. This wasn't planned.

The sensation was difficult to describe. The Qi drifting through the air was ambient, yet not fully detached from him.

Cheng opened his eyes and glanced at his palm. And let a huge grin show on his face.

Why?

Because Foundation Establishment was the realm where external Qi control began. Where Qi could be moved outside of one's body, beyond the boundaries of flesh.

It should have been impossible for Cheng to control ambient Qi yet. Foundation establishment, and its changes, brought that capability by pushing the cultivator's senses to a new level.

Cheng was not there. And yet. He could feel the ambient Qi around him.

As he raised a hand slowly, fingers splayed like a conductor hesitating before the first note, he felt the Qi respond.

It was sluggish. No brilliant light, no burst of power.

Just a soft ripple, the kind that might go unnoticed to anyone else. A gentle coalescing of energy that swirled near his fingertips like fog disturbed by breath.

Unrefined. But undeniably real.

Cheng’s brows furrowed in concentration. The act of directing the Qi this way was not smooth or elegant. It was like dragging a soaked cloth through water. Every inch fought him, and the more he pushed, the more resistance he felt.

And still, it moved.

His mind ached within minutes. Not with pain, but with a strange sort of pressure, like overextending a limb that wasn’t used to motion. Or perhaps barely existed at his level.

This was no technique. No scripted art passed down by sect elders, or hidden dragons.

Cheng’s breath deepened, his hands trembling slightly as he held the thread of influence taut. Sweat formed along his brow. But his eyes glinted. Not with fear, but with glee.

This was absolutely not supposed to be possible. This was no part of any manual, no trick passed in whispers between senior disciples and masters.

Hell, Cheng doubted that someone had even stumbled on this being possible, save for some jade emperor's son or daughter, that was born and already wielded ambient Qi.

It was a chain of improbabilities.

Some would call it luck.

And perhaps it was.

But luck is a lot like a door. Only those who prepare a key can step through it.

If Cheng hadn’t spent years carving each measurement of the chamber into memory.

If he hadn’t quintuple checked every line of the array until he could practically draw it in his sleep.

If he hadn’t nurtured the strange bond with the chunk of wood, trusting in something no text acknowledged.

Then this would’ve been nothing but a wasted effort. Or worse, a tomb.

Luck had smiled on him, yes. But only because he had done everything to deserve its grace.

His hand trembled with exuberance, sweat beading on his forehead, as he once again tugged at the ambient qi, trying to just make it cycle on his palm, almost like a small vortex.

And as the ambient Qi around him trembled, like a drop of water falling onto a still lake, the grin on his face widened even more, bordering on madness. From this point, it was certain.

Cheng had ceased being considered a regular cultivator.