Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Cultivation Methods

In Shang Jing City Base, a popular restaurant was packed to the doors.

People crowded outside, staring in shock at the woman inside.

She wore a red cheongsam, her figure as striking as her appetite. She shoved food into her mouth in huge bites, utterly shameless.

“That’s Sister Tang!”

“One of the Five Extremes. The Sister Tang they call ‘a crabapple branch crushes pear blossoms’!”

Someone blinked. “Isn’t that backwards?”

A heavy thud shook the restaurant. Sister Tang had one long pale leg propped on a stool. She lifted her head, her sharp, heroic face turning toward the crowd.

“Not backwards,” she said.

The spectators went silent, unsure whether to be offended or impressed that she could still argue mid-meal.

Buzz. Buzz.

Sister Tang answered her phone without looking. “What?”

“Sister Tang, where are you? The Bai family is inviting you to a birthday party. In a bit over half a month, it’ll be Bai Xiao’s twentieth birthday.”

Sister Tang’s chopsticks paused.

“The Odds-Calculator and Bu Qiao are dead,” she snapped. “Zuo Tian is crawling his way up. Humans are about to become war slaves. And they’re throwing a birthday party now?”

The person on the other end hesitated. “So… are you going?”

“I’m going,” Sister Tang said immediately. “I’ll eat Bai Yuan’s daughter-slave into bankruptcy.”

“Uh… and the gift?”

“Cat food.”

There was a stunned silence. “Cat… food?”

Sister Tang hung up.

—

Nan Guo Base, far to the south of Hua Xia.

In a luxurious seaside room, a young man drank red wine with practiced elegance. His gaze was greedy as it roamed over the woman on the bed.

“Beauty,” he murmured, “we can start the attack.”

He lifted the glass and poured the wine slowly over her body.

The liquid slid along curves and down thighs, dripping from her toes. The man’s eyes burned. He lunged forward.

Laughter rang out, light and bell-like.

Then a voice came from outside the door. “Family Head. Shang Jing City’s Bai family invites you to Bai Xiao’s twentieth birthday party.”

The young man barked, “Get lost. Tell me later.”

He didn’t even finish speaking before an irresistible force slammed into him.

He flew backward and crashed into the wall. Blood sprayed. He slid down, choking.

Dazed, he lifted his head.

A pair of jade-white feet stepped into his spreading blood. They came closer, unhurried.

A soft, seductive voice fell into his ear. “Since when do you get to decide for me?”

The foot lifted.

The last thing he saw was the pale sole stained red.

Then it came down.

His head burst.

People filed in—men and women moving with calm efficiency. They cleaned the blood, disposed of the corpse, and draped a thin veil over the woman’s shoulders.

She walked to the window and let the sea wind wash over her skin. “Where is the eldest miss?”

“Already returned from Jin Ling Base,” someone answered. “They offended a guide named Wang Jie. He was the bounty board’s top target, but Hong Jian has already removed it.”

The woman’s lips curved. “Wang Jie?”

She looked out at the sea as if deciding something. “Tell the eldest miss to go to Shang Jing City first. Let her meet up with her old friend.”

Her smile deepened. “I’ll go later.”

“Yes.”

—

A few days later, Wang Jie’s bundle was even bigger.

Wen Zhao offered again to store his load for him. Wang Jie refused. He tried to borrow Xue Ju to carry it instead. Wen Zhao refused again.

Xue Ju, for its part, refused to go near him at all.

This human was a freak.

They returned to Jin Ling Base at night.

Wen Zhao had changed her clothes so she didn’t stand out as sharply, but the veil and the strange, pristine aura still made her look like someone from a different world. In the apocalypse, no one wore veils unless they had a reason.

The moment they arrived, Hong Jian came to find Wang Jie.

“Bai Yuan invited me to Shang Jing City,” Hong Jian said. “For his daughter Bai Xiao’s twentieth birthday party.”

Wang Jie frowned. “You’re going? Then the other bases’ Three Gods and Five Extremes will be there too.”

“Most likely,” Hong Jian said. “The birthday is incidental. The real reason is the Shang Jing City assembly. We don’t know how many trialists will show up united. We can’t go with too few top experts.”

He hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Did you find out who the strongest trialist in the first batch is?”

Wang Jie’s mind flashed to Wen Zhao claiming it was herself.

He didn’t speak that truth. “She doesn’t know.”

Hong Jian sighed. “If we don’t know them, we have no advantage. Right now we’re transparent, and they’re a black box.”

Then his expression shifted. “Also—Shou Qing Group contacted you. They said to reply when you can.”

Wang Jie’s eyes lit. He followed Hong Jian immediately.

External communications were in Hong Jian’s hands. Most channels had been destroyed long ago; mutant plants and beasts had torn apart towers, lines, roads. Keeping even one functioning route cost lives—when equipment failed, experts had to go into the wild to repair it.

Compared to that, flying from Jin Ling to Shang Jing City was almost simple.

Modify a peacetime plane, build it from tougher materials, make it smaller and faster, and smear it with the dung of a powerful mutant beast to avoid being tracked by scent.

“Hello,” Wang Jie said into the device.

“Is this Wang Jie?” a voice asked.

“It’s me.”

A brief pause.

Then a familiar voice, rough and somehow cheerful, hit his ears. “Old Boss.”

Wang Jie closed his eyes.

He’d woken up.

After two years—after the failure, after the deaths and injuries—another brother had finally come back.

“Old Boss,” the voice said, louder now, as if forcing the world to acknowledge it. “I’m awake.”

Wang Jie’s throat tightened. “Good. As long as you’re awake.”

The voice surged with excitement. “Wang Jie, I’m officially informing you: from this moment on, your best-looking, most handsome, most loaded brother is awake!”

He laughed wildly. “From this moment—let me check—21:17. From 21:17 onward, you’re rich. Very, very, very rich.”

“Did you hear me?” he demanded. “Wang Jie, you’re very rich now!”

Wang Jie laughed, the sound rough with something he didn’t want to name. “Then I’ll officially inform you too, Qing Old Two.”

He leaned back, eyes closing again. “Your Old Boss is invincible now. Very, very, very strong. The kind no one can stop.”

Qing Old Two laughed even harder. “Old Boss, I remember you said that two years ago too!”

Wang Jie laughed with him, and something heavy finally loosened in his chest. “Things are different now. I’m going to kill Zuo Tian.”

Qing Old Two’s voice snapped sharp. “When? Now? We leave immediately?”

“Soon,” Wang Jie said. “Shang Jing City.”

“Good,” Qing Old Two said, fierce and delighted. “Good.”

—

To reach Shang Jing City, they had to take Jin Ling Base’s aircraft.

It had been modified into a sharp triangular shape, smaller and faster, built from hard materials, easier to camouflage in the sky.

Wang Jie said goodbye to Si Yan first. Before leaving, he handed Si Yan a generous share of disaster materials. Si Yan nearly glowed with joy.

Then Wang Jie brought Old Five, Old Nine, and Wen Zhao to Xuan Lake.

Xue Ju was too big to fit. It stayed behind.

The ground trembled. The aircraft lifted off, slicing into the night and vanishing into the dark.

Hong Jian watched it go.

Then he turned his gaze to another “gift” Wang Jie had left behind.

Yan Si.

The same Yan Si who had fled Jin Ling.

During those ten days of hunting, Wang Jie and Wen Zhao had run into him. Wang Jie tied him up and dragged him back. Yan Si was a danger—especially if Hong Jian left for Shang Jing City. Yan Si could seize control of Jin Ling Base.

Because Feng Yu and Yan Si had been involved.

Wang Jie had told Hong Jian that, too.

No matter what happened, Jin Ling was Wang Jie’s birthplace. He would protect it as far as he could.

What Hong Jian extracted from Yan Si—information, leverage, anything—was up to him.

As for Wen Zhao… she really was comparatively kind.

She hadn’t killed Yan Si. She hadn’t slaughtered Jin Ling Base. She’d simply come, tested, and left.

—

Inside the aircraft, Wen Zhao sat with perfect calm, staring out the window at the night.

Old Five couldn’t help himself. “So you trialists come from a tech civilization?”

“No,” Wen Zhao said.

Old Five blinked. “Then why aren’t you even curious about this aircraft?”

“Because our movement methods are faster,” Wen Zhao replied. “Interstellar travel.”

Old Five frowned. “That still sounds like tech.”

“It’s cultivation,” Wen Zhao said, as if that ended the argument.

If there were no interference, flying from Jin Ling to Shang Jing City would take at most an hour. But bases rarely used those routes. Fly too often, and something in the sky would notice.

Mutant beasts.

So base-to-base flights were reserved for emergencies and high-level permissions.

This trip went smoothly.

More than half an hour passed without incident.

Then Wang Jie’s expression changed.

He sat up slightly, as if remembering something terrible. “Ah.”

Old Five looked over. “What?”

Wang Jie’s mouth tightened. “I forgot. It’s time.”

“What time?” Old Five asked, suspicious.

Wang Jie stood up.

The aircraft was small. But it wasn’t too small for what he did next.

Right in front of Wen Zhao, Old Five, Old Nine, and the pilot, Wang Jie started doing calisthenics.

“One, two, three, four. Two, two, three, four…”

Silence filled the cabin.

Everyone stared at him like reality had cracked.

Wang Jie’s ears went hot, but he kept his face calm and finished before sitting down again.

Old Five coughed. “Old Boss… since when is this your hobby?”

“Training,” Wang Jie said, deadpan. “Also losing weight.”

Old Five blinked, then looked helplessly at Old Nine.

Old Nine coughed too. “Stress relief. Not bad.”

Wang Jie leaned back, looking even calmer now—as if the more normal he acted, the more insane everyone else had to feel.

Wen Zhao spoke suddenly. “If you dare break through, I’ll announce it to everyone.”

Wang Jie turned his head. “I’m just doing calisthenics.”

“You’re cultivating,” Wen Zhao said, absolutely certain.

Wang Jie lifted a brow. “I didn’t even absorb Imprint Power.”

Wen Zhao’s gaze stayed fixed forward. “Absorbing Imprint Power is a low-grade cultivation method. I don’t know where you learned it, and I can’t even understand what those movements mean…”

She paused.

“…but I can feel it. It is cultivation.”

Her voice cooled. “So don’t break through. Not unless you’re ready to carry the curse of all Blue Star.”

Old Nine leaned forward. “Then what’s the high-grade cultivation method?”

Old Five jumped in too. “Yeah, beauty. Tell us.”

Wen Zhao didn’t answer. She only looked at Wang Jie—long, heavy, unreadable—and then turned away.

Wang Jie let his body relax against the seat.

She wasn’t wrong.

He was at the edge.

If he wanted, he could step into Eighth Seal at any moment.

He didn’t need to absorb outside Imprint Power or disaster materials at all.

And once he broke through, the cost of Heaven-and-Earth Luo Xuan Finger wouldn’t be so unbearable.

In the distance, a massive silhouette rose out of the dark.

Shang Jing City Base.

Like Jin Ling, it had walls built to hold back the wilderness—but the scale was different. Bigger. Heavier. More imposing.

The aircraft circled and landed at the southwest corner.

Wang Jie and the others disembarked, reported identities, and were checked—ensuring they weren’t wanted criminals.

They weren’t allowed into the base immediately.

They were taken to a designated holding area to wait for approval—because Wen Zhao was a trialist.