Life as a Rogue Cultivator

Chapter 307:

A great river stretched across his path. It was about a hundred feet wide, the current raging and churning with rolling whirlpools.Liu Xiaolou chopped down a bamboo pole as thick as his fist. He tucked it under his arm and launched himself toward the middle of the river. Once there, he threw the bamboo onto the water. He dropped down after it, touched it lightly with his toes, took a quick breath, and jumped again. This time landing right on the far bank.

He cast a satisfied look back at the broad sweep of river he’d left behind, pride curling warm in his gut. If he kept cultivating like this, maybe he would not even need a bamboo pole anymore. Walking straight across the water. How free that would feel.

The terrain along the journey changed constantly. one moment he was scrambling up steep mountainsides, the next threading his way through deep ravines. Sometimes he had to cross nameless streams and raging currents of all sizes. Other times, he forced a path through dense forest.

White Lotus Gully, the Lei River, Sifang Mountain, Flying Sky Mountain. As he crossed mountains and valleys, he was also testing his Foundation Establishment techniques at every step, getting a real feel for the massive boost in power that came with his breakthrough.

That day, a flat stretch of land appeared at the foot of the mountains ahead. Crisscrossed with paths, it held over a hundred acres of rich, fertile fields. Tucked along the mountain base was a manor, with dozens of fine houses and grand homes. By the standards of these rugged Lingnan mountains, it was clearly a wealthy estate.

Liu Xiaolou figured he'd just skirt around the place. But as he reached the foot of the mountain, a burly brute stepped right into his path and blocked the way.

The man's shirt was open, showing off thick clumps of black chest hair. He carried a shoulder pole across his back and pointed at Liu Xiaolou, barking, “Hold it right there!”

Being held up for a robbery?

Generally speaking, bandits who blocked the road were not very skilled cultivators. High-level cultivators had neither the time nor the interest for that kind of thing. The thought made him smile. It had been a long time since he had run into a highway robber. He almost felt nostalgic.

The hairy brute shouted again, “What sect are you from? Where did you cultivate? Speak up and tell the truth!”

Liu Xiaolou answered with a smile. “I come from Mount Wu. I am the head of the Xuanyuan Sect of Bazhong.”

The hairy brute frowned and thought for a moment. “Xuanyuan Sect? Never heard of it…”

Suddenly, he struck the shoulder pole against a nearby tree trunk. An old man quickly emerged from the woods. “What’s going on?”

Liu Xiaolou’s eyebrow twitched, a flicker of alarm rising in his chest. The old man had been lurking in the woods and appeared out of nowhere. He could not have been more than thirty feet away, yet Liu Xiaolou had sensed nothing at all. Either the man was at the Foundation Establishment stage, or he possessed some special concealment technique.

That pretty much ruled out them being plain old bandits.

The hairy man said, “Old Uncle, have you heard of the Xuanyuan Sect? The Xuanyuan Sect from Bazhong?”

The old man shook his head. “Never heard of it.” He then looked Liu Xiaolou up and down. “Which blessed land is your home based in? And which major sect do you answer to?”

Liu Xiaolou asked, “So are you two highway bandits, or…?”

“Bandits, my ass!” the burly man shouted. “We’re from the Maling Sect. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of us. Where do you think you’re going?”

Liu Xiaolou clasped his hands. “So you’re fellow cultivators from Mount Maling, one of Lingnan’s great sects. My apologies for the misunderstanding. I came from the west and was planning to head to Mount Luofu.”

The Maling Sect was one of the orthodox powers, occupying the blessed land of Mount Maling. In Lingnan, its standing was on par with the Zhanglong Sect and the Dongyang Sect of western Xian.

The burly man sneered. “Since you've shown up here, consider yourself lucky. As of today, you're drafted into the Maling Sect. Come with us quietly! Play nice and serve well, and there'll be rewards for you after the fighting's done. But if you even think about running... well, a rogue cultivator from Bazhong like you ought to know the rules. You'll end up dead, cultivation scattered to the winds. No room for debate.”

Liu Xiaolou froze for a moment, then let out a bitter smile. His luck was getting terrible again. Of all things, he had run into a major sect forcibly drafting rogue cultivators.

“Excuse me, but which sect are you clashing with?”

“The Qingyuan Sect. Don’t worry about it. Qingyuan can’t beat my family,” the brute said, waving his hand with total confidence.

The old man who came out of the woods was nothing like him. Where the brute was loud and carefree, this one was cautious and guarded. “Kid, you say you’re from the Xuanyuan Sect in Bazhong. Do you have any proof of that? And this Xuanyuan Sect of yours, which larger sect do you answer to?”

Before Liu Xiaolou could reply, the old man added a warning. “Don’t run your mouth. Think carefully before you speak. Say the wrong thing, and we’ll charge you as a spy, cut off your head, and send it to those people at Mount Qingyuan. Let them come and identify you themselves.”

Left with no choice, Liu Xiaolou did his best to imitate a Bazhong accent. “I’m from Bazhong, ain’t I? What kind of proof you want? There isn’t any… As for who we’re affiliated with, I guess it’d be the Pingdu Eight Formations Gate.”

Western Xian bordered Badong and Bazhong, and their accents were about seventy or eighty percent the same. Liu Xiaolou already sounded convincing to begin with, and even if he didn’t, these two cultivators from Lingnan wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference anyway.

The burly man looked at the old man. “Old Uncle?”

The old man nodded slightly. “The accent sounds right… take him.”

“Come with me,” The big man said. “We’re heading into the estate. See it? That manor is a side residence of our Mount Maling. Everyone’s gathering there first, then we head south to take on those Qingyuan dogs. Don’t worry. Once we win, all the spoils go to the individuals who earned them. If our sect master is pleased, he’ll even hand out silver, or maybe spirit stones, based on your cultivation level. So what level are you at?”

Liu Xiaolou didn’t move an inch. His eyes flicked toward the manor, then swept the area around them. “I’m at Foundation Establishment… Is it just you two here?”

The burly man barked, “Move it! Hurry up… What?” Then it hit him, and he burst out laughing. “You’re Foundation Establishment? Hah! Ha ha!”

He was laughing, but slowly his laughter faded as he saw that his Old Uncle had collapsed to the ground. He hadn’t even seen how the other guy made his move. Just a blink, and that was it…

His Old Uncle was at the tenth layer of Qi Refinement!

That’s two layer higher than him!

He took down someone that strong with a single blink?

He turned to run, but a force yanked him back. The strength was so overwhelming he couldn’t fight it off. He tried to swing his staff to fight back, but his arms felt like they were made of jelly. He couldn’t lift it no matter how hard he tried. His legs buckled, and he ended up sitting down hard on the ground.

“Are you really a Foundation Establishment senior?” the big man gasped, sprawled flat on his back, eyes bulging wide.

Liu Xiaolou reached out, pulling a small satchel off the old man. He opened it and found five spirit stones, a bottle of pills for restoring qi, two plasters that gave off a sharp, spicy smell, and a few taels of loose silver. It wasn’t much, and he felt a little disappointed.

As for the brute, he wasn't carrying a damn thing on him.

Then he chuckled wryly at himself, shaking his head. His expectations were getting too high, and that wasn’t a good thing.

The only thing of real value on them were two magical tools. The old man carried a flying sickle, a low-grade mid-tier artifact. Maybe worth about twenty or 30 spirit stones. The big man’s staff, on the other hand, was a high-grade low-tier weapon, probably could fetch around 10 spirit stones or so... depending on who you sold it to and how you went about it.

Liu Xiaolou scratched his head and stuffed everything into his Qiankun Pouch. He was already consciously preparing for the future growth of his sect. Like they say, a skyscraper starts with a solid foundation. Every spirit stone. Every pill. Every plaster, and every magical tool was the foundation for the future of the Sanxuan Sect. A hundred years from now, when he looked back, all of this would be the deep roots of the sect!

Liu Xiaolou looked at the two men lying on the ground. He was definitely not going to kill them. Killing disciples from powerful, well-known sects would only mean making a huge enemy.

After all, he was a Foundation Establishment cultivator. Getting hassled by these two blind idiots and giving them nothing more than a light smack-down was already showing restraint. Even if Mount Maling came knocking later, he would still have a solid case.

“You blind idiots! Out of respect for you being disciples of a prestigious sect, I won't punish you too harshly. In four hours, your true qi will recover. So next time, open those damn eyes wider and see clearly who you're dealing with. If you're not happy about it, tell your elders to come find me in Bazhong.”

The brute was heaving like an ox, clearly unwilling to bow his head. But the old man had seen too much in his life and understood the situation at once. He immediately lowered his head and backed down. “Thank you, senior…”

Liu Xiaolou nodded and walked off without looking back.

T/N: just a heads-up in case. i’ve got an important exam coming up on the 2nd of next month, so I’ll be spending some time preparing for it. if you notice fewer updates over the next week, that’s why