Cultivation starts with picking up attributes
Chapter 77: Ch-77: That’s torture

Chapter 77: Ch-77: That’s torture

Lan Yueru scanned the area, her sharp eyes taking in the ruins with cautious precision.

Cracked stone towers loomed in the distance, draped in ivy and the ghostly mist of long-forgotten battles.

Broken banners of long-dead sects fluttered in the stale wind, whispering of the power and glory that once stood tall before being buried in blood and silence.

Tian Shen exhaled, his gaze fixed on the dense fog that rolled across the ridge below them.

The land itself seemed to pulse with war-born resentment, as if the very stones carried memories of slaughter and regret.

From behind them, intermittent flashes of light lit up the withered skyline.

Dozens of Feilun Sect disciples were being teleported in at staggered intervals, their feet hitting cracked rock as they appeared across the ridge.

They bore the robes of the inner court, calm and ready, but even they glanced warily at the desolate battlefield.

The scent of scorched metal lingered in the air, mingled with the faint rust of dried blood. It was an eerie perfume that reeked of forgotten carnage.

A senior logistics disciple, armored in defensive talismans and wearing a thick array of utility belts, approached Tian Shen and Lan Yueru with brisk efficiency. Without a word, he handed them each a jade slip.

"Initial base camp is thirty li southeast of here."

He said curtly.

"The terrain is unstable, especially around the shattered ravines. Move fast, watch your formation. No fires after dusk. You have six hours to get there before the patrols stop running."

Lan Yueru gave a slight nod. Tian Shen accepted his slip and turned it over in his hand.

It shimmered faintly, projecting a translucent map showing several red zones—places to avoid at all costs. He committed the path to memory.

"Six hours," Tian Shen muttered. "Not even enough time to stretch our legs."

Lan Yueru glanced sideways at him. "Would you prefer they held our hands?"

Tian Shen smirked and sheathed the jade slip into his sleeve.

"I’d prefer a flying sword and a dozen tier-five spirit arrays."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You’ll have to make do with me instead."

He laughed.

"Honestly, that’s probably better."

The two set off from the ridge, moving along a crumbling path that descended through broken forest and shattered stone. Around them, groups of disciples cautiously made their way in all directions, each team clinging to their own maps and leaders.

The world of cultivation had trained them for danger, but here—on the Central Battlefield—danger wasn’t lurking in shadows.

It was the shadow. An oppressive weight pressing down from above and rising up from below.

Birds didn’t chirp. No insects buzzed.

Only the soft crunch of gravel under their boots broke the silence.

After a few li, Tian Shen slowed and gestured for them to pause behind a collapsed monument.

An old war totem jutted from the rocks—half-pulverized but still humming faintly with ancient Qi.

"Wait," he whispered.

Lan Yueru stopped without question. Her fingers brushed her sword’s hilt.

Tian Shen knelt and picked up a loose shard of stone. It was smooth—too smooth. He tossed it gently into the air.

*SNAP*

A glimmering blue line shot out from a nearby tree root and wrapped around the stone. It sizzled and then imploded, leaving behind a scorched hole in the dirt.

"Traps," Tian Shen muttered. " Someone’s laid these in advance."

Lan Yueru’s eyes narrowed.

"Other sects? Or rogue disciples?"

He didn’t answer immediately, instead pulling a talisman from his pouch and whispering an incantation.

A faint yellow light enveloped his eyes. Through this lens, faint traces of spiritual energy threads shimmered into view, almost invisible without a detection spell.

"The traps don’t feel fresh."

He said.

"Whoever laid them was here a day or two ago, maybe more. But we can’t rule out ambushes."

Lan Yueru nodded.

"Then we stay sharp."

They moved again, this time slower. Tian Shen led, carefully marking the ground with subtle flicks of his Qi to dispel hidden formations.

Each step forward brought them deeper into the heart of forgotten carnage.

Here and there, skeletons protruded from broken soil—some clad in rusted armor, others fused with their weapons.

They passed the twisted remains of a war beast, its skull crushed beneath a jagged boulder and half-consumed by vines.

Suddenly, the jade slip in Lan Yueru’s robe pulsed red.

"Alert signal!"

She said, pulling it out.

A shimmering glyph hovered above it: Team Three, near Blackflame Hollow.

Tian Shen tapped his own slip, syncing the alert. He frowned.

"Blackflame Hollow’s twenty li west of here. They’re way off the recommended path."

"Think they strayed?"

She asked.

"More like lured."

He said grimly.

They exchanged a glance. The rules prohibited teams from assisting each other unless within visual proximity.

Still, it wasn’t hard to imagine groups using this chaos to settle grudges—or to claim isolated loot.

Tian Shen exhaled.

"Let’s keep going. We’ll help if we come across someone, but we don’t go chasing shadows."

Lan Yueru didn’t argue.

They pressed on, and soon the terrain grew jagged. The trees thinned out, replaced by thick pillars of rock that had been twisted into unnatural shapes.

Here, the earth crackled beneath their feet. Fire Qi lingered in bursts, remnants of ancient destruction spells that still hadn’t fully dissipated.

Suddenly, they heard something.

A faint sound. Like weeping.

Lan Yueru froze.

"Do you hear that?"

Tian Shen nodded. His fingers flicked, drawing a barrier talisman around them as a precaution.

The weeping came from a nearby cleft in the rock.

He crept closer.

There, nestled within the broken stone, was a small altar. A single spirit stone glowed faintly atop it.

But what caught his eye was the figure kneeling in front of it.

A girl.

Or something that looked like one.

Her back was turned, her black hair falling down in tattered waves.

She was weeping into her palms, wearing the faded robes of an ancient sect long extinct.

Lan Yueru whispered.

"That’s not human."

Tian Shen agreed. His senses screamed at him to turn around—but he stepped forward anyway.

As if sensing his approach, the girl stopped crying. Slowly, her hands lowered.

And her head turned.

Her eyes were white, utterly.

Tian Shen didn’t hesitate. He flung a talisman forward, igniting it with fire Qi. It exploded in a burst of blaze.

The girl or whatever screamed—an unnatural, echoing sound—and vanished into a cloud of ash.

"The Sh*t’s about to go wrong."

Lan Yueru commented, stepping beside him.

Tian Shen stared at the ashes.

"We’ll see more of those. And worse."

They continued, but the land only grew stranger. The air turned dense.

Spirit beasts, mutated—mutated with too many eyes or melted forms—watched from the shadows, growling but keeping their distance.

By the time the sun began to sink, a faint golden glow marked the base camp in the distance.

Defensive formations glowed around a ring of stone platforms, each housing a team of cultivators.

Some meditated. Others sharpened blades or counted their gains.

Lan Yueru and Tian Shen approached one of the guards.

After a quick scan of their jade slips, they were waved through.

As they entered, a few inner disciples looked up.

Some nodded respectfully. Others avoided eye contact. Word of Tian Shen’s recent feats had begun to spread.

They found a quiet spot near the rear edge of the camp, shielded by a collapsed wall.

Lan Yueru began setting up a small warded tent while Tian Shen laid out protective formations.

As night descended, silence fell again.

Tian Shen sat by the ward boundary, looking out into the vast shadows.

Lan Yueru, sitting beside him now.

Tian Shen grinned, a little mischievous.

"Enjoying this?"

Lan Yueru simply rolled her eyes, turning away.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow across the ruined land beyond the protective barrier.

Within their small warded shelter, the atmosphere shifted—tension giving way to a quiet calm.

Tian Shen finished adjusting the perimeter runes, their faint glimmer pulsing softly.

"That should hold against minor threats," he said, dusting his hands.

"Not that I’m expecting cuddly spirit beasts to knock on our ward at midnight."

She arched a brow.

"If they do, I’ll let you cuddle them."

He chuckled and flopped down on his own bedroll, arms behind his head.

"I’ll make a terrifying plushie."

She didn’t dignify that with a response, only closed her eyes and began to meditate.

The warmth of the spiritual fire orb he placed in the center of the tent eased the chill.

Outside, distant howls echoed—beasts or something worse—but the wards held firm. Inside, the soft rhythm of Lan Yueru’s breathing mixed with the flickering of firelight.

Tian Shen glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Yueru?"

She didn’t open her eyes.

"Hm?"

"If I start snoring, kick me."

A soft smirk tugged at her lips.

"If you start snoring, I’ll consider stuffing a spirit herb down your throat."

Tian Shen winced.

"That’s practically torture."

"No," she said smugly, "it’s a promise."

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