Cultivation starts with picking up attributes
Chapter 90: Ch-90: Do you like sadists?

Chapter 90: Ch-90: Do you like sadists?

The next morning began with dread.

A dread so deep, Tian Shen woke up an hour before dawn just to worry in advance.

He sat on his dorm bed, staring at the ceiling, questioning all his life decisions.

Beside him, Drowsy snored softly, little divine sparkles coming out of her beak.

On the other bunk, Feng Yin cultivated like the cultivation goddess she was—calm, serene, and blessedly unaware of the doom that awaited him.

Tian Shen whispered into the darkness.

"Maybe she’ll forget."

Drowsy opened one eye.

"She won’t, will she?"

"Chirp~"

"Yeah. Figured."

He dressed like a man condemned, making sure his robes were tightly fastened.

If Elder Su was going to beat him up, he’d at least like to remain dignified.

...

He arrived at the sect’s secluded training field on the eastern ridge—a place used for ’personal’ instruction.

Which, in Tian Shen’s mind, translated to ’where you can scream and no one will hear.’

The morning mist still clung to the grass like ghostly threads. Birds chirped. Everything was perfect.

Too perfect.

Which made the figure waiting in the center infinitely more terrifying.

Elder Su stood there, arms behind her back, dressed in simple but sharp sparring robes.

Her hair was tied up into a single high knot, revealing the cool curve of her neck. Her eyes gleamed like cold moonlight. Beautiful, elegant...

Lethal.

"You’re late," she said.

"I’m five minutes early," Tian Shen protested.

"You should’ve arrived five minutes before that."

Tian Shen sighed.

"Yes, Master."

She nodded, satisfied.

"Today, we work on your real weakness."

"My real weakness?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Which of your many would you like to begin with?"

He gave her a flat look.

"The kind that doesn’t involve injury?"

"Too bad, this ain’t gonna be that."

...

They began with stances.

"Your battle tactic is weak," she said, kicking his shin gently. "Your balance is like a drunk duck."

"I was trying to be fluid!"

"Are you trying to impersonate Soup?"

Then footwork on the ’OG’ thin bamboo sticks.

"Step, pivot, strike."

Tian Shen tried. Slipped. Almost got pecked by a bamboo. But unfortunately landed with his butt to ground.

Elder Su didn’t flinch.

"Again."

He got up, wiping grass from his face.

"Master Su, respectfully, I think my style is more... improvisational."

She gave him a look.

"Your style is wrong."

Then, without warning, she vanished.

VWOOM.

Tian Shen barely blinked—and she was behind him.

She flicked a single finger to the back of his knee.

He collapsed.

"Here, You’re dead."

She said mildly.

"That’s cheating!"

She crouched beside him, her tone almost amused.

"That’s cultivation."

He lay on the ground, groaning.

"I don’t think I like being cultivated as a sandbag."

"Oh? Would you prefer if I were gentler?"

She leaned down slightly.

"Would you like a softer punishment, disciple?"

Tian Shen froze. His face went red.

"I-I—N-no, Master!"

A smile. Just a hint of one.

"Good answer."

She stood again.

"Now fight me."

"W-what?!"

"Attack me. Use everything you have. Talismans, swordplay, spells. Go."

He blinked.

"Right now?"

"Do you see anyone else here?"

He swallowed.

"Okay, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you!"

He leapt back, pulling out two talismans, infusing them with Qi in one practiced motion. They flashed gold.

"Flame Chain!"

He shouted like an idiot.

Twin streaks of fire raced across the field, coiling like serpents toward her.

Elder Su didn’t even flinch.

Her palm rose—graceful, slow—and she sliced the talismans apart with a single, blinding arc of wind.

The flames shattered. Tian Shen’s eyes widened.

"That was a 4-Star Talisman!"

"Why Shout out loud and give the vital info to the enemy that suggest what type of fool you are?"

She sniffed.

Before he could blink again, she was in front of him.

He raised his arm to block—

She grabbed his wrist, spun, and threw him.

Tian Shen hit the ground like a ragdoll.

Thud.

"I felt that," he groaned.

"Good," she said.

"At least you’ll remember it."

...

The next hour blurred into pain.

There was a moment where Tian Shen tried to flee behind a boulder. She kicked it, and it exploded.

There was another where he threw every talisman in his pouch at once.

She caught them midair and threw them back.

At one point, he even tried pleading.

"I’m very emotionally fragile, you know!"

Elder Su smirked.

"Then I’m doing you a favor. Emotional fortitude is key in battle."

"That’s not how emotions work!"

Still, beneath the bruises and complaints, something began to... shift.

His blocks became smoother. His stance steadier. He started predicting her feints—getting grazed instead of crushed.

And when he launched a Wind-imbued sword strike with his left hand to fake, then followed with a Qi-charged sweep with his right—

She blocked it.

But she gave a faint, approving nod.

"Better."

Tian Shen collapsed to his knees, panting.

"That’s all I wanted. That one word. I can die now."

"You may not yet," she said, turning away.

"Again tomorrow, same time."

He flopped backward onto the grass.

"...I hate my life."

She turned back slightly, tone lighter.

"You’ll thank me someday."

"Not if I’m dead."

"Especially if you’re dead. You’ll be grateful you learned."

He groaned.

But beneath the suffering, pride surged.

He hadn’t run.

He hadn’t quit.

And she—Elder Su—who had called him a fool, was now taking him seriously enough to train.

Somewhere in the grass, Drowsy peeked from behind a bush, chirped once, and waddled over to peck his forehead.

"I’m fine."

He muttered to her.

"Just emotionally shattered."

She blinked.

Then pecked again.

...

Later that afternoon, back in the courtyard.

Feng Yin dabbed ointment on his bruises.

"You fought her?"

"She said fight or fight."

Tian Shen mumbled through a rice bun.

"And?"

"I failed. Then slightly improved. Then died. Then improved again."

"She sounds tough."

"She’s scary."

"...But You’re smiling."

Tian Shen blinked. He was.

"Oh no."

Feng Yin chuckled.

"Stockholm Syndrome."

"Shut up."

From the other side, Little Mei piped in.

"She’s hot though, I’ll-step-on-you kind of way."

Tian Shen coughed.

"Don’t say things like that!"

Drowsy chirped like she agreed.

Then looked between Tian Shen and Elder Su’s direction, then back.

"Oh no," Tian Shen said again.

"Don’t you dare think that thought."

Drowsy blinked innocently.

Feng Yin smirked.

"You like sadistic women?"

"I like alive. I like not dying."

"And maybe a little ’discipline’?"

Little Mei added.

Tian Shen covered his face with his sleeve.

"Someone help me. Please."

But no one did.

They just laughed.

And in the distance—beneath the peach blossoms—Elder Su stood atop a boulder, gazing down at the training field, a quiet smirk on her lips.

She spoke softly to herself.

"He’ll learn."

Not like she cared or anything, she just want to know what secrets he hold.

But maybe, just maybe, she was starting to enjoy this fool’s company more than expected.

...

The moon rose gently over the horizon, casting soft silver light across the sect’s courtyard.

Lanterns flickered to life one by one, painting the cobblestone paths in amber hues.

Tian Shen, after recovering from his first real "training," now lay sprawled across a bamboo bench with an ice pack on his forehead and an expression of existential dread.

Feng Yin sat nearby, delicately reading a scroll, her expression placid as ever. Little Mei was perched on the railing, swinging her legs and humming a strange, off-beat song that may or may not have been about exploding pastries. Drowsy napped on Tian Shen’s chest like she owned the place.

"...I think she cracked my spine."

Tian Shen mumbled.

"That’s good," Little Mei chirped. "Now you’re elastic."

"I don’t want to be elastic (flexible). I just want to be alive."

Feng Yin glanced at him, a faint smile at the corner of her lips.

"You’re well and kicking."

"Great. Thanks for the encouragement, Saint Yin."

"I’m not a saint, I am the queen, Your queen."

"You are when I compare you to Elder Su."

Feng Yin raised a brow.

"You mean the woman who just kicked your ass while being beautiful and composed the entire time?"

Tian Shen groaned.

"I don’t need this betrayal from you too."

Little Mei giggled.

"You’re so into her."

"I’m into not being kicked in the spleen, thank you!"

Yet, he didn’t deny it.

There was something about Elder Su—something beyond the terrifying precision of her attacks or the death-glares she wielded like divine artifacts. Something graceful. Stern. Unyielding.

And weirdly attractive in a please-don’t-hurt-me-but-also-maybe-do kind of way.

Tian Shen turned toward the stars.

"...I might be doomed."

Feng Yin didn’t even look up.

"You’ve always been doomed."

Little Mei leaned closer, her eyes sparkling.

"Do you think she’d let you call her Mistress?"

Tian Shen choked on his own saliva.

"STOP TALKING!"

But it was far too late. The words had been spoken. The mental image had been burned into his brain like a cursed brand.

Drowsy opened one eye, blinked twice, then gave a low chirp that sounded uncomfortably approving.

"Oh gods, even you?"

Tian Shen pointed weakly at her.

"Et tu, birdie?"

Feng Yin closed her scroll with a snap, standing up.

"We should sleep. Tomorrow’s another day of pain."

"For you, maybe."

Tian Shen muttered.

"I’ll be lucky if I come back with all my limbs."

She offered him a hand.

"You’ll survive. If not, I’ll steal all your talismans and pretend you never existed."

He accepted the hand with a groan.

"Touching. Truly."

Little Mei leapt down and skipped ahead.

"Last one to the dorms is a steamed bun!"

"You ate a steamed bun with my name on it this morning."

Tian Shen grumbled as he followed.

"I liberated it!"

Their laughter echoed softly through the night, a fragile contrast to the brutal dawn awaiting him.

And atop the eastern boulder once again, hidden in the shadows of moonlight, Elder Su watched them walk away—arms folded, expression unreadable.

Her lips moved just slightly.

Then she turned, robes swaying like falling petals.

Tomorrow, she would push him harder.

But tonight, she let the thought linger—of a foolish disciple with divine luck, decent talent... and eyes that refused to quit.