017 My Cult [Part 1]

  "NEEEEE CHEEEN! STOP SWINGING YOUR DAMN SWORD AND EAT!"

  "Y-yes… YES, MA'AM!"

  Nee Chen flinched, hastily lowering his sword. Sweat dripped from his brow as he turned toward the small campfire where Xiang Ya was glaring at him, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently against the dirt.

  Lu Gao sat nearby, gnawing on a roasted fish, completely unbothered by the exchange.

  It had been a week since the tragic annihilation of One Well Village.

  Now, the three of them—Nee Chen, Xiang Ya, and Lu Gao—were making camp beside a river, their destination uncertain. They had no home to return to, and staying in the ruins of One Well Village was not an option. The lingering death qi from the massacre poisoned the air, making it dangerous to remain there for too long. Even if it hadn't, the memories alone were too painful to bear.

  They had no choice but to move forward.

  But for now, they rested.

  Nee Chen wiped his forehead, his arms sore from hours of sword practice. Ever since the tragedy, he had taken his first steps into cultivation. The mysterious old man who had saved him had given him a glimpse into a new path—a path where he wouldn't have to feel so powerless ever again.

  He was still weak. He knew that.

  That was why he needed to keep training.

  However, Xiang Ya was not about to let him skip meals for it.

  With a reluctant sigh, he sheathed his sword and walked toward the fire. Xiang Ya handed him a roasted fish, still giving him a disapproving look.

  "You won’t get stronger if you collapse from exhaustion, you idiot," she scolded.

  "I know, I know," Nee Chen muttered, taking a bite of the fish. The warmth of the food filled his stomach, and despite his exhaustion, he felt a little better.

  Lu Gao swallowed a mouthful of fish and grinned. "So, when are we heading out? We can’t just sit here forever."

  Xiang Ya’s expression turned serious. "We should decide soon. We need a real plan."

  Nee Chen nodded. They had survived the massacre, but survival alone wasn’t enough.

  They needed a purpose.

  They needed a destination.

  And above all… they needed strength.

  ***

  **

  *

  A week ago, an old man arrived at One Well Village, carrying the severed head of Zha Dong. The head was nearly unrecognizable, battered and bloodied beyond repair, yet Nee Chen knew exactly who it belonged to. The old man said little, only offering a few simple words:

  "I have taken vengeance in your stead."

  Then, without another word, he placed Zha Dong’s head on a pike at the village entrance, a grim display meant for Nee Chen and the people who had suffered at the demonic cultivator’s hands.

  Nee Chen stared at the gruesome sight, feeling a strange mix of emotions.

  Relief. That monster was dead. He would never hurt anyone again.

  Disappointment. That monster was dead… and Nee Chen wasn’t the one who had killed him.

  His fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms. He should have been the one to do it. He should have been the one to avenge the village. And yet, before he could even begin his journey toward strength, the deed had already been done.

  Still, the fact remained: Zha Dong was gone. That meant no one would come after him, Xiang Ya, or Lu Gao anymore. They were safe.

  Nee Chen let out a breath, forcing himself to bow low. "Thank you, Immortal…" He kowtowed, pressing his forehead to the dirt in gratitude.

  But instead of dignified acceptance, he was met with an amused scoff.

  "Immortal? I am far from it." The old man looked almost embarrassed by the title. "I am just an old man."

  Nee Chen lifted his head, watching in quiet curiosity as the old man turned his attention to Xiang Ya. With a simple wave of his hand, a warm, unseen force surrounded her, and her wounds began to mend. Nee Chen held his breath, awe filling his chest at the effortless display of power.

  Then, the old man looked back at him.

  "You have stepped onto the 1st stage of the Four Earthly Attributes. As of now, you are a cultivator at the Martial Tempering realm," the old man said. "I trust that you will not abuse your power or be blinded by revenge."

  Nee Chen froze.

  He had become… a cultivator?

  His mind struggled to grasp the reality of it. Ever since that night, he had felt something different inside him—a strange energy, a strength he had never known before. But he hadn't dared to think it was cultivation. He hadn't even considered the possibility.

  The old man continued, his voice calm yet firm. "If you desire power, come to Desolate Cave Mountain to see me."

  Nee Chen looked up, feeling the weight of those words settle on his heart.

  "If you can find it in your heart to defy fate," the old man added, his figure already beginning to fade, "join my Sect. No. Join my Cult."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  And just like that, he vanished.

  The wind carried his final words, leaving only an eerie silence in his wake.

  Shortly after, Xiang Ya stirred awake.

  Nee Chen immediately pushed aside the storm of thoughts in his mind. Right now, there was something more important than pondering the old man’s invitation.

  Survival.

  He had to make sure Xiang Ya and Lu Gao were safe. That was his first priority.

  The village was no longer a place they could stay. The death qi from the massacre still lingered, thick and suffocating, and something deep inside him told him that remaining here would only lead to more disaster.

  He knew it in his gut.

  Nee Chen had considered staying long enough to bury the dead, but ultimately, he made the painful decision to leave. The kingdom's officials would arrive sooner or later. They would handle the dead. The best thing he could do now was to ensure the living could move forward.

  Still, he couldn't just leave without saying anything.

  He took a piece of parchment, quickly scribbled a message, and placed it inside a pigeon carrier. He whispered a silent prayer before releasing the pigeon into the sky, watching as it disappeared into the horizon.

  That was the last duty he would fulfill for One Well Village.

  With that, Nee Chen turned away from the ruins of his home and carried Xiang Ya and Lu Gao away, leading them to the riverside where they could rest.

  Their journey had just begun.

  Nee Chen recalled the memories as if they had happened just yesterday. The arrival of the old man, the severed head of Zha Dong, the promise of power at Desolate Cave Mountain—it all felt so vivid.

  But time had moved forward, and so had they.

  ***

  **

  *

  The sun had long set, and the night had claimed the sky. The gentle crackling of a bonfire greeted him as he stepped back into their small campsite by the river. Xiang Ya was carefully roasting fish skewered on sticks over the flames, her face calm yet distant.

  "Hmmm… That smells nice," Nee Chen hummed as he sat beside Lu Gao. His stomach growled in response to the scent. "Miss Xiang Ya, thank you for the food!"

  Xiang Ya only gave a small nod, her expression unreadable.

  Nee Chen took a fish and began eating. He never let go of his sword, keeping it within reach at all times. The fish lacked salt, but it was warm, fresh, and filling—more than enough for a meal. He couldn’t afford to be picky. After all, they had survived a tragedy.

  "Umuu… Just eat your fill," Xiang Ya encouraged softly.

  She nibbled at her own food absentmindedly, her eyelids drooping. Whether it was from exhaustion, sleeping on the cold, damp ground, or the emotional weight of their ordeal, she couldn’t tell. There was a heaviness in her chest—anger, sadness, and fear tangled together into something suffocating.

  Lu Gao, however, barely touched his food. He stared down at it, silent and still. He had taken only a few bites, yet he showed no sign of continuing.

  Nee Chen frowned. The kid needed to eat. They all did.

  "Little Gao, eat… I caught those fish with my bare hands. Do you know how difficult that was?" Nee Chen tried to lighten the mood, nudging the boy. "Come on. Eat."

  Lu Gao remained quiet, his gaze locked on the charred fish in his hands.

  Nee Chen sighed and tried again, this time with a firmer tone. "Lu Gao, eat. You will need the strength."

  But the boy didn’t move. His hands clenched into trembling fists.

  "Big bro…" Lu Gao’s voice cracked. "I… I couldn't."

  Guilt, remorse, and despair swirled in his eyes. His small body trembled as his emotions finally broke free.

  "I'd rather die!"

  The words barely left his lips before—

  SLAP!

  A sharp sound echoed through the campsite.

  Xiang Ya’s hand trembled as she lowered it. Tears welled in her eyes, but her voice was firm.

  "Die? Why? Do you think living is that easy, you brat!?"

  Lu Gao clutched his cheek, wide-eyed, but didn’t protest. He knew she wasn’t just angry—she was hurting too.

  Xiang Ya wiped at her face, swallowing the lump in her throat. "No matter how painful it is, we have to live. You have to live." She exhaled shakily before pressing on. "For the sake of those who died."

  Lu Gao’s lip trembled, but he remained silent.

  Xiang Ya knelt beside him, her voice softer now. "Listen, Lu Gao. What do you think your mother would want you to do after all that?"

  The boy didn’t answer.

  "She would want you to live," Xiang Ya whispered. "I want you to live."

  She turned suddenly toward Nee Chen, her eyes burning with an intensity he hadn’t seen before.

  "And you, Nee Chen!?"

  "H-huh?" He blinked in surprise. "Umm… What was it?"

  Xiang Ya took a deep breath. "When are we going to Desolate Cave Mountain?"

  Nee Chen tensed.

  "It’s been a week already," she pressed on. "Instead of sitting here being sad and miserable, I’d rather find a way to get the vengeance we deserve."

  Her words hit him harder than expected.

  She knew.

  Nee Chen had thought she had been unconscious the entire time, but it seemed she had been semi-aware of the events that unfolded. She had heard the old man’s words.

  His hands clenched.

  The truth was, he had planned to bring them along to Desolate Cave Mountain. He believed they could find safety—and maybe even strength—under the old man’s guidance. But now, doubt crept into his mind.

  Was it right for Xiang Ya to pursue cultivation for the sake of revenge?

  Nee Chen recalled the old man’s warning: Do not abuse your power, and do not be blinded by revenge.

  He glanced at Xiang Ya, at the fierce determination in her eyes, and then at Lu Gao, who was still struggling to find a reason to move forward.

  Was he leading them down the right path? Or into another tragedy?

  "You don’t have to come with me. I am enough."

  Nee Chen’s grip tightened around his sword. His voice was resolute, but his heart wavered. Even though Zha Dong was already dead, it wasn’t over. That man had boasted about his Sect, the Bones Devouring Sect—a den of wickedness that had been responsible, by extension, for the annihilation of One Well Village.

  He couldn't let it go.

  "I would request the old immortal to shelter us," Nee Chen continued, his eyes cast toward the river’s rippling surface, "but we shouldn’t ask more from him."

  Nee Chen had stepped onto the path of cultivation. He was now at the 1st stage of the Four Earthly Attributes—Martial Tempering. That alone qualified him to join a Sect, and unlike most wandering cultivators, he had been invited to join the mysterious old man’s Sect.

  But Xiang Ya and Lu Gao were different. They were mortals. If the old man refused them, what then?

  Nee Chen had already decided. He would do this alone.

  Xiang Ya didn’t like what she was hearing.

  "You shouldn’t stop me," she said, her voice firm. "I’d come whether you like it or not. This isn’t just your revenge."

  Her eyes blazed with conviction—no, hatred.

  Nee Chen hesitated. Xiang Ya had always been the most beautiful flower of the village, delicate yet kind. But now, there was a tenacity in her he had never seen before, a will as sharp as a honed blade.

  "He said…" Xiang Ya swallowed, her voice growing softer, "he could give us power… So, Chen… Please…"

  Her misty eyes pleaded with him, but Nee Chen could only grit his teeth in response.

  "The old man said not to be blinded by revenge," Nee Chen countered. "He has already avenged us! What more do you want?"

  "It’s not enough!" Xiang Ya snapped, stepping closer, her fists clenched. "I have to do it! There’s still that demonic cultivator’s Sect he boasted about! I can’t rest knowing such wicked people still exist!"

  Her voice carried raw emotion—anger, grief, and an unwavering resolve.

  Nee Chen shook his head. "Xiang Ya, listen to yourself! You’re letting revenge consume you!"

  "Aren’t you!?" she shot back.

  The argument escalated.

  "I am enough!" Nee Chen shouted.

  "Even so, I need this!" Xiang Ya yelled back.

  "Don't be blinded by revenge!"

  "Why!?" Her voice cracked with frustration. "Wouldn’t you want their blood to spill!? If you were me, would you relent?"

  Their voices clashed like swords, echoing into the night.

  But neither backed down.

  Nee Chen clung to the old man’s words—not to be blinded by revenge—desperately trying to hold on to reason. But Xiang Ya saw through him. She knew he was trying to dissuade her, to keep her from walking the same bloody path.

  Even as mere mortals, they had heard the tales—the path of Good and Evil, of Righteousness and Wickedness, of Karma and Fate. Stories told in inns, whispered by minstrels, shared by travelers around crackling fires.

  Now, they stood at a crossroads.

  The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear—Xiang Ya would not be swayed. And deep down, neither could Nee Chen turn back.