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Chapter 214: Closed Door Cultivation
🕑 Added 2023-06-07 17:36:00 +0000 UTCSo, um, this is a bit embarrassing, but I forgot that Jack needs to reach the peak of the E-Grade before breaking through. Or, at least, there is no need to complicate things yet. Not saying he will break through here, but he certainly seemed to think so, so I edited the experience jewel the Sage gave him to push Jack all the way to Level 124. In the editing phase of this book, I'll go back and add some more levels to the earlier rings so this isn't such a colossal power-up.
Sorry for the confusion, and enjoy the chapter!
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Jack was alone. In the dark.
There was no source of heat or light in the cave. Nothing flammable, besides his clothes and hair. Even if he snapped his fingers hard enough to create sparks, all he achieved was a momentary respite from the darkness, a hollow light that accentuated the walls and floor of his prison.
He had to escape. He had to reach the D-Grade.
Jack knew some things about cultivation now. Rushing head-first into his most difficult breakthrough yet would be a fool’s errand. He needed to prepare as best as possible—work on his Dao until the only thing left to do was break through.
Thankfully, he had time. He sat down, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.
The first few days passed easily. Though the darkness bore a crushing weight, Jack’s heart was as stable as a mountain. He sat cross-legged in the center of the main room, closing his eyes out of habit, and focused on his breathing. The loneliness didn’t daunt him. Neither did the stakes. There was only him and the Dao.
He did make some progress. Sinking into his soul world, he practiced against Copy Jack, finetuning his new Meteor Punch a little. He got a sense of where the skill’s limits lay, as well as exactly how much energy it required—turns out, he could use it up to five times before exhausting himself, provided that he let his hand regenerate in the meantime.
It was exceptionally strong, too. Not enough to dent the reinforced cave walls, but strong.
Despite cultivating for days, however, Jack didn’t feel his inspiration running dry. Throughout Trial Planet, he was running a lot and meditating little. He had amassed a large amount of experience that he had to slowly piece apart.
He didn’t feel any sort of enlightenment, either. There was no spark of inspiration that would allow him to spontaneously break through like he had for the E-Grade. He just had to work hard, like his life depended on it—which it did.
Due to his strong body, thirst wouldn’t kill him easily. He could go for a few weeks if needed. Therefore, he resolved himself to wait as long as possible in order to maximize his chances of success.
But the darkness was hard to endure. As was loneliness.
By the second day, Jack had explored every nook and cranny of this place. There wasn’t much to see. The main room was completely bare, save for a rotten meditation mat in the very center that he’d moved aside. The bedroom had a rotten bed frame and an iron stool. The last room was the bathroom—nothing but an alcove in the rock with a three-foot-deep hole leading nowhere. At least this part was blissfully empty.
Besides those few things, all that existed was smooth rock everywhere, the lever that wouldn’t move, and the stone slab that also wouldn’t move.
And Jack.
He didn’t feel there was anything more to discover, but he kept trying. No matter how deeply he sank into cultivation, he always awoke eventually, and every time he did, he remembered the darkness. Standing up and walking around became an increasingly frequent habit. Feeling the walls was a relief—it meant there was no danger. He hadn’t been magically transported to another darkness. This was his darkness.
On the fourth day, he discovered one extra thing in the cave: a tattered cape, bunched-up in a corner. It wasn’t falling apart like everything else, but Jack knew the reason. He was the one who threw this cape in here. On his final clash with Longsword, when he finally overpowered him, the shockwave had been strong enough to send the swordsman’s cape flying. As he had been standing with his back to the cave mouth, it ended up here.
Jack chuckled to himself. “What luck,” he muttered, estranged by the sound of his own voice. “It’s just me and the cape of my enemy. Maybe I’ll call it Wilson.”
By the ninth day, he started to feel unwell. Dark thoughts sprang in his mind unbidden. His throat was parched from thirst, and his stomach was protesting from hunger. The cold solitude had seeped deep into his soul, infecting him with a fear he couldn’t shake away. Even when he succeeded, it always came back, slightly stronger than the last time.
Of course, this strange fear wasn’t that much of a problem by itself. Given his strong Will, he could easily endure it. The problem was that it obstructed his cultivation sessions. At times, he would be deep in meditation when a sudden surge of fear would shoot him awake.
There were times when he would suddenly shout out and punch the rock. Not due to creeping insanity; just to vent. With nobody watching, Jack could allow himself small respites.
He even went as far as to prop up the cape against a wall and speak to it at times, to relieve the loneliness.
As the days passed, Jack felt himself degrading. He was growing dirtier, since there was no water here. Slimmer, too. His hair was disheveled, and his facial hair had grown erratically, but he had no heart to groom it. Not that he could, anyway—there was nothing sharp here, and his hair grew more durable along with his body. Normal razors would dull before he was even halfway done.
His mental well-being was also suffering. The irrational fear was now permanently nested in his chest. There were many times when he was certain he saw red eyes in the darkness. He sensed a hot, musky breath on his shoulder—the black wolf’s from the Forest of the Strong. Once, he thought he heard the cries of Rufus Emberheart as he pummeled him into paste.
“This sealed chamber is not a nice place,” he told the cape on the wall. By now, most of his thoughts were made aloud. “I wonder how strong immortals are, for them to find peace here. Or maybe they don’t stay for over a week per session. Will I turn into Gan Salin if this goes on?”
Despite his troubles, the one thing that didn’t degrade in the slightest was Jack’s resolve to break through. He would not die here. He could not. He would survive.
Every time he sank into meditation, the Dao lay before his eyes, an infinite blanket he could traverse with tiny steps. It was woven out of power, and life, and resolve, and the deepest essence of the Fist. It was as large as a desert, with its dunes and valleys, with every grain of sand being its own star.
The sheer enormity of this task frightened Jack. It made him despair. And yet, he trudged on, day after day, thought after thought. He compared his insights and contrasted them. He passed them through a fine-toothed comb, looking for the tiniest imperfections and contradictions.
Just because he’d fused his Dao Roots didn’t mean he understood them perfectly—just enough to see where they fit into the greater picture of his Dao Seed. And, if each Dao Root was an enormity, comprehending their infinite combinations was an unfathomable task. How was he supposed to find a solution that perfectly satisfied the Fist, Indomitable Will, Life, and Power in every possible scenario?
There was some inner balance to be found, but it was so elusive and incorporeal. As he analyzed every insight he had, the tiniest mistakes could cascade into gaping holes. Sometimes, one imperfection could mean that the entire insight had to be scrapped.
What was the Fist? What did it mean to have Indomitable Will? What was Life? What was Power?
How did they all fit together?
Over time, Jack realized why almost every immortal had only one Dao Root. The complexity rose geometrically with every extra one. It was like adding an entire new axis to the universe.
As the days passed, he grew more and more uncertain of his success. His resolve didn’t waver, but he understood the height of his task better. It could take him years. No matter how talented someone was, and no matter how many good opportunities they had, some matters simply couldn’t be forced.
His only hope was that, when he ran out of time and used the Dao Sprouting Pill, it would be enough to let him break through, even imperfectly.
He didn’t actually know much about this breakthrough.
To become an immortal, you had to take your Dao Seed as the basis and combine it with your Dao Roots, forming a system where the roots supplied meaning and energy to the seed to let it grow. If you could form a solid enough understanding, the world would resonate with your Dao, sprouting it into a Dao Tree.
However, even the tiniest imperfection could have a huge impact on your tree’s stability, just like one hair-thin crack could ruin an entire sword. Small mistakes could lead to the entire thing crumbling and your Dao remaining stuck forever, with a broken tree piercing its center like a blade through the heart. Tiny mistakes could turn the blooming tree into nothing but a little flower, making you the weakest of immortals who could never progress further.
Jack knew these things because Salin and Nauja had told him while traveling, but he had no real frame of reference. What was a “tiny mistake?” How high was he supposed to reach? Was his current understanding even remotely close to good enough?
And, most importantly, would the bare minimum of a Dao Tree satisfy him? He had dreams. He had a planet to save and the peak of power to pursue. He was far ahead of the pack, a Lord who had reached this height in an incredibly short amount of time. He had the blood of a God in his soul.
He didn’t want to just break through. He wanted to achieve a Dao Tree as robust as possible, so he could continue to dominate and grow stronger like he had so far.
Yet, would he have the choice? His decisions had led him to this cave, where he had to rush his breakthrough or die.
“Do I regret it?” he asked himself. Every time, his eyes shone, and a strong breath filled his chest. “No. I followed the path of the fist here, and I will follow it to the end, because it gave me a life worth living. If I die or break my path, so be it. It will just signify that I was never meant to reach higher.”
This sort of resolve was the core of his Dao. He didn’t look back. He charged ahead with roaring laughter, fighting until he fell.
As for when that would be… Who knew.
However, as the days passed, Jack’s condition worsened. His body slimmed down until he was a husk of his previous self. His throat was so parched he could barely speak. The thirst was strong enough that even he, for all his willpower, teetered on the edge of collapse.
By this point, he was sitting in his own filth. And yet, his eyes were as bright as stars, and a faint purple aura shimmered around him with every breath. If one only took a quick glance at the current Jack, they would not see a man, but a clenched fist.
He lost track of time. Even his previous estimations had only been based on instinct. It could have been two weeks or three—he couldn’t tell.
And there came a time when his eyes sprang open, and despite his pain, they were filled with unyielding resolve. He had cultivated as much as he could—any longer, and his body would grow so weak that it would impact his breakthrough. His time was up.
Now.
A hand reached for the side, where he’d placed the Dao Sprouting Pill. He could sense it in his palm—an apple rife with life, pulsing with the power of the Dao and its infinite permutations.
Jack closed his eyes, though it made no difference, and bit into the apple. He instantly lost his breath as the flavor fired every neuron in his brain at once.
His breakthrough had begun.
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Out latest DnD one-shot over at SeaBreeze is out, too. Check out Goblin Village Heroes! Where the players (optionally goblins) are tasked with saving the goblins of mushroom village from the evil sorcerer who wants to turn them into gold.
Perfect for introducing people to the game, regardless of age—or, for experienced adventurers, a lighthearted break from saving the world.
Comments
Ivo Wißen
No he is the bro, it is normal
Nathan Sto
Speaking of breakthroughs, it's sorta weird to consider that Brock is currently stronger than nearly everyone on earth, eh?
Baconwargod
You’re good man mistakes happen and that was fun looking forward to seeing the breakthrough process this time. The E-grade breakthrough was supremely fun. Can’t wait!
