Maksym Pachesiuk
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Moon Cultivation - Chapter 59: Stairs and Teeth
🕑 Added 2025-04-30 23:36:01 +0000 UTCThis time, I had lunch alone.
No one messaged, no one called, no one was gathering the gang. And I didn’t message anyone either. I was in too much of a rush. The plan was simple: shove down whatever the machine served and sprint to René, try to get an hour in with him before my shift started. After my six o’clock shift, I’d only have time if I mastered teleportation.
The meal I got was a mixed bag — metallic rice on one side, and meat that tasted like ice cream on the other. I shoved the meat in my mouth first, then washed the mind-bending flavour down with bitter tea, and surprisingly, managed to find some enjoyment in the rice and salad.
From the cafeteria, I went straight to the metro. As soon as I dropped onto a bench in the carriage, I messaged Kate — described the “build” Alan had suggested and his notes on the armour.
No reply after a minute, or ten. Apparently, Kate was in treatment again.
The hall door was open — though the hall itself was empty. Lights were on, but not a soul in sight. The instructor’s office was closed. Of course. René probably went to eat too. Not that I thought of that. Who’d have guessed instructors were people too — at least during lunch.
Still, I didn’t feel like stopping. My body wanted movement.
I warmed up — not like in the morning, with the precision and focus gifted by Pure Thoughts, but like yesterday. Started with basic moves in the hologram — shoulders, elbows, fists. I focused on technique and precision, trying not to slip into racing the hologram. Then I ran through the full cycle a few times, and only about thirty minutes in did I move on to qi control.
I had some concern that without Pure Thoughts I wouldn’t manage it, but…
I just had to push a little harder. Cultivation, honestly, was laughably like riding a bike. The moment you catch your balance, you never forget how it feels. Next time, you might be scared, maybe you won’t hit the pedals right away or straighten the handlebars on the first try — but once you push off, your body does the rest.
Same here.
A few times I stumbled with the qi thread and it dissipated, but on the fourth try, I stretched it all the way to the knuckle of my index finger.
"Ha-ha!" I shouted in triumph — and was answered by a solitary round of applause. I spun around sharply.
"You were supposed to come later," René said.
"Yeah," I replied, a bit embarrassed by my childish outburst. "That’s how it turned out. I won’t make it in the evening… and in twenty minutes I’ve got to run to another shift. Fifty units from me — no argument."
"Then for these twenty minutes, I’m all yours," René didn’t turn me away. "Run through all the bones. If you manage it in five minutes, we’ll try working on all three lower branches at once."
I didn’t make it in five minutes, so for the rest of the time, René had me running single qi thread through the deep forearm channel that split into three in the fist. Mastering simultaneous control of all three offshoots was to be our next goal — but not today.
Tonight I still had cultivation, so starting with the shift I planned to take it easy. Well... maybe I could still look up Mad Monkey in the library.
And from what I watched and read, it didn’t seem like this technique was so unpopular after all. Of course, its popularity didn’t come from the base version, but from its upgrades — the Mad Monkeys of the North, South, West and East. Earth, fire, water and air respectively. In our school, for obvious reasons, it was the Mad Monkey of the East that was particularly popular.
The upgrade, like the original, didn’t allow for any real damage, was nearly useless in vacuum, and energy-intensive in Verdis’s thin atmosphere — but in the arena under the dome... Oh-ho-ho! The Monkey’s movements became truly mad. It could literally push off the air!
Say no more — I was in love.
My shift passed quietly. No incidents, no surprises. Tablet, library, something resembling country music — and constant thoughts about what combinations I could make with the four techniques I’d chosen to learn.
Still no response from Kate about the build, so I was starting to worry. But Kate had Vaclav, who cared about her almost too much — so she had to be fine.
After the shift, Nur and I walked through the greenhouse — reminiscing about how we first met and mentally preparing for the evening cultivation. Apparently, Bulsara had gone easy on her, and the tests really had just been tests.
I had dinner with Rahman and her roommates. We didn’t talk much: the girls were tired after work, and I was focused on planning. Nur clearly hadn’t told them she was close to the bottleneck, so the atmosphere was tired but not tense. We cracked a few jokes, exchanged a handful of meaningless updates, and went our separate ways.
Back in my room, I lay on my bed for a bit, and at the scheduled time, I brewed Pure Thoughts. The honey-citrus aroma instantly cleared my head and swept away the last of the fatigue.
I was ready.
In the corridor, guess who I bumped into? Tariq.
We were walking in the same direction, but the bully immediately stepped aside and gestured for me to go first.
"I don’t want any trouble, man," he said. "I’m just minding my own business."
"Fine by me," I replied.
Everything changed on the stairs.
I’d only descended one flight when I saw them — the redhead and the dark-skinned one from Tariq’s gang — waiting on the landing below. Both wore gloves and held maces, with bloodthirsty grins stretched across their faces.
I looked back up.
On the landing above, I saw the Asian kid standing beside Tariq. Kim had gloves on too and was holding two maces, while Tariq pulled on the gloves Kim had just handed him.
I tensed.
My way out was cut off — but I wasn’t afraid. My head was clear, working like a calculator. Pure Thoughts — no doubt about it.
I’d clearly let my guard down. Honestly, the way Tariq had acted in the corridor had been… nice. I hadn’t even considered that he might have had other plans. I’d just taken it at face value. He was scared of me.
Ha! Never thought I’d enjoy being feared.
But now wasn’t the time for reflection.
Four bullies with sticks were still four bullies with sticks. They hadn’t lured me here to apologise.
So, what could I do?
The choice was as old as the sky — fight or flight.
So what should I do? Fight… or run?
Forget bravado.
Four young, strong guys with weapons aren’t something you just brush off. Even my superior cultivation wouldn’t help here. After all, we were all at the same stage — and they had weapons.
What did I have?
Chain Punch. Except I hadn’t finished learning the technique. Its power was maybe a quarter — hell, maybe an eighth — of what it should be. And damage was never its strong suit to begin with.
The last time I’d used Chain Punch on a person, all I managed was to make the cadet stumble — and that guy wasn’t exactly a heavyweight. Sure, my projections were sharper now, but had the damage really improved?
Tariq had finished pulling on his gloves, grabbed his mace, and gave it a few energetic swings. Just then, a cadet appeared on the landing. He seemed absorbed in his interface, but the two guys with maces snapped his attention back to the real world.
He looked at the bullies, then at me, turned around — and walked away in silence.
Tariq followed him with his eyes, then stepped onto the stairs.
Stumble!
I’d made that cadet stumble!
"No villain monologue this time?" I asked, raising my fists.
There was no point in running. To escape, I’d still have to pass within arm’s reach of one of them. They’d get me. Right now, distance worked in my favour.
"First, I’m gonna beat you down," Tariq snarled, calling over his mates. "Boys!"
The two from below started to climb.
"You sure about that, Tariq?" I asked.
For a moment, I was tempted to aim for his balls. Even a light hit there would’ve been enough — but I hadn’t worked on precision yet, and who knew where the projection would actually land? The first strike would cost me the element of surprise, and after that, it would all come down to chance. If I hit his thigh and it turned out to be just a weak nudge, he might realise I didn’t actually have any real power.
I had to take one of them out.
Tariq! It’s always the ringleader. And besides, he was coming first. Then the others wouldn’t be so keen to test the technique on themselves.
I aimed at Tariq’s left leg and waited for him to shift his weight onto it, raising the right one to step forward.
Then I relied on what had drawn me to the technique in the first place — its speed.
Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam-bam-bam!
A burst of projections shot forward, scattering like pellets from the world’s jankiest shotgun. About half of them hit the stairs beneath and around Tariq, but the others struck his legs.
I don’t know how strong the blows were.
Tariq’s eyes went wide with shock and fear. He jerked — and lost his balance. His arms flailed, the mace flew from his hands, and he went face-first down the stairs.
He tried to catch himself with his hands, but they folded at the first step they met. The rest of his body dove, and the last five steps were taken face-first, with emphasis.
I stepped back to avoid getting knocked over, but his body came to a halt when his face hit the floor at the base of the landing. His mace kept rolling — I planted my foot on it.
Kim froze on the stairs above. The two below hadn’t seen exactly what happened, but they’d seen me unleash the technique — and they stopped as well.
Tariq…
Tariq, the bastard, was trying to get up!
After all that, he still had the strength to move?!
I picked up his mace and considered planting it right on the back of his skull — but I didn’t want to accidentally kill him. So I gave him a kick and rolled him onto his back.
What was it he’d said last time? "Nef feehs?" Third time’s the charm — maybe these teeth will stick.
I lined up the mace head and placed it right under his broken nose, which was already bleeding. Tariq snorted — and the mace head slid halfway into his mouth. The bully went limp. He didn’t seem completely unconscious, but “conscious” was a generous term.
I pulled the mace back — didn’t want the poor bastard choking on his own blood and teeth — then tossed it at the feet of the pair below and ordered:
"Drag this shit to the infirmary."
I took a few steps towards the two downstairs. The redhead cracked and backed away.
"I’m not here to beat you up," I said. "I might just kill someone by accident — and that’s a guaranteed expulsion. Do I need that?"
The bullies shrank back, hugging the railing, letting me pass. Neither of them dared move their mace an inch.
Comments
Jonathan Griffith
Tyftc!
