Maksym Pachesiuk
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Moon Cultivation - Chapter 39: Unique Perspective
🕑 Added 2025-04-02 23:36:01 +0000 UTCI was about to write a long report on Omar’s rant — about the missing girl, the “medics,” and his theory that something shady was going on around here — but the lack of a tablet stopped me. Typing on the floating holo-keyboard in mid-air was more annoying than I cared to admit.
Outgoing message: V. Novak
Subject: Rahman
Body: “Yesterday, two third-stage cultivators took Rahman from the dorms. Said it was for a migraine check, but people saw her kicking and biting. Since then, the rumours have been flying.”
Message sent, I headed into Robinson’s office.
Doc was visibly excited. He practically snatched the tin from my hands and cracked it open for inspection.
First thing he did? Sniffed the flowers. Apparently, my own appraisal method wasn’t that bad — though our results clearly differed. Doc winced and sighed heavily.
"That bad?" I asked.
"Let’s see," he said, holding a scanner over the tea. He checked the readings on his tablet... and brightened a bit.
"Not bad at all for 50k! If your ‘mysterious contact’" — he said it with full sarcasm — "has more, I’ll take it." He tapped something on his tablet, and the notification blinked behind my eyes.
New funds received
22.05.3225 17:27 +50,000.00
I gave a slight nod. Money was good. But still, I hated being in debt — almost more than I hated wasting money.
"It was meant to be a gift." I said.
"Bit pricey for a gift," Doc replied. "And it smells like a bribe. Besides, our collaboration has already been quite fruitful."
"I still owe you for the crystals and the Flow Chamber."
"Get me another thirty grams of this stuff — and we’ll call it even."
"I’ll try. But... if you don’t mind me asking — what do you need the flowers for? I heard they’re basically industrial waste."
I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around the idea of “waste” costing 30k per ten grams.
Doc paused, then decided to let me in.
"Not exactly a secret, but not something to shout from the rooftops either. I’m planning to make a Qi Purification Elixir."
If he expected applause — he didn’t get it.
I just tapped my forehead with a finger. Amnesia, remember?
"Details, please."
“Obviously,” Doc rolled his eyes. “The purer your Qi, the more concentrated it is — and the less you burn through when using techniques.”
“It doesn’t affect cultivation level?”
“No.”
“I mean, if all my Qi suddenly gets purified, am I gonna drop from...” I glanced at my interface and winced — my cultivation level had dropped by about fifty points since the last time I visited the Flow Chamber. “...say, from 363 to 333?”
“No. It'll actually go up. Wait — your energy reading was 363? That’s... that’s way too much.”
“No, I meant cultivation level.”
“Bloody hell.” Doc facepalmed. “Jake, it’s been two weeks since the memory loss. What have you been doing?”
“Mostly? Picking flowers,” I snapped, still hunting for the energy stat. Turns out it was right there on the main screen — just under my health status, listed as Energy — 140/140.
How was I supposed to know that’s what it meant?
“That was a joke?” Doc frowned.
“I’ve been working in the Garden. Trying to sense Fist Qi. I’m actually heading back there after this.”
“And? Any progress?”
“Depends if the formation’s on...” I saw the question forming on his face. “Long story. Your friend Aalan engraved a hypersensitivity formation onto my armour.”
“Hmm... I never tried that myself, but yeah — I remember sensing the Blade wasn’t easy.”
“The Blade? Wait — you didn’t study here?”
“Nope. Got kicked out of the Yellow Pine School,” Doc grimaced. “Any more questions?”
I figured I shouldn’t poke that particular bruise and took the chance to excuse myself. Besides — I could always ask the guys about Qi purification and energy ratings later.
I left Doc’s office and headed back to the Garden, found Diego 098. His shift had already started — and thankfully, this thinhorn angel of mercy handed out way less work than Albert.
I stuck to the same schedule — hour and a half on, half an hour off. At least, that was the plan... until Novak finally replied:
"Stop by when you're done at the Garden."
What? The hell?
I even looked around. Was someone watching me? Bugged? Did they have some kind of interface spyware that went straight into your brain?!
Ugh. Paranoia kicking in.
I lost rhythm for a moment, and the drones lined up with full baskets, waiting on me to catch up. I pulled myself together, picked up the pace, and got the queue moving again.
By the end of the shift, thanks to smaller plots and a slower work pace, I’d even managed to toggle the hypersensitivity formation on and off without missing a beat or breaking flow.
An hour and a half of flower duty flew by, and then came the question — do I go for a walk?
On one hand, it wasn’t just a walk. On the other, Novak might not appreciate me skipping over the first opportunity to report in.
Eh. He’ll survive.
I quickly spotted a cadet performing a fairly heavy technique — similar to the one that had triggered my first enlightenment. Except instead of one massive projected fist, he was forming several smaller ones — about football-sized — and launching them in tight clusters at a training dummy.
With the formation active, the waves of Fist Qi hit my senses like drumsticks on a taut membrane: ta-ta-ta-TA, ta-ta-ta-TA!
I could still feel the impact faintly even with the formation off — which was a nice surprise. The cadet, however, didn’t seem to enjoy having an audience. Even though I’d positioned myself behind him, he eventually turned around and said bluntly:
“You’re making me nervous, mate.”
“Apologies,” I said, nearly bowing. “I recently had an enlightenment while watching a similar technique. Trying to recreate it.”
“Ha!” he snorted. “You serious?”
“Well, yeah. I really did get an enlightenment from something similar. But mostly, I’m trying to learn how to sense Fist Qi.”
“Right... find someone else to watch, yeah? I just want to finish up and get out of here. Not in the mood to put on a show.”
“Got it. Sorry again.”
He waved me off without another word.
By that point, I’d already used up about twenty minutes of my walk time. I spent the next ten wandering between platforms, hunting for weaker techniques. Some I could sense, some I couldn’t — so it was hard to measure any real progress.
I decided to leave it for tomorrow.
I messaged Novak, telling him I’d finished up in the Garden and could be at his place in about forty minutes.
He replied: “Come by after dinner.”
Well then.
At dinner, I had to lie to the guys — told them I was meeting with Kate. And hey — Bao’s confidence had levelled up! He even swapped plates with Kay. Still ate in silence though. Denis talked for him anyway.
After dinner, I headed to Novak’s.
At the station, Lina met me and escorted me to his overly secure, overly luxurious flat. She left me with a few greasy remarks about “young favourites,” then disappeared before the master could scold her.
This time, the old master wasn’t in his usual sharp trousers, shirt and vest — but in the staff’s standard black jumpsuit, marked with twin fives on the collar.
He looked even less like some venerable shifu — more like a European general out of an old military drama.
He was standing by the window with a glass of bourbon, watching the sprawl of school lights below.
I glanced around, then stepped up beside him.
“No tea today?”
“With you around, I’ll go bankrupt serving Clear Thoughts every time,” he replied.
“Don’t you need my brain working at full capacity?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
“Not even sure I need you,” Novak said dryly.
I felt a chill march from the back of my neck down to my arse, forcing every muscle in my glutes to clench up in alarm.
“I meant right now,” he clarified.
“Next time, clarify before dropping lines like that!” I snapped. “You’ll give someone a heart attack.”
Novak gave me a sideways glance, mildly puzzled.
“Do I scare you?”
“Are there people you don’t scare?”
He actually paused to consider it.
“Well... I’d like to think my students aren’t afraid of me.”
“You’ve made it very clear I’m not your student. Our relationship’s more... transactional. Also — minor detail — you did consider killing me when we first met.”
“I was only considering it. There wasn’t even a clear intent.” Novak waved dismissively.
“And that’s supposed to be comforting?”
“Seems to be — judging by the way you’re mouthing off now.” He gestured vaguely with both hands.
“Oh. Sorry,” I finally realised I was pushing my luck.
“That’s exactly why I need you...”
“To apologise?”
His next look promised a swift and painless death if I didn’t shut up immediately. I took the hint. Didn’t even apologise — figured that might read as sarcasm.
He stared at me in silence for a full two minutes, long enough for sweat to start soaking through my shirt. Then he took a sip of bourbon and gestured toward a chair.
I was in it before his hand dropped back to his side.
“I need you because of your unique perspective,” he said at last, dropping into his own seat. This time, he didn’t sit across from me — just kept staring out the window.
“My father fought demons. Survived, by some miracle. I’ve spent my entire long life preparing for that war. Maybe that’s clouded my judgement.”
“Well,” I dared to say, “If you’re having doubts... your judgement’s probably not that clouded.”
Novak nodded and took another sip.
“I’ve decided,” he said, “as you once put it, to bury Rahman in the Wastes.”
“She’s a demon? A demon agent?”
His expression twisted in something close to disgust.
“There’s a demon in her head. Literally. The consciousness transfer went wrong. Now there’s two of them in there. Rahman’s still behind the wheel... for now.”
Whoa!
Holy. Shit.
We’d been in the same hospital room when they installed our interfaces. Me — I mean, the original Jake — got a memory wipe. And her? She ended up with a hitchhiker in her skull.
Seems to me... someone really screwed the pooch on that one.
Shit.
I probably owe my second life to that very same screw-up.
My brain locked up from the endless combinations of what could’ve happened — and what still might. And honestly? This was peak xianxia. In a “proper” story, it’d be some ancient master sharing a body... Then again, maybe he is ancient. Or maybe Rahman’s one-of-a-kind soul is destined to conquer the demon inside her, and he’ll learn to love humanity so much he’ll sacrifice himself to save us all.
Yeah. Sure.
Pull the other one, it’s got bells on.
"Jake..." Novak snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Still with me?"
"Alive and kicking — unless you’re planning to bury me in the Wastes too," I muttered, slipping back into default sarcasm. Novak didn’t glare this time — just let out a short breath and asked:
"Would there be a reason to?"
"Not that I know of." And even if there was, I sure as hell wouldn’t tell him.
Then again — if there was, he’d probably already know. He had known I was in the Garden, after all… Though maybe that wasn’t all that hard to find out.
"So," Novak said, "what does your unique perspective say?"
"That you’re looking for a reason not to kill her."
Novak winced again and knocked back the rest of his bourbon in one gulp.
"Thank you," he said.
"Don’t mention it. Keep her alive. You’ll get a hell of a lot more out of a living girl than a dead one."
Also, I really wanted a chance to talk to the demon that was supposed to take this body. Not sure if they’d let me… or if that was even technically possible.
Comments
Jonathan Griffith
Tyftc!
