Maksym Pachesiuk
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Moon Cultivation - Chapter 14: Cultivation Progress
🕑 Added 2025-03-10 13:42:27 +0000 UTCThis time, the Chamber didn’t just look like a crematorium—it felt like one. The overwhelming concentration of qi in the air, combined with the taut, wire-strung nerves, created the eerie illusion of smoke hanging in the chamber. All that was missing was a pile of ash on the thick metal grating of the floor.
I shook off the intrusive thought, stepped inside, and tried to sit on the metal surface polished by thousands of cadets before me.
Tried.
Lotus position? Not happening.
My legs got in the way, then my arms, then I was leaning too far forward.
"Hurry up, cadet!" the curator barked. "You’re keeping hundreds of others waiting!"
I didn’t give a damn about the others—I’d seen what happened to those who weren’t careful. After a few more awkward shifts, I finally settled into something vaguely stable—right knee nearly twice as high as the left—folded my hands, palms down, and gave a slight nod.
The curator looked at me like I was mocking him.
"That…?" He struggled to find the words for my grace.
"Yes," I confirmed confidently.
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head in frustration.
"Remember: the moment the pain gets too much—drop. Don’t tough it out."
I nodded again.
Another sigh. But he shut the door.
The crowd noise disappeared, leaving only the stale, lingering scent of sweat, fear, and pain. The echoes of previous sessions—like the room itself remembered those who had been here before me.
I waited until the curator’s face appeared in the viewing window, then closed my eyes.
A few seconds to clear my mind. Qi was already tickling my fingers. I exhaled, bracing for the impact. But the surge was lighter this time. Not boiling water, just very hot air.
I even opened my eyes in surprise—only to shut them again before I burned them out of my skull. But this time, I didn’t fight it. I let myself tear up. Let the pain wash over me.
This was the dangerous part—I lost balance and leaned to the side. A slightly stronger wave would have knocked me to the floor. I let the heat engulf me, ignored the unpleasant sensation of qi scraping over my mucous membranes like sandpaper.
It was unpleasant as hell. But I knew this feeling. And compared to what Doc had put me through during his test, this was nothing.
The only thing that worried me—my back. Holding balance and keeping the pressure off while the current poured through me was impossible.
The energy streamed through my body, igniting every part of it, activating every cell, attacking every weakness. Bones vibrated. Muscles tensed at the slightest shift, but once engaged, refused to relax. Blood roared through my veins. My whole body became a resonator for this strange force. And I felt myself swaying, matching its strange pulse, as if that was exactly how it was supposed to be.
I took a deep breath, let go of my thoughts, and drifted on the waves of fire. The heat must have understood that I wasn’t its enemy—because it stopped biting into my skin.
At some point, I wasn’t being rocked by flames anymore. It was the gentle ebb and flow of a calm sea. And then—
"CADET!"
The shout ripped me from its embrace.
I opened my eyes and found myself back on the polished metal grating of the Flow Chamber. The doors were open, and the supervisor was staring at me in surprise.
"You alive?"
He opened the door? What the hell?
"I didn’t drop!"
"Fifteen minutes are up," he informed me. "You sat through the whole thing like a damn statue. And after all that whining before you went in?"
"It would’ve been easier lying down," I pointed out.
"Next time, do whatever you want. Now move—can you stand on your own?"
I untangled my legs.
Every muscle in my body crackled with energy, and a burning sensation coiled under my solar plexus, like I’d swallowed a whole chilli pepper without chewing. But I stood.
I swayed for a second, but I stood, then walked out of the hall on my own two feet.
It was a strange state to be in—on one hand, my body was buzzing with energy. On the other, there was so much of it pressing down on me like a solid weight, making every step a struggle.
On the way back, I saw something strange—
My classmates were passing out right in the halls, slumping against the walls mid-step. The thinhorns were loading them onto carts and wheeling them off to their rooms.
For a brief moment, I considered asking for a ride. Then I dismissed the thought and proudly made it to my room on my own. Denis and Marlon were already there—collapsed on their bunks, still in their sweat-soaked jumpsuits.
"Up!" I barked.
Both of them flinched awake, eyes snapping open.
"Shower," I ordered.
"Fuck off…" Denis mumbled, flopping back onto his pillow.
"I’m not sleeping in a room that stinks of your sweat!" I shot back, yanking him off the bed.
I left Marlon alone—he had way farther to fall. But he didn’t put up a fight. Grumbling, he started climbing down on his own.
I shoved them both into the showers and washed up myself. Then, with absolute satisfaction, I crashed onto my bed.
I plunged into sleep. Only to be ripped out of it by a loud chime. It hit the silence like an explosion. I jolted upright, half-ready to dive for cover—
Then realised. Not an alarm. Not an attack. Just… dinnertime.
A message flashed in my vision, informing me that the school administration strongly recommended students not to skip dinner. We’d already slept through lunch, by the way.
Blinking heavily, I cracked my eyes open.
Denis was sprawled on his bed in a position that would be nowhere near comfortable under normal circumstances. The air in the room was thick with the sour scent of sweat—even though we’d all showered earlier.
Fatigue clung to everything—every limb, every breath. I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to move. My muscles creaked like I’d just run a marathon.
"Up. Food," I grumbled, peering at Marlon’s bunk.
Denis mumbled something incomprehensible, clearly not interested in moving.
Marlon reacted slightly better—slowly sat up, rubbed his eyes, then stared at me like I’d just said something deeply offensive.
Then he spent a long moment reconsidering his entire life.
"Den…" I called.
"Leave me alone…"
"They say cafeteria food helps absorb qi."
That got him moving.
None of us wanted to get up. But we had other wants—wants that clashed with the desire to keep sleeping. For Denis, somewhere deep in his subconscious, was the wish to become a great cultivator. For me? Something much simpler. I was hungry. Didn’t even care about the taste at this point. Though… meat was still the priority.
In the end, Denis forced himself upright. Marlon climbed down from his bunk.
"Where’s Bao?" I asked.
No answer.
We stepped into the corridor.
Silence.
The morning chaos—the anticipation, the nerves—had evaporated. Now, first-years moved like zombies, slow and sluggish. I saw one guy crawling along the wall. Another ahead of us staggered so hard he looked ready to collapse. A cadet to the left yawned so wide that not even a cat could have matched it.
It was almost comical—just how wrecked everyone was. And yet… I felt way better than these zombies.
"This isn’t how I imagined the day after a Flow Chamber," Denis muttered.
"I’m dead," Marlon mumbled, rubbing his temples.
The cafeteria was quiet. No loud conversations. No jostling in the queue. No more heated debates about Flow Chambers like at breakfast. It felt like we had all survived something collective, something exhausting. And now, we were just trying not to pass out into our food.
Well—they were.
My strength was returning fast. The food tray lottery gave me something hot, thick, and calorie-dense.
Didn’t even question what it was—just scooped up a spoonful. Turned out to be a decent vegetable stew, with a strong kick of paprika. The other dishes were sweeter, so I focused on this one.
Once we’d dulled the worst of our hunger, Denis spoke up.
"Seven minutes," he said.
I looked up.
"What?"
"Seven minutes. That’s how long I lasted in the Chamber."
I nodded thoughtfully.
"Why’d you drop?" Marlon asked.
"Couldn’t relax," Denis sighed. "Kept tensing when I should’ve just… well, you know. You went through it too."
Marlon finished his drink and said, "Eleven minutes."
Denis snorted.
"You bastard…"
I took a sip of mine, kept my face completely neutral, and added—
"Fifteen."
Denis nearly choked on his food. Marlon froze mid-movement, looking directly at me for the first time since dinner started.
And it wasn’t just them. Everyone who heard turned to stare—some in shock, others with clear resentment.
"Repeat that, sir," Denis said, like he didn’t believe his own ears.
"Fifteen."
"You know," he muttered, "Bao was right. Who the hell are you?"
I smirked and tapped my forehead.
"If only I knew. Hey, maybe I’m the reincarnation of some ancient hero?"
"Or maybe a demon?"
"Do you see any horns?"
I took my last sip of tea, watching as Marlon and Denis focused on their interfaces.
"Twenty-eighth place!" Denis blurted out.
"What?" I asked.
"Jake Sullivan," he repeated. "Twenty-eighth place. 102/2467."
I blinked.
102? In one session, I’d jumped from 27 to 102? That completely shattered my math again. I’d already calculated that one minute in the Chamber gave roughly 3 qi points. So, for 15 minutes, I should’ve gained +45 points. 27 + 45 = 72.
At best, I should’ve only caught up to Bao and his crystal. And 15 of those units should have already dispersed…
Wait.
I’d slept for half a day. Which meant—right after the Chamber, my numbers had been even higher!
Denis scratched the back of his head, looking uneasy.
"Twenty-eighth place, holy shit. That’s insane."
"Alright…" Marlon muttered. "Let’s see where we are."
That phrase triggered a chain reaction—all around the cafeteria, cadets pulled up their rankings. Except Denis. He sighed, clearly reluctant, and then finally admitted:
"1243."
"745," Marlon announced a few seconds later.
Denis scowled harder.
"God damn you…"
I took another sip of my drink and asked, "And where’s Bao?"
Denis groaned.
"Go ahead, finish me off."
Then he perked up slightly.
"Actually, I would be happy if you ranked higher than him. His sour face would make my day."
"Looks like you got your wish," I said. I scrolled through the top thirty. Bao wasn’t there.
Marlon found him first.
"Two thousand four hundred fifty-seven," he said, stunned.
"What?! How is that even possible?" I frowned. "He had over seventy points this morning. He was in the top hundred!"
"He has two now," Marlon murmured, as if even his own voice couldn’t believe it.
Even Denis stopped smiling, staring wide-eyed at the screen.
We all understood—something had gone very wrong with Bao.
"You think he’s in the infirmary?" I asked.
Marlon shrugged. "Could be."
Denis rubbed his chin.
"Bao… failed."
He exhaled sharply.
"I don’t even know how to feel about that. That asshole pissed me off, but…"
"He definitely overdid it," I said.
"Wonder what he’ll say when he gets back?" Denis managed to squeeze out a drop of sympathy. "Hope this doesn’t break him."
I, on the other hand, hoped it wouldn’t make him bitter. Or worse—make him resent us. This was the first morning he had actually started acting like a normal human being.
A rich brat with a grudge could be a pain in the ass.
"Should we try to find him?" I suggested.
Denis and Marlon nodded.
Comments
Jonathan Griffith
Tyftc!
