Maksym Pachesiuk
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Moon Cultivation - Chapter 3: Moon, Demons and Roots
🕑 Added 2025-03-10 11:20:33 +0000 UTC“Memories can be jumbled at first,” the doctor said. “Let’s start with something simple. Do you know where you are?”
“Looks like a hospital…” I said, glancing around.
“Is that a memory or an assumption?”
“Assumption,” I admitted.
“Strange. This is an important day, an important place. It’s usually one of the first things people recall.”
“Nothing,” I shook my head. “So where am I?”
The doctor raised an eyebrow, as if doubting something—or debating whether to answer at all.
“Verdis,” he said, as if that explained everything.
We stared at each other for a moment.
Then I snapped.
"Doc, cut the bullshit and spit it out! I have no bloody clue what the hell Verdis is!"
The doctor sighed.
“It’s a moon. The third one.”
“A moon? How many are there?”
The doctor gave me a look like I’d just grown a second head and pointed his scanner pen at me.
“Not funny. That’s basic knowledge. You don’t forget something like that.”
“Well, then I’m bloody sure there’s supposed to be one goddamn moon!” I yelled, jumping to my feet, fists clenched.
I took a step forward.
The doctor flinched.
“Are you seriously trying to threaten me?” he asked, incredulously.
“I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on!”
I took another step, but this time, the doctor didn’t back away.
Instead, he grabbed my ear, twisted it hard, and forced me back into my seat. His grip was iron.
“Aaagh—Ow!” I yelped, while he pressed the scanner against my neck.
“The crash has started,” he diagnosed after a few seconds. “Get a grip. Picking a fight with a Condensation isn’t the smartest idea.”
“What? Can you say that in human?” I was still fuming, though I knew full well my hormones were going haywire.
"I'm a Condensation. Or rather, I’ve reached Condensation. Third level of cultivation—Qi Condensation stage." He studied my face, searching for recognition.
I just shook my head.
“Not even a flicker.”
We fell into silence…
The doctor lifted his scanner to my neck again, then to my temple. I suppressed the urge to shove the damn thing up his arse. I had no idea what his third level meant, but judging by his grip, he was strong enough to make sure it ended up in my arse instead.
“So, how many moons are there?” he asked.
“One!” I growled.
"Congratulations, you still qualify for an insurance payout." His tone was dry as he checked the interface. "It’s been running for a while now—if your memory was going to return, it should have by now. We’ll monitor you for a bit longer, but I doubt anything will change.”
“Cheers.”
Instead of anger, a crushing sense of despair settled over me. I suddenly felt so sorry for myself, I nearly cried. Poor me, poor bloody me—what am I supposed to do without my memories?
To snap myself out of it, I asked another question.
“So, are you finally going to tell me what’s so special about this place?”
“Verdis—the third of nine,” he answered. “The only one with a light atmosphere, livable gravity. It has enough qi to sustain cultivation.”
I forced myself to process the information.
Alright… a moon.
The only one of nine that could support life. That meant the rest were just dead rocks.
Still, I got the feeling people didn’t live here permanently. More like… they came here.
“This moon… what planet does it orbit?”
“Earth.” That answer didn’t even faze him—the unspoken ‘Duh’ was almost audible.
But I was starting to wonder what kind of Earth we were talking about. I didn’t tell the doctor that my memory had finally coughed up an image of a blue-green sphere.
“Do they only implant neuro-interfaces here?” I asked.
“No. Here, people cultivate.”
“So they don’t cultivate on Earth?”
“They used to. Once, Earth was rich with energy, but over the last few millennia, its levels dropped too low. The natural sources dried up. Whatever remained… the demons took.”
“Demons?”
“This isn’t a topic you’ll be able to avoid. The next raid isn’t for another forty years. You’ll figure it out yourself.”
He glanced at the monitor, then gestured at the pods.
“I’ve got two more of your batch waking up, so let’s get to the important stuff. Follow me.”
We stepped up to the monitor, and my semi-transparent interface flickered onto the black screen.
“You won’t need the interface ninety percent of the time, so I’d suggest switching it to sleep mode and using the external display instead.”
The doctor gestured at a list of starting tutorial data.
Spiritual Roots:
• Fire: 7
• Water: 16
• Lightning: 4
• Air: 15
• Earth: 16
• Wood: 5
Martial Roots:
• Blade: 5
• Mace: 2
• Point: 13
• Fist: 23
• Palm: 6
• Finger: 11
Celestial Roots:
• Gravity: 3
• Vacuum: 1
“Spiritual roots determine your affinity with natural elements. Martial roots indicate your potential in different forms of combat and weaponry. As for celestial roots… well, they’re more exotic. We suspect there are more of them, but we can only detect two.
There aren’t any proper techniques for them yet, so I wouldn’t recommend getting too excited.”
“You are a first-period cadet,” he continued. “You have one year to reach the second level—Foundation stage. If you fail, you’ll be culled.”
That sounded ominous. Like a bloody death sentence.
“…What exactly do you mean by ‘culled’?”
I dragged my thumb across my throat in a universal we-get-rid-of-you gesture and raised an eyebrow.
“What? No! You’ll just be kicked out of the programme, sent back to Earth, and you won’t be able to cultivate anymore. The pressure is high—some cadets don’t take rejection well and end up offing themselves. But I promise you, it’s not the end. I was culled in my first year. Went on to get a degree in medicine, came back as staff. Been here for years now, just broke through at Condensation.
Once your insurance payout comes in, you’ll have every chance to pull the same trick.”
Somehow, that didn’t sound very convincing. No competition among the staff? Yeah, right.
“How many get culled?” I asked.
“Seventy-five percent.”
I stared at him.
“Only one in four makes it through?”
“That’s right. The ones who break through faster and score higher in technique mastery get priority.”
Sounded like a bloody Battle Royale.
“How many cadets are there in total?”
“There are roughly one hundred and fifty thousand cultivators on Verdis at any given time. Fifty thousand are cadets, including ten thousand first-period. About a hundred are staff. Another thirty thousand—third- and fourth-period cadets—train on other moons and return to Verdis for rest.”
“…Didn’t you say those moons don’t have an atmosphere?”
“At third and fourth levels, that’s no longer a serious issue. Especially with the right armour.”
I tried to process the idea of cultivator astronauts, but it didn’t quite fit. In web novels, cultivation took decades, if not centuries. And here? A bloody rat race.
And I knew nothing about it.
The other cadets would have prepared. They’d have strategies, plans—All I had was money. Which I hadn’t even received yet. Should I just take it and go, live comfortably on Earth? Though something told me the demons wouldn’t allow that. The doctor hadn’t mentioned them for no reason.
“Doc, you do realise that I’m…” I tapped my forehead with a fist.
“Don’t do that,” he cut me off.
“You’re one to talk.” I gestured at his scanner. “You whacked me with that thing!”
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t do it.”
“…Fine. But I am memoryless. Doesn’t that qualify me for some kind of exemption? Maybe a delay?”
The doctor let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.
“First year is hell. Don’t trust anyone. And don’t turn your back on anyone, either.” There was something personal in the way he said it. “Some cadets won’t hesitate to eliminate the competition physically,” he continued. “The punishment is expulsion, but I’ve never seen a first-year class without incidents.
If you make it to the second level, things calm down. You’ll get another three-year period to reach Condensation. The dropout rate drops to less than ten percent.”
“…Any practical advice on how to not get culled?”
“The highest scores go to those who break through quickly. If you make it into the top five hundred, your chances jump to fifty percent.”
“…Five hundred out of ten thousand?!”
“Out of the two thousand who entered the Black Lotus School with you,” the doctor continued. “Still, I’d suggest checking the overall Verdis rankings to be sure.”
He paused, seemingly lost in thought—maybe recalling his own experience.
“But I wouldn’t recommend focusing solely on cultivation and ignoring combat techniques,” he added. “The moment cadets master their first skills, bullying starts. The goons start hunting pure cultivators.”
He glanced at me.
“And I also wouldn’t recommend neglecting internal techniques. Take the Focusing Technique, for example—every researcher here uses it. Mine’s red—Condensation level. You, however, should stick to the green-blue one, level one—Qi Refining. That’s your current stage.”
I opened my mouth to ask something, but he shut me down before I could.
“You’ll figure out the colour system on your own.”
The doctor tapped the screen, opening a new tab titled Journal.
“You can take notes—voice or text input, whichever you prefer.”
Oh. Quests unlocked. Do I get EXP for this?
“Demons,” I said, and the word appeared under the date 12.05.3225. A timestamp read 14:16.
“Colour system,” I added, watching it appear at 14:17.
“The first month is meant to be introductory, but if you follow the programme, you’ll be lagging behind from the start,” the doctor said. “What you really need is to push past the first bottleneck.
Each cultivation level has two of them. You can’t break through without supplements. I’d recommend Pleomax A1.2 over the standard A1.56. It’s worth the extra cost—you won’t regret it. So, forget everything else and cultivate until you break through the first bottleneck. That’ll allow you to access a minimal qi reserve—enough to properly use techniques.”
I absorbed the information in silence.
“After that—Focusing Technique. Then a fist technique. Again, don’t waste time on high-rank, flashy moves—pick something you can master fast. Even a grey technique will do. You just need to land one solid hit on a bully. Show them you’re not an easy target.
And if you get cornered, pay up for a Fist Essence and boost your root level. It’ll be quicker that way.”
“Fist Essence,” I muttered, noting it down.
The doctor gave me an approving nod before his gaze unfocused, as if reading something in his interface. Then he turned to the pods—one of them was shifting upright.
“After that, cultivate until your breakthrough, then start completing assignments. It’ll be easier for you, since the tasks are designed for first-level cadets, and you’ll already be second-level. And don’t overdo the duels. It’s the easiest way to lose points.”
With a few precise gestures in the air, he sent a notification to my interface.
Incoming message from: R. P. Robinson
Subject: manuals
I tapped ‘Read,’ and the doctor moved on to check his next patient.
He sent me three manuals:
• Basics of Cultivation
• Cultivation in a Flow Chamber
• Black Lotus School Prospectus
Just as I started skimming them, a pink-cheeked man with two thin, ten-centimetre-long horns walked into the chamber.
My first thought? Demons. Raids. But the white coat wasn’t exactly prime raiding armour.
“You called, Doctor Robinson?”
The doctor gestured at me.
"Memory loss. Help him make sense of things, answer his questions. Just not here. You can use Room Four—the old facility."
