I Can Only Cultivate In A Game

Author's Note: Do Not Unlock Yet Chapter Is Still Under Construction.

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(( Hours later ))

The wedding ceremony had ended at this point.

Victor proceeded to pass through the thinning crowd toward the Bai family's private quarters where he had been summoned.

A hall of dark timber and jade screens was tucked behind the main pavilion.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense.

Bai Yong, Bai Ting Ting's father, stood by the carved altar in robes of deep indigo and silver clasped at his throat.

Beside him, Elder Madame Bai, their grandmother, sat on a high-backed chair of carved rosewood with her hands folded over a jade scepter.

Two other elders, Bai Rui and Bai Zhen, flanked the far side of the low council table with grim expressions.

Victor was ushered immediately to a stool beside Bai Xue, while the senior Bai family gathered in a semi-circle before the altar's pale lotus carvings.

Bai Xue spoke first. "Thank you all for staying after the ceremony. I know this is not the evening any of us planned—" She glanced at Ting Ting, who offered her a trembling nod. "But I believe—no, I know—we must plan for the safety of Lingyun Town."

Bai Yong's brows furrowed. "What news have you brought, daughter?" His usual calm was tempered by a fierce protectiveness.

Bai Xue took a breath. "Across the eastern valleys and the southern plains, small bands of rogue cultivators have risen." She paused, letting the words settle like stones. "They fight for scraps of territory: abandoned villages, mining outposts, river crossings. They pillage the weak, enslave the defenseless, and vanish before any official force can mobilize. They are desperate—hungry for power."

Madame Bai's pale eyes snapped up. "Surely they would not dare cross the borders into our domain? We have the four families to protect us."

Bai Xue shook her head. "That is exactly why they might dare. Until recently, the Zhao, Yan, Qin, and—in name—the Bai families formed an unspoken coalition. Our combined strength discouraged anyone from testing us. But now—the Qin family has been driven out, and the Yan elders exiled. The Zhao elder was crippled in the uprising. We remain, yes, but alone. The Bai family stands unopposed against any single group, but against a coalition of rogues? We risk being overwhelmed."

A low murmur coursed through the elders. Master Hui thumped his cane against the floor. "Are you certain this threat is directed at Lingyun? Or just opportunists moving through?"

Bai Xue's eyes flicked to Victor, then back to the council. "Word has reached me—and to the merchants on the caravan routes—that Lingyun Town is vulnerable. Our gates have been seen unmanned at odd hours, our patrols thinned. They see a town without its legendary warrior families… and soon without its champion." She looked to Victor and gave a sharp nod. "When the news reached those rogues, they laughed. 'A sleeping tiger,' they called it—'drag its claws and see where it bleeds.'"

Ting Ting's face paled. "You mean they'll strike here? At the person we... that we called savior?"

Chen Wen clenched his fists. "They won't harm him. The Chosen Protector of Lingyun is as close to invincible as any soul can be."

Victor rose, shaking his head. "You misunderstand. These are not fools who plunge into dragon's lair just to die gloriously. They'll test the walls first—soft targets, supply lines, farms outside the gates. They'll undermine the town's strength long before they face me directly."

Master Zhen leaned forward. "Then what do you propose, Xue'er? We cannot rebuild the Zhao or Yan within days. We can't summon the city guard—they will never cross the mountain passes in time."

Bai Xue met each elder's gaze in turn. "We must break the enemy's will before they gather. Strike their camps in the foothills. Show them that Lingyun still bleeds crimson in defense. But for that we need leadership and manpower beyond our own." She turned fully to Victor. "Fang Chen—only you can rally the tempered cultivators of the town and lead the offensive. Your name still carries weight—"

Victor raised a hand. "I appreciate the faith, but I have to return to Blueflame City. My time here in Ascendant Realms is up. Tomorrow morning I must depart."

Silence rippled through the chamber. Madame Bai's jade scepter thudded on her lap. "Depart? After all we've endured?"

Bai Yong's expression flickered between anger and desperation. "You are all we have, young warrior. We begged you to stay for the wedding—please, for Ting Ting's sake—promise us your blade and your heart won't leave Lingyun unguarded."

Bai Ting Ting's voice trembled as she stepped forward. "Fang Chen, you promised exiles safe haven—please don't vanish when we need you most."

Victor looked at each face—young, old, hopeful, fearful—and felt the weight settle again in his gut. "I will not desert you," he said quietly. "But I can only fight this battle on my next return. Tomorrow, when I log back in—Blueflame City awaits me in the morning, and there are pressing matters there. But know this: the moment I return here, I will lead the defense." He met Bai Xue's eyes. "Gather your elders. Secure every approach. Send scouts into the foothills. When I log in—no later than sunset tomorrow—I want camps burned and rogues routed."

Bai Xue inclined her head, relief and urgency mingling on her face. "We will not fail you."

Bai Yong clasped Victor's shoulder. "Go, and may the heavens watch over you. We will be ready."

Victor bowed. "Then let us rest tonight. Tomorrow I depart—and tomorrow I return as you command."

As the assembly disbanded, Chen Wen and tangles of family members escorted Victor back out into the lantern-lit night. Ting Ting slipped a small jade amulet into his palm—a token of the wedding, a reminder of her faith. Bai Xue followed, her pale breath fogging in the cool air.

Outside, the square was deserted save for the overturned benches and a scattering of wedding ribbons. Victor gathered his cloak and slipped back through the carved archway toward the willow-lined path leading to Lingyun Rest.

---

Dawn came sharply. In the real world, Victor awakened with the first chime of the Academy's bells. He sat on the edge of his camp bunk, massaging his temples. Morning routines lay ahead—weighted swims, warrior lectures—but his mind raced with plans for the rogues gathering in the foothills of Lingyun. He steeled himself. His punishment shift awaited: the custodial squad would expect him in the east dormitory wing, mop and scrub-brush in hand.

By midday he had finished his rounds—scrubbing corridors until the academy's advanced cleaning drones beeped him off the schedule. He'd moved through classrooms and dining halls, lifting dirt with void qi to speed the process, all the while his mind ticking off formations, estimates of enemy numbers, strategies for preemptive strikes. The sun hung high, but his thoughts were already across the mountains in Lingyun.

When the final scrub bucket was drained and the last stain vanished from the marble floor, Victor bowed to the cleaning lead and slipped away. Weekend still spared him lectures—he had only a few more hours to savor before he could re-enter Ascendant Realms.

He hurried back to his dorm, boots echoing in the empty hall. Inside, he shed his training cloak, slid underneath the sheets, and placed the VR helmet over his eyes.

With a soft breath, he logged in.

Lingyun Town awaited. And so did the rogues stalking its outskirts.

Tomorrow, he would return to lead the defense. For now, he simply … arrived.

----sss

Victor raised a hand. "I appreciate the faith, but I have to return to Blueflame City. My time here in Ascendant Realms is up. Tomorrow morning I must depart."

Silence rippled through the chamber. Madame Bai's jade scepter thudded on her lap. "Depart? After all we've endured?"

Bai Yong's expression flickered between anger and desperation. "You are all we have, young warrior. We begged you to stay for the wedding—please, for Ting Ting's sake—promise us your blade and your heart won't leave Lingyun unguarded."

Bai Ting Ting's voice trembled as she stepped forward. "Fang Chen, you promised exiles safe haven—please don't vanish when we need you most."

Victor looked at each face—young, old, hopeful, fearful—and felt the weight settle again in his gut. "I will not desert you," he said quietly. "But I can only fight this battle on my next return. Tomorrow, when I log back in—Blueflame City awaits me in the morning, and there are pressing matters there. But know this: the moment I return here, I will lead the defense." He met Bai Xue's eyes. "Gather your elders. Secure every approach. Send scouts into the foothills. When I log in—no later than sunset tomorrow—I want camps burned and rogues routed."

Bai Xue inclined her head, relief and urgency mingling on her face. "We will not fail you."

Bai Yong clasped Victor's shoulder. "Go, and may the heavens watch over you. We will be ready."

Victor bowed. "Then let us rest tonight. Tomorrow I depart—and tomorrow I return as you command."

As the assembly disbanded, Chen Wen and tangles of family members escorted Victor back out into the lantern-lit night. Ting Ting slipped a small jade amulet into his palm—a token of the wedding, a reminder of her faith. Bai Xue followed, her pale breath fogging in the cool air.

Outside, the square was deserted save for the overturned benches and a scattering of wedding ribbons. Victor gathered his cloak and slipped back through the carved archway toward the willow-lined path leading to Lingyun Rest.

---

Dawn came sharply. In the real world, Victor awakened with the first chime of the Academy's bells. He sat on the edge of his camp bunk, massaging his temples. Morning routines lay ahead—weighted swims, warrior lectures—but his mind raced with plans for the rogues gathering in the foothills of Lingyun. He steeled himself. His punishment shift awaited: the custodial squad would expect him in the east dormitory wing, mop and scrub-brush in hand.

Victor's vision snapped into focus on the misty rooftops of Lingyun Town, the first thing he saw the wavering heat haze of distant peaks. Two days had slipped by while he slept in the real world, but here, under the perpetual moonlight of Ascendant Realms, the town had held its breath—and now, it quivered with the promise of violence.

.

He found Bai Xue waiting at the end of the jade-inked bridge, her pale cloak billowing in the night wind. Behind her stood two dozen retainers, young cultivators in early Foundation Establishment robes, their hands on spear butts trembling with anticipation.

"Victor," Bai Xue called softly. "Thank the heavens you're back. We have news."

He stepped off the bridge, boots silent on the carved planks. "Speak."

She gestured, and a guard stumbled forward—blood trickling from his temple—eyes wild. "Another scout," he gasped, voice hoarse. "Late last night, a cultivator appeared atop the east ramparts. Foundation Establishment, late stage—maybe Core Establishment, but not beyond. Beat six guards into bleeding pulp, then laughed. 'Your town's ripe for the plucking,' he said. 'Soon our masters will come.' Then he vanished."

A hush fell, broken only by the guard's rasping breath. Bai Xue's fists clenched. "He defined our fate: we attack or be consumed."

Victor's gaze sharpened. "I have a plan. But first"—he turned to the guard—"detail exactly what you saw." The guard swallowed, then recounted the midnight ambush: the scout's mocking taunts, his rippling qi armors, and the ease with which he shattered shields and bones. Victor listened, nodding once. "That's two groups now. They're probing our defenses, one after the other."

Bai Xue's silver eyes glistened. "Our manpower is… limited. Most of our young are only Qi Refining or below, and aside from you, no Nascent Soul cultivators remain. Ting Ting herself is only Early Foundation Establishment. Even our elders—only Core Establishment. We had presumed safety in obscurity, but now…"

Victor laid a hand on her shoulder. "No longer. Tonight, we reverse the blade's edge." His voice was calm, absolute. "Mobilize every able hand. Set the archers along the ramparts, posted every fifty feet. Have the hidden cultivators stand ready in the southern barracks. Let our scouts—those at least Refining realm—snipe from cover. Then, just before dawn, we strike the scouts' camps beyond the east gate. Catch them off guard, scatter them, reclaim control of the perimeter."

Master Hui, one of the Core Elders, stepped forward. "And if our forces are too weak? We would be attacking on their territory."

Victor's smile was thin. "Which is why I will lead the strike team. I will take out the three scouts one by one. Once their signal qi flares vanish, their masters will hesitate. Then the Bai warriors and town guard can press the advantage and rout them."

Bai Xue hesitated, but something in Victor's gaze—the unyielding calm—gave her courage. "Then do it," she said. "Gather the sweepers, the blacksmiths, any cultivator who can hold a sword. Send them under the walls at dawn." She turned to the two dozen young cultivators. "At my signal, form ranks by the loquat trees. You know your positions."

They bowed, fear shining in their eyes, but bowed all the same.

Victor lingered only a moment more to give final instructions. Then he strode away to the eastern ramparts, scaling them with practiced ease. Below, city walls wrapped Lingyun Town like a protective snake; the eastern approach sloped into shadows and fog—ideal for ambush.

Half an hour later, Victor crouched in the hidden alcove behind the bartizan, cloak pulled tight. He could taste the tension in the air. Beyond the ramparts—just past the broken mule path—lay the first rogue camp, already scouted: three tents, three torches, two sputtering braziers. The faint glow of flames danced on weathered banners.

Suddenly, the night exploded in alarm: a distant trumpet, the ringing alarm bells of Lingyun Town. Victor rose and sprinted toward the breach. Town guard swarmed—but at the eastern wall gate, a lone figure stood, robes battered, aura blazing like a dying star. He had the stance of a hunter: crouched, spear in hand, grin of bloodlust.

"Town's ripe," the man sneered, voice carrying across the courtyard. "Where's your hero now?"

Before the guards could muster, he vaulted the gate in a flicker—like a shadow skipping stone—and dashed into the square. Two guards tried to block him; he laughed, raised a gauntleted fist, and struck them both down in a single arc. Terror rippled through the watchers.

The cloaked man spat. "Tell your masters our forces come—two days at most. We'll tear you down."

He spun, and the courtyard lights flashed in his palm: a swirling blade of condensed qi. The young cultivators screamed and fled for cover.

Then Victor stepped onto the cracked marble fountain ledge, aura flaring to Nascent Soul. The wind died. Flames faltered. The rogue scout froze, eyes widening behind the sway of his dark hair.

"I thought Lingyun had no Nascent Soul Realm protectors left," the scout whispered, voice cracking.

Victor's steps were silent as rippling qi moved around him. Then, in a single motion, he drew his blade. Dark lightning danced along its length, the sword a whip-crack of shadow and lightning. He stepped forward, lance-like.

The rogue raised his palm, summoning his most powerful Foundation Establishment technique—an earth-shattering quake that would have felled plumed cavalry—but Victor only shook his head. He lifted his sword, carving a half-moon slash. Darkness met force: the quake shattered against the sword's perfect arc, splintering into harmless dust.

Blink.

The scout's eyes rolled up. He crumpled.

Victor caught him mid-fall, arms firm, and set him on his feet. The man slumped against the fountain. Blood trickled from his temple.

Victor's voice was calm but heavy. "Tell me where your camp lies."

The scout, fear blazing in his eyes, nodded. "Beyond the eastern ridge—Ironwood Clearing. Two days' march. They'll be waiting."

Victor drew back, stepping away. "Then we march at dawn. For now, you stay." He laid a firm hand on the man's shoulder. "Call your masters. Let them know we're coming."

The scout whimpered, cradling his arm. Victor closed his eyes, letting his aura recede, leaving only footsteps on broken stone.

Below, the town guard rallied. Archers took positions. Lights flickered in the houses as residents peered out, hope blooming in their eyes now that their protector had returned

Victor descended the ramparts, cloak swirling, and rejoined Bai Xue at the willow trees. She saw the scout at his feet and stiffened.

He nodded once. "He'll guide us."

She looked at him, breathless. "You… will lead the strike?"

Victor's silver hair caught the torchlight. "At dawn. We'll catch them off guard." He glanced toward the eastern sky, where faint stars yielded to the coming light. "Lingyun Town will not die."

And as the first hint of daybreak tinged the horizon, both of them knew this was only the beginning of a battle that would decide the fate of the town—and of everyone they loved.

---ss

A pale dawn mist curled around the gnarled trunks of the Ironwood Clearing, staining the air silver and green. Victor paused at the edge of the camp—once an abandoned logging outpost, now the fortress of the Ironhand Marauders. Their ragged banners, black iron fists clawing against crimson fields, snapped in the breeze. Beyond the makeshift palisade, lantern-glow flickered atop watchtowers carved from living oaks. Victor inhaled steady, the mist tasting of wet moss and steel. Around him, two dozen Bai Family guards and young cultivators crouched in formation, grips tight on spears and halberds.

"Names?" he called softly.

"Lieutenant Maro and the Ashen Hawks, at your command," replied Lieutenant Shen, his voice low.

"Good," Victor said, voice carrying like a blade's whisper. "We strike at first light. Our scouts tell me their vice-camps lie in the north and south quadrants. Marsh traps, tripwires, smoke pots—they've prepared for an attack. But they won't be ready for us." He paused, looking each face in turn. "Stay close, follow my mark, and do not let them scatter."

Bai Xue hovered to his side, cloak billowing. "Be careful," she whispered. "They have four Nascent Soul vice-leaders before even reaching their main lord."

Victor nodded. "Which makes this our opportunity: we eliminate their leadership swiftly. Once the vice-leaders fall, their foot soldiers will fracture."

Behind them, the camp stirred to life. Drums rolled in deep rumble—an unspoken signal—and squad leaders moved among the assembled troops to steel nerves. Victor flexed his fingers, summoning wind around his palms. A flicker of electric qi tensed on his blade's edge, a dark promise in the hush.

At his nod, the Bai cultivators surged forward, ghostly shapes in mist. Victor led them through the broken palisade—wood splintering beneath his boots—and into the labyrinth of crude timber huts and stacked crates.

The first sentries were fast asleep, heavy barrels of stale reed wine at their feet. Shen's Ashen Hawks slew them silently, blades nicking throats before moonlight turned crimson. Beyond, three rugged scouts—Foundation Establishment, at least—rushed alarms only to find spear points in their chests.

Victor swept through the camp like a silent gale. Gale Strike unfurled beneath his boots, propelling him in a blur from one hut to the next. He vaulted over gunmetal barrels and landed atop an enemy officer's shoulders, slicing through armor with Shadow Crescent Strike. The sound of metal parting was a command to chaos, and the Ironhand Marauders reeled.

But the unexpected happened: from behind a collapsed supply tent, half a dozen Marauder elites—Foundation Establishment Crow Knights—rushed the Bai line and scattered them. Young cultivators, no match for seasoned rogues, found themselves trampled or spun off into walls. Shen's Hawks bellowed calls for aid as the Crow Knights wove cruel blades through ribs and shoulders.

Victor skidded to a halt, heart thundering. He reached down and touched the flat of his sword, drawing qi lightning along its length. "Dragon's Roar Flame!" he roared, inhaling fiery qi through his fingertips. A torrent of molten flame leapt from his blade, sweeping two Knights off their feet and igniting the tent's thatch in a roar of heat. The sudden conflagration banished the Crow Knights back in a tide of smoke and horror, giving the Bai forces room to breathe.

As the fire crackled, Victor pivoted. "Form ranks!" he called, the words slicing through panic. The Bai guards rallied, shields locking, spears bristling like thorned barricades. Behind them, the Ashen Hawks surged, blades reconvened.

From a timber watchtower, a figure dropped gracefully—a vice-leader named Carin, cloaked in black, arcane runes glowing faintly on his arms. He landed with a silent thud and raised a gauntleted fist. "So much… smoke," he taunted, voice eerily calm. "Let me clear the air."

He pressed his palm to the earth. The ground trembled; dust swirled. Three Bai cultivators lost their footing. Victor wheeled, meeting Carin's narrowed eyes.

"Vice-Leader Carin," Victor greeted, tone amused under the thunder of battle. "Thank you for joining us."

Carin's lips curled. "I thought we might grow bored without a guest of honor."

He released the earthquake, hurling cracked stone shards at the Bai line. Shen's men scattered, shields rising, but the stones battered wood and bone alike.

Victor sprang forward, heart a hammer. He activated Void Severing Thread, weaving a hair-thin filament of void qi through the air. The stone shards shattered against nothingness, littering the dust in harmless ruins. With a leap, Victor closed the gap and swung a Shadow Crescent Strike that carved a slash of darkness across Carin's chest.

The vice-leader stumbled, but not out of breath. He raised his other hand.

On either side of Carin, three more vice-leaders emerged. Vice-Leader Melan, cloaked in shimmering water-blue robes; Vice-Leader Vargos, ivory mask glittering with ice-blue qi; and Vice-Leader Pheon, whose flames danced in his fists. Each Nascent Soul Realm cultivator, each a harbinger of doom.

Victor took a breath of smoky air and met their cold gazes. "I heard you planned to seize Lingyun," he said, voice ringing. "So I decided to come to you first."