I Can Only Cultivate In A Game

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

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He pressed his palm to the earth. The ground trembled; dust swirled. Three Bai cultivators lost their footing.

Victor wheeled, meeting the newcomer's narrowed eyes.

[ System Notification: Warning! New Enemy Identified ]

<[ Vice Leader Carin (Nascent Soul Realm – Mid Stage) ]>

"Vice-Leader Carin," Victor greeted with an amused tone. "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."

They answered with snarls. Melan struck ice-cold water arcs, splintering the earth. Vargos summoned Frost Bloom Seal, unleashing razor blossoms of frost that snapped over Victor's sword arm. Pheon roared Inferno Surge, a flame storm that flicked like scorpions' stings. Carin gathered mud into a new quake.

Victor danced between them, phantom limbs blurred by Phantom Mirage Step, each dodge precise. He parried Vargos's frost with a Dragon's Roar Flame slash, vaporizing ice into steam. He weaved between Melan's water whips, severing them with Void Severing Thread. When Carin lunged with a Cradle of Earth, Victor countered with Gale Strike, sliding under his guard and planting a flaming punch in Pheon's abdomen.

The four staggered back—surprised by the ferocity of his onslaught. Victor stood in the center of the ring, cloak flaring, silhouette burning with qi. "Your camp is already lost," he murmured, voice low. "Tell me where the Marauder Lords are, or I'll tear this place down one vice-leader at a time."

Melan hissed, eyes wild. "You cannot—"

Victor's aura surged. He lifted both palms. Echo Veil Sense rippled outward, seeking their hidden reserves. All pretenses vanished. "You're outmatched." He drew on his final reserve, the bloodline's domain power blooming beneath his feet: Void Domain of Ruin. Space within fifteen paces stuttered like broken glass. The four shook, caught in the terror of imposed reality. Victor closed in, each step fracturing the air.

One more Shadow Crescent Strike, and Carin's mask shattered. A second blow cleaved Melan's water blades to mist. A third savage arc felled Vargos. Pheon's flame sputtered out, scorched by the shockwave of Victor's domain.

They collapsed, ragged and broken, on the blood-soaked ground. Ashen Hawks fanned out, binding the vice-leaders with iron chains.

Victor sheathed his blade, cloak drifting like a shadow. He stooped to lift Carin by the collar. The vice-leader's face was pale beneath mud and sweat. "I guess we'll start with your group," Victor said quietly. "You will take us to your hideout—and the Marauder Lords who sent you."

Carin's eyes flickered with defeat. "The Ironhand Lords... north on the Broken Spine Trail. Three days' march." He coughed. "That's where they hide their warbands."

Victor nodded. "Then we march at dawn. And this time, we finish it."

He glanced across the battered clearing to see Bai Xue's pale face framed by torchlight. Around them, the Ashen Hawks and Bai guards gathered the fallen Marauders, weapons abandoned, the wind already carrying word to the camp.

Victor turned back to the four vice-leaders. "Inform them: Lingyun Town is not ripe, and it never will be."

He strode from the clearing, shoulders set, each footstep echoing a promise. The night was far from over—but the first stone had been cast.

And the storm he had summoned would crash upon the Ironhand Marauders before they knew what struck them.

---sss

The four Vice Leaders of the Ironhand Marauders rose from the smoky haze of the shattered clearing, each aura crackling in malignant harmony. Melan's water whips lashed at the broken timbers, twisting them into ice-glazed scythes; Vargos's Frost Bloom Palm bloomed in frosted petals of qi that splintered stone; Pheon's Inferno Surge roared like a volcano's heart, lighting scorched embers in every breath; and Carin's Earth Quake stomped hollows into the shaken earth beneath Victor's feet.

Victor stood at the center of the ruined camp, sword in hand, cloak whipping around him as the four vice-leaders advanced in coordinated rhythm—a deadly quartet whose combined force threatened to crush any resistance. The sky above was choked with ash, the air thick with the stench of ozone and splintered wood.

"Together," Melan hissed, water circling her knuckles like a serpent's coil.

Vargos nodded, petals of frost shimmering on his palms. Pheon's grin was a slash of flame. Carin's eyes flickered with earth's fury.

Victor inhaled, qi humming. He activated Wind Barrier, a swirling cocoon of vortex air that snapped aside Melan's first water lash. The frozen scythe shattered against the barrier, spray of ice drenching the scorched ground.

He burst forward, boots barely touching earth. Beneath his palm, the rune of the Frost Bloom Palm ignited. As Vargos lunged with a frosted fist, Victor caught the attack at the wrist—wood and ice crackled and silver petals of qi flowered across Vargos's arm. The effect was immediate: the circulation of Vargos's qi stuttered, slowed. Frost crept along his veins, turning pulses sluggish. Vargos staggered back, breath trembling as Victor pivoted.

"Cold… too cold," Vargos gasped, frost etching his brows.

Before Vargos could recover, Victor swept his sword in a half-moon arc and leapt away with Phantom Mirage Step, vanishing into a shadowed blur.

He reappeared behind Pheon, who was coiling a sphere of molten flame. Victor dropped lower, raising both palms for Skyfire Spiral—a corkscrew of blazing qi and wind. The torrent of spiraling flame caught Pheon mid-thrust, ripping through his flame sphere and blasting him through a collapsed hut. The guttural roar of the impact echoed across the clearing.

But the vice-leaders were far from beaten. Melan's water whips reformed in a flick of her wrist, coiling around Victor's ankles as he tried to dash toward Carin. He smashed a foot into Melan's knee, shattering the whip and sending shards of mana-laden water careening harmlessly into the sky. Yet another vice-leader, the earth-wielding Carin, her foot raised in a tremor of Earth Quake, caused the ground to surge beneath Victor's boots. Victor felled himself into a roll, the seismic surge rolling harmlessly overhead as he sprang upright.

Carin attacked, a hammer of gravel and soil, and Victor held his sword to intercept—steel sparking against iron-rich stone. He kicked off Carin's chest, exploiting the momentary opening, then dashed to the battered shields of the Bai guards, buying himself a split-second's cover.

All four vice-leaders struck again in perfect synchronicity: Pheon's flame spiral, Vargos's slow-motion frost petals, Melan's water fang barrage, Carin's tremoring earth spears. The clearing erupted into a chaos of elements—fire devouring wood, frost cracking stone, water scouring dust, earth upheaving shattered foundations.

Victor danced between the storms, Wind Barrier flaring whenever he needed cover, Phantom Mirage Step blurring his silhouette out of harm's way. But each dodge sapped his reserves; each counterstrike consumed precious qi. He felt the pounding of his heart, the slick of his sweat.

He crossed the distance to Vargos again and slammed his palm into the vice-leader's chest, this time a concentrated Dragon's Roar Flame to override the frost bloom. The blast cleaved through the petals, turning them to steam before they could freeze his qi fully. Vargos cried out, staggered backward, and crashed into the remains of a stockade.

Melan charged next, water whip lashing, but Victor shattered it with Void Severing Thread, then Shadow Crescent Strike split her mana chains as if tearing cloth. She fell in a heap of sprayed mist, gurgling curses.

Carin and Pheon—two left. Carin's boots crushed fresh earth, sending jagged pillars up toward Victor's stomach. Victor ducked, holding the blade at his side to parry the jagged pillar with the Void Domain of Ruin—space itself buckled around the strike, warping Carin's footwork so he stumbled.

Pheon lunged, flame wings unfurled. Victor stepped into the gust, absorbing the heat with Wind Barrier and retaliating with a Dragon's Roar Flame, the dual rage of fire and void liquefying Pheon's defenses. The massive flame knockback sent Pheon sliding across broken masonry.

Victor stood alone amid the ruin, sword tip dripping embers onto grass. He allowed himself a single breath before Bai Xue's voice cut through the aftermath.

"Enough!" she called, stepping into the clearing. Cerulean robes trailing behind her, she raised her hands and chanted an incantation of jamming. Her fingers wove a lattice of silver runes in the air. The vice-leaders, battered and smoking, found their qi channels seized. Their cultivation realms flickered, collapsing from Nascent Soul to helpless Foundation Establishment as their energy rolled up like retreating tides.

"No mercy," Bai Xue declared. "You will not leave this place." She flicked her wrist, the jamming seals solidifying on their brows, pinning their qi at the lowest ebb.

At that moment, a tremor ran through the clearing—earth itself shuddered. In the distance, atop a shattered tower, a phantom silhouette formed: the Marauder Lord himself, veiled in mist. His robes were the color of void, his hair like a starless sky. A single silver sword hung at his hip, perfectly still. The clearing hushed as he drifted down, barely touching ground.

Bai Xue met his gaze. "So, you finally show your face."

Before she could utter more, he flicked his palm. A ghostly blade of anti-qi sprang forward, slicing through the air with uncanny silence. Bai Xue had only milliseconds to react; the blade struck her chest and sent her flying against a jagged mountain spur beyond the clearing. She crashed into stone with a resounding crack, tumbling down the slope in a shower of dust and petals.

Victor's heart lurched. He sprang forward, using Wind Dash to vault the smashed crater where Bai Xue had stood. The Marauder Lord pivoted, golden eyes flashing as he brought his sword into a flawless Spectral Mooncut—a cultivation martial technique taught only to peak Nascent Soul warriors. The blade arced like liquid silver.

Victor spun his sword into the slash, meeting the strike with a Shadow Crescent Parry. Sparks of void and soul qi chattered as the two swords locked. The shockwave of their collision rippled outward, cracking nearby trees and sending splinters raining.

The Marauder Lord's lips curved in surprise. "You—your qi… it's physical." He pressed forward, sinews flashing in ghost-light. "No mere illusionist."

Victor grunted, stepping back but holding the line. "Don't mistake physical power for emptiness. I command both." He flicked his wrists, unleashing a flurry of Silent Crane Steps, each strike of blade cloaked in void qi—attacks invisible until they cut flesh. One moment the Lord saw nothing; the next, a pale slash across his sleeve.

The Lord scowled, surging qi upward in a flourish of Soul Blade Dance—a set of cultivation martial techniques that bent the perception of onlookers, each strike flickering in and out of sight. Victor's Nascent Soul perception strained to track them. He countered with the newly unlocked Crescent Dragon Step, dancing his feet in a spiral that blurred his form, each movement twitching the fabric of space so the Lord's strikes passed through empty air.

Victor summoned his final reserve: Echo Veil Sense overlaid with his Void Domain flicker. He slipped beneath the Lord's guard, repositioning in midair with his bloodline's power, and landed behind him. He twisted his blade in a Phantom Moon Slash, carving a hollow in the Lord's robes, slicing muscle and qi conduit.

The Marauder Lord staggered under the brutal assault—blood blossoming on his pale skin. He stared at Victor, panting. "You… you are beyond any Nascent Soul I have known. But I am the Titan of the Depths." He extended both hands, drawing upon the souls of fallen disciples.

Flames of shadow and bone flickered at his fingertips as he prepared a Soul Rupture Burst—a devastating attack that would rend spirit and flesh alike.

Victor's eyes narrowed. He had no answer for a soul-based onslaught; his own soul defenses were raw. He raised his blade, drawing every ounce of void qi to form a flickering Void Shield at the last possible moment.

The Lord unleashed the burst. A wave of rancid energy howled across the clearing, fire and death intertwined. Victor's void shield flared and crackled under the strain, but the edges held. The blast battered him back, tearing at cloak and flesh. Trees snapped, earth heaved.

When the soul blast finally faded, Victor sagged, sword hilt pressing into ash, chest burning. The Marauder Lord staggered, wounded deeper by the clash of mortal steel on soul fire. Both warriors stood breathless, framed by the wreckage of the clearing, rivulets of blood mingling with smoke and dust.

Around them, Bai Xue—bloodied but alive—rose to her knees, eyes wide with fierce pride. The vice-leaders, bound and broken, watched in awe as their lord and the town's champion faced off, sword to sword, under a sky flickering with raven-winged clouds.

The duel had only just begun.

And Lingyun Town would tremble on the knife's edge between victory and ruin—held aloft by the blade of one man's unyielding will.

---sss

The dawn breeze carried a tang of iron as Bai Xue and her squad of Ashen Hawks returned to Lingyun's north gate, dragging the broken remnants of the Ironhand Marauders' hideout behind them. The scattered bodies of defeated rogues lay in the wagon bed, still slick with mana burn marks and scorched earth. Without a word, Bai Xue knelt atop the wheelbox, drawing her slender blade. With one swift slice, she decapitated each corpse, tilting their empty skulls into her waiting hands.

Victor watched in grim silence as she pressed each severed head onto a stout wooden stake. The blood-rimed stakes were then planted one by one in the soft earth along the outer perimeter of the gate. As Bai Xue positioned the last head—complete with a mocking grin frozen in death—Victor felt the chill of the tableau. A warning, etched in gore, to any who might seek to storm Lingyun Town.

Behind them, the banners of the Bai family fluttered against the copper gate, their jade-crane sigils newly bright. "Let this be the first of many," Bai Xue said, voice low, lips curving in satisfaction. "Let every rogue know that Lingyun's walls bleed for those who dare breach them."

Victor returned her gaze with somber approval. "They will scare off half the marauders in the eastern ridges."

As Bai Xue and the Ashen Hawks departed, Victor turned back to the ruins of the Marauders' camp. The wreckage of shattered tents and splintered wood lay underfoot, and the morning light glinted off discarded weapons and broken talismans. Viktor knelt and began to gather the spoils: steel-edged chakrams etched with cursed runes, leather pouches of smoky quartz to fuel shadow spells, and intricately carved totems bound with fading spirit qi—trophies of a warband's ill-gotten gains.

In a battered chest tucked beneath a collapsed canopy, he found a small, intricately carved ebony box bound by bands of cold steel. Every lock and latch defied his efforts: his fingers danced across seals, his breath infused Void Severing Thread at the seams, even his Dragon's Roar Flame whispered warmth against the metal. Yet the box remained sealed, silent, mocking. When Victor touched the lid, his vision flickered with a system prompt:

[ Mystery Box ]

Contents: Unknown

Unlock Method: ? ? ? ?

He frowned. "Great," he murmured. "Another puzzle." The box would wait.

Nearby lay rolls of parchment—deeds, contracts, tax records stamped with seals from the neighboring villages of Willowbrook, Emberford, and Stormhollow. Each deed was signed by Marauder magistrates who had extorted those towns under threat of iron-fist rule. Even a collection of counterfeit spirit-coin ledgers lay mixed with small wooden stamps bearing the Ironhand crest. Victor straightened, mind already working the angles.

A notification pinged in his vision:

[ New Objective ]

Return stolen goods to Willowbrook, Emberford, and Stormhollow. Restore their rightful owners.

Victor gathered the deeds and the stack of keys—heavy iron rings passed through the parchments—and slung them over his shoulder. He tucked the Mystery Box into his cloak's inner pocket and strode back toward the gate, where a battered guard offered a respectful bow. "They won't bother us again," the guard said.

Victor nodded. "Not if we finish the job." He mounted his riding beast—a sleek, narrow-muzzled dire stag gifted by Bai Xue's retainers—and galloped eastward along the old trade road.

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Delivering Justice to Willowbrook

The first stop was Willowbrook, a riverside village whose wooden palisade had been battered by Marauder raids. As Victor neared the broken gate, villagers clustered at the ramparts—some wide-eyed with hope, others wary of yet another stranger bearing gifts. Victor reined in his mount and called out, "Fang Chen of Lingyun Town. I have what was stolen from your village."

A middle-aged woman in soot-streaked robes clutched her son's hand and approached. Victor presented her the deed to the village mill: a torn parchment stained with mud. "Your mill's ownership is restored," he announced. She broke into tears and embraced the document. Behind her, a group of craftsmen hurried forth, carrying battered sacks of grain and ruined milling stones—surplus provisions Og territory was forced to send to the Marauders. Victor allocated them to the millwrights and watched as the villagers set about repairing their gate and mill in renewed fervor.

"Thank you," the woman sobbed. "Lingyun will always be our ally."

---

Freedom for Emberford

Next was Emberford, set atop a windswept mesa plateau. The entrance was flanked by cracked sandstone columns and tumbleweed. Victor dismounted, raising a polished steel seal stamped with the town's emblem—two crossed hammers on a blood-red field. "This seal was used to extort your forge," he told the blacksmith guild master, a burly man with ash-white hair. "It belongs to you now."

As the seal changed hands, Victor produced a pouch of spirit-coin ledgers—each entry erased, debts forgiven at a single stroke of his sword's hilt. The guild master roared his gratitude, bellowing to assembled forges to resume their work. Iron hissed in roaring furnaces once more, and the clang of hammer on anvil rang in the crisp air—an anthem of newfound liberty.

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Rescuing Stormhollow

The final stop lay through dense, drizzling woods to Stormhollow—a mountain hamlet renowned for harvests of rare rain lilies. Marauder thugs had commandeered their granaries and imposed heavy grain tariffs. Victor arrived as twilight fell, the villagers huddled under dripping eaves. He held aloft a set of battered grain scales and the original distribution ledgers, now bearing the rightful Stormhollow crest. "The taxes you paid to marauders—returned to you," he declared.

A tall elder stepped forward, gnarled staff in hand. "We feared our lilies would rot under the weight of their demands. You have saved our seeds—and our children's futures."

He pressed the scales into Victor's palm, bowing in deference.

With three villages restored, Victor felt a warmth spread through his chest. The road back to Lingyun Town took him through moonlit pines, each rustle of leaf a reminder of the peace he had forged.

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A Hero's Rewards

When he returned to Lingyun Town two days later, system notifications bloomed in his vision:

[ Reputation Increased: +500 ]

[ Achievement Unlocked: Champion of the Three Towns ]

[ Reward: 100,000 Wisps of Qi ]

[ Reward: "Justice's Scale" Bloodline Enhancement ]

The townsfolk cheered as Victor rode into the square; children waved torches, and elders knelt to touch the hem of his cloak. Bai Xue approached, offering him a flask of sweet mead. "Well done," she said, voice proud. "You've given hope back to three villages."

Victor winked. "All in a day's ride." He set the Mystery Box on a stone bench. "Now, to unlocking this."

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A Return to the Valley

The cheers faded into the nightsong of crickets as Victor looked to the eastern road. Only three days remained before the Ascendant Realms session would end for him. He had one final priority: to meet Tarkos and continue his cultivation in the Valley of Qi Eddies—the place he had first spawned in this realm.

The next morning, he mounted a swift-gray cloudhorse—gifted by the grateful Emberford Guild—and galloped toward the valley. The landscape shifted from rolling fields to rugged limestone peaks, the air thick with rising qi. The Valley of Qi Eddies lay concealed beneath drifting mists, a sunken basin where petals of azure energy danced like will-o'-wisps above jade-wet grass.

There, on a smooth granite slab beside the swirling eddy-pool, stood Tarkos—lean, sharply dressed in assassin's black leathers, twin daggers at his hips. His back rippled with inky tattoos that sprang to life as Victor approached. Tarkos's pale smile was as cold as moonlight.

"Fang Chen," he said, voice echoing across the eddy. "You returned just in time."

Victor dismounted, gripping Tarkos's extended hand. "Three days left," he replied, stepping into the swirling qi. "Let's make them count."

And so, beneath the towering cliffs and amid the shimmering spirals of primal energy, Victor and Tarkos sat in silent vow. Tomorrow, the warbands beyond the Broken Spine Trail would learn that Lingyun's champion was not merely a phantom of legend—but a force that reshaped the very world around him.

In the Valley of Qi Eddies, time itself slowed under the influence of Victor's Void Emperor domain. And in those gentle, stretched hours, he would refine the arts he had won, readying himself for the trials to come—both in Ascendant Realms and the world he would soon return to at dawn's first bell.

---sss

The Valley of Qi Eddies lay hushed under a blanket of dawn mist as Victor Revenant closed his eyes and sank into the final wave of cultivation. For three days—virtually twenty-one in the realm of Ascendant Realms—he had remained within his Void Emperor domain, folding space and time around himself to amplify every heartbeat of learning. His qi had soared, his Void Bloodline integration crept from 62% to a threshold unspoken yet palpable in the tremor of his aura. Tarkos had guided him through hidden pathways of Void Silksmanship, teaching him to weave pockets of null-space into his strikes.

But now, the final moment had arrived. Victor opened his eyes and felt the air pulse against his skin—a reminder that even the greatest feats must end. He rose from the granite slab, stretching limbs humming with newfound potency. Across the swirling eddy-pool, Tarkos waited, daggers sheathed, tattoos glimmering with anticipation.

Victor approached, extracting the polished brass fragment of the Anchor Disk from his girdle. "This is it," he said, holding it out. "When I log out, you'll be alone in Blueflame City. Use this. It will teleport you to the Violet Springs Sect, and I'll be there."

Tarkos nodded, slipping the disk fragment into his pocket. "Safe travels, Fang Chen. I'll see you soon."

Victor smiled—wry, brief. "One last stop."

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