I Hate Cultivators: Becoming a Mage in the Cultivation World

As the double doors parted, Constantine stepped into a chamber lined with rows of stone benches, reminiscent of the lecture halls from his old life. The young boy walked in, trying to keep his expression calm, polite, and humble.

His curious gaze swept across the room, noting seven elderly men scattered over the benches. His heartbeat quickened, and sweat covered his palms as his eyes landed on the large chair at the back, resembling a small throne.

An elderly man sat sprawled there like a king, his skin vibrant despite his white hair. His richly decorated robe was embroidered with silver thread, and his presence radiated a faint yet discernible energy.

'A cultivator,' Constantine thought.

He hurriedly bowed his head, recalling his teacher's instructions, and cleared his throat. His voice echoed through the chamber: "Master of mortal knowledge and senior scholars, it is my honor to submit new knowledge to you."

Momentarily, Constantine's gaze brushed off the cultivator, feeling something he hadn't felt before. He could feel the warmth, akin to the warmth coursing through his body when cultivating, radiating out of the white-haired cultivator like the heat from a furnace.

In quick realization, he analyzed the observation, 'Qi Adaptation stage. Its purpose is to increase my sensitivity and give me control over this energy.'

<>

While he pondered, one of the scholars, an old, stout man, snickered, his gaze drilling into the boy. " Asmodeo, have you finally gone senile? Why have you brought a child to this meeting?" He turned to face Constantine's teacher, who stood calmly by his seat.

Another scholar, younger and in his thirties, spoke kindly "A new pupil of yours, Asmodeo?"

"Silence. We shall judge the new knowledge after it is presented, not before." The cultivator, presumably the master of mortal knowledge—an overly pompous title in Constantine's opinion—commanded, silencing the room.

His teacher, standing from his seat, bowed in the cultivator's direction "The child, Constantine, will present in my stead, my legs are weak and my health fragile. He has the right, as he has assisted me with the efforts of my discovery."

"You may begin, but I warn you, do not waste my time." The cultivator waved, a bored expression donning his face.

Constantine's palms were damp with sweat, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he took his spot beside the wide and smooth stone slate and began. 'Stay calm,' he reminded himself, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Ahem, as you may know, the current method of calculating areas of complex geometric shapes is through grid approximation."

He grabbed a piece of white charcoal and drew a diamond on the stone pane beside him.

"However, this problem can be solved much more efficiently for shapes with straight-edged walls." He demonstrated, splitting the diamond just as he had shown Asmodeo.

All eyes were fixed on him; the earlier ridicule was replaced by silent interest. Constantine continued, drawing more shapes and dividing them into triangles and squares. The entire time, he remained calm, even though he felt all the eyes on his back.

"As you can see, this method isn't limited only to a single shape but can be applied in various situations."

Finally, he exhaled, his heart still racing. He bowed politely, hoping his efforts would be enough to convince them. But seeing the focused eyes of the scholars, he knew it worked. Even though for him, as a person born into an advanced society, it was simple and obvious, to the people of this world, it was a new and fresh look at the old problem.

"Truly interesting," said the previously rude fat scholar, his voice now filled with passion. "I am even shocked that someone as young could contribute to your teacher's discovery.."

The room buzzed with sudden energy. The scholars leaned toward one another, their voices a mixture of excitement and disbelief.

"Did you see the simplicity of his method?" one elderly scholar whispered to his colleague. "It's revolutionary."

"Indeed," the fat scholar said, tapping his fingers together thoughtfully. "This method could change our approach to geometry entirely."

The younger scholar, who had spoken kindly earlier, nodded. "Imagine the implications for architecture and engineering. This method could streamline our processes significantly."

Constantine watched with slight amusement, reminded of his years as a student and the world he had left behind. Despite being in a more barbaric and less advanced society, he saw that these scholars shared a genuine hunger for knowledge, just like himself.

At last, the master of mortal knowledge raised his hand, commanding silence. Constantine gulped, unsure of what to expect. This part was too different from his old world.

"I have made my decision." His words resonated through the room with authority, his gaze drilling into everyone present. "The new knowledge which was submitted to this council is considered to be safe for mortals and is hereby allowed to be studied, spread, and learned by them."

The words struck an invisible chord within the boy, bringing bile up his throat. He struggled to keep his face calm as he finally realized the cultivator's role in this.

'These fuckers are censoring knowledge!' He thought, his anger boiling within him. Yet, knowing he had to keep his composure, he bowed politely "Thank you for your time, master of mortal knowledge."

Asmodeo walked over and placed a reassuring hand on Constantine's shoulder, bowing toward the scholars. "Thank you for your praise, I am honored to contribute to the knowledge of our civilization."

Constantine smiled, following with his own bow, though his mind was still reeling from the realization about the cultivator's control over knowledge. He pushed the thought aside for now, focusing on the positive outcome of the day.

As the scholars started to file out of the chamber, the boy and his teacher followed, and just as they exited the council chamber, the stout scholar, who had initially ridiculed Constantine, approached him.

"You have a remarkable mind, young man," he said, his voice surprisingly warm. "I apologize for my earlier skepticism. I must admit, I am impressed."

Constantine bowed slightly. "Thank you, sir."

The stout scholar nodded thoughtfully. "I am Scholar of Numbers, Julius Yuan. Perhaps you would like to join me and your master for a meeting on Sunday afternoon? Just a small circle of scholars interested in the exploration of numbers and their implications."

Constantine's eyes lit up at the invitation. "I would be honored."

His plan had worked better than he thought. 'I have gained a reputation amidst the scholars.' He needed that identity—an identity that would allow him to gather smart people, acquire monster body parts, and search for information without arousing any suspicion.

After realizing the likely censorship of information, and putting it together with the urban myth of enforcers—cultivators hunting demonic and unorthodox cultivators—he knew that the current establishment might not like what he was going to do.

'Those in power never like the change of status quo.'

An excited shout echoed through the vast halls of the city's magistrate: "The Lord is coming back! Immortal Empire has won the war!"

Everyone around paused momentarily, as if petrified, before erupting into cheers.

Constantine, feeling like something important was going to happen, looked at the man who shouted; a soldier in heavy leather armor, panting, sweat dripping from him as if he had run the entire way there.

'So the war ended.' Constantine didn't know what it meant, as the war had been going on since the first day he awakened within this body. At least, with the victory on their side, he could be assured it wouldn't make things worse than they already were.

The soldier, noticing the small crowd gathering around, straightened his back, looking at them with pride obvious in his expression, "The city lord will reach the city in a single week of time!" he announced, "A triumph and celebration of the victory will be organized. Bread and wine will be distributed to the folk!"

'Might be interesting; at least, I will see the one who rules this city.' Constantine, was genuinely interested, raising his finger as he pondered how powerful the ruler was.

Later the same evening:

Constantine, the warmth coursing through his entire being, sat relaxed, cross-legged, on his bed. It had already become a regular affair for him, to practice every evening.

Grasping the warm feeling within him, he directed a river-like surge toward his lungs. The burning sensation turned into pain, his eyes opening wide, shining like a pair of golden stars.

His lungs were on fire, the pain growing more intense. Yet, in its wake, a fresh, rejuvenating sensation spread, making him gradually calm his breathing and soothe the burning energy within his lungs.

His face contorted into a grinning grimace as he clasped his hands together, the feeling of accomplishment bringing him pure joy. 'I've done it; I've got full control over the energy within my body.'

He had finally completed the first milestone of cultivation: Qi Adaptation. Now he could proceed to the second stage of purifying his body, using the energy to cleanse himself from within.

With the heat in his lungs extinguished, he took a deep breath. The air felt fresher than ever, and his breathing was light and effortless. The difference wasn't huge, but it was noticeable.

'The second stage. Now I will have to fully purify my lungs and all my organs.' He didn't know how long it would take, but time was on his side, especially after sensing the cultivator's aura in the council room.

He frowned at the implication, realizing his initial plans might have to be altered. 'If I can feel his aura, then, once my own grows strong enough, they might feel it too.' With his current information, he couldn't tell if it would lead to trouble, but for now, he didn't have any solution.

A text flashed in the corner of his vision, breaking him out of his deep thoughts.

<<------------>>

The long-term task is partially completed; enough data has been collected to measure and calculate mana accurately.

<<------------>>

Constantine, pondering the message floating in front of his eyes, decided to see the results. 'Implant, show me the full evaluation of the energy within my body.'

<<------------>>

Current amount: 0.8

Maximal capacity: 1

Energy concentration: 1

<<------------>>

Realizing the device used his current status as the baseline for the scale, he instructed, 'Implant, use the recorded energy radiation of the master of knowledge as the reference for one unit.'

<<------------>>

Current amount: 0.08

Maximal capacity: 0.1

Energy concentration: 0.9

<<------------>>

Attentively reading through the report, the boy's eyes widened, as it was yet another proof of his conjecture. Even though the increase in the amount of energy between him and that cultivator was at least tenfold—possibly more if the cultivator somehow suppressed the radiation—the energy concentration remained almost the same.

Constantine, not daring to draw premature conclusions, shook his head, knowing he needed even more data. 'I need to see a monster.'

He flinched, the image of the burned corpses and the blood pooling on the ground flashing before his eyes, while the suffering screams of pain and terror resonated through his mind, making his stomach churn.

Even though he paled at the memories of the monster attack, he knew that he needed to see a monster, preferably a living one, and one with a core.

The data he could gain from its radiation would either finally confirm or refute his theory. It was something he had to do.

Lifting his arm to see it better and seeing how thin and scrawny it was, he knew he wouldn't stand even a single chance against firebats.

Pondering, he quickly found a solution. 'A different monster. Preferably a weak one, something which could easily be avoided, yet still has a core.'

Sadly, he lacked enough knowledge about the monsters living near the city. Nonetheless, his lips parted in a weak smile. He wasn't anybody; he was an apprentice scholar, and if there was something he had access to, it was information.

'Under the guise of study, I can search the library, maybe even question some people, and identify an ideal monster and its habitat.'