Cultivation Nerd-Chapter 228: The Scar

After a cold, restless night just outside the forest, the pale light of dawn crept over the horizon like a pale beam against the darkened sky.

The camp stirred quickly. Fires were snuffed out, and belongings were gathered in heavy silence. Breath curled visibly in the frosty air, and the morning sun's faint warmth barely touched the lingering chill.

With the sun rising, the forest ahead came into clearer view. Skeletal trees stretched upward, their frost-covered branches catching the light like shards of glass. The crunch of frozen snow underfoot was sharp in the stillness, and the only sound accompanying us. Even with the added light, the forest felt wrong.

The night before, their conversations had been vibrant and full of boisterous life; now, they were nothing more than quiet whispers.

We were in monstrous beast territory, and the less noise, the better.

No one was smiling. Faces were solemn, their expressions lined with exhaustion. The camaraderie and light-hearted banter of the night before had vanished. Judging by their tired eyes, many hadn't slept well.

I couldn't blame them. My chest felt just as heavy, weighed down by knowing what lay ahead. A battle where I'd have to kill and might even be killed.

A cold wind swept through the trees, scattering snowflakes that blurred our vision. The sky darkened, and we slowed our pace. The icy terrain was treacherous, the branches slick with frost. Scouts had gone ahead to check for ambushes, forcing the rest of us to move cautiously in their wake.

It was all so deliberate, so methodical. I stayed in line, watching the veterans move with practiced efficiency. They knew what they were doing. I was here to follow, not to lead.

But something felt different today. The cold, which I'd learned to ignore long ago, gnawed at me, settling into my bones. It wasn't the weather. The tension, the fear, it was starting to get to me.

I'd killed before. Too many times to count. Well, not too many to count, but I just never bothered counting. And I knew others would try to kill me in return. It was a simple truth, the way of things. But I didn't want to die. I couldn't say why, and it didn't matter why. I just didn't want to die.

I took a deep breath and forced those thoughts aside, burying them deep. This wasn't the time to get lost in existential musings. Questions about life and purpose could cost me precious seconds in battle. And in a cultivator's fight, hesitation meant death.

..

We pressed on, the snowy forest stretching endlessly before us. By midday, I sensed our "allies" before I saw them. They weren't waiting for us, and they were moving too.

Strange pulses of Qi rippled from our elders and clan leader, their way of communicating with the other clans. When we finally stopped, it wasn't in some landmarked clearing, just another patch of frozen trees and snow. The sun had risen higher, softening the chill, but the unease remained.

While others shifted warily, watching the approaching clans, my grandfather wore a sly grin. He spat into his hands and rubbed them together.

Gross! Why did he even do that?

The other clans arrived soon enough. I had expected uniforms, colors, something to set them apart. But there was nothing. Faces were my only guide, and I knew I'd have to memorize them fast. Or, in the chaos, I might end up killing one of my own clan members.

Shit, some dumb ass cousin of mine might end up being the one to kill me! I might have to rethink my plan for the upcoming battle. Having something as minor as uniform colors overhaul some of my plans was annoying in its own way.

Most of these plans, I had scheemed for days to come up with them. But they were ruined as soon as I saw the “allies”.

But I couldn’t keep dwelling on such things for too long, and brushed them aside and concentrated on the strongest people here.

The Fu and Liu Clan leaders were middle-aged, or at least appeared so, while the Jie Clan leader looked ancient. They greeted each other with polite smiles that didn't reach their eyes, the civility thinly masking their animosity.

Grandfather, meanwhile, was shaking hands left and right with the Fu Clan members, grinning all the while. Handshaking wasn't a common custom here; although they hid it well, many Fu Clan members who shook my grandfather’s hand looked uncomfortable.

Oh, so that was why he spat on his hand before meeting them.

I stayed back, watching the crowd. The clans mingled with an almost forced camaraderie as if trying to convince themselves of the alliance. If I hadn't known better, I might've believed it too.

Liu Bo eventually broke away from my grandfather and found me. He approached quietly, his gaze flicking over the crowd before speaking.

"I'm surprised Elder Nu is getting along so well with the Fu Clan," he said. "He even called his hand-shaking an ancient ritual of putting aside differences and working together. I thought he hated them. Guess he can put that aside when it counts."

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"Yes, he can be… pragmatic when it suits him," I replied, struggling for the right word. My grandfather might have just invented the 'ritual' to be an asshole.

Liu Bo nodded toward a group of younger cultivators. "Looks like some of the people who were in the scouting group with us survived. Heard they split up so the Thunder Wolf couldn't chase them all."

"Smart," I said, though my thoughts wandered.

Those scouts might hold a grudge someday. I was making enemies without even meaning to.

My gaze swept over the mingling clans and landed on someone I hadn't expected. Fu Yating. Her brown eyes met mine across the crowd for a split second, for that brief moment her gaze was steady and unflinching. But she wasn't the same as before. A faint scar ran from her shoulder to her jaw.

It wasn't the kind of scar that screamed for attention or stood out too much, but it told its story nonetheless. The injury had healed well, or it seemed that way from this distance. Cultivators had sharp vision, but it wasn't perfect.

An injury like that for a Body Tempering cultivator was more than cosmetic. It could stunt progress, even reverse it. Some never recovered, their bodies too weak to reach the threshold of Qi Gathering.

Why had they brought her here? This was something way out of her league.

I had guesses about why her clan would do something like this. None of them were pleasant. It was a grim fate for a girl like her. But without proof, they were just speculations, and for now, it was best to keep my thoughts to myself. For all I knew, she could be faking those injuries. Fu Yating had always been calculating and only a fool would underestimate a woman like her.

As if sensing my gaze, Fu Yating turned toward me. When she caught me staring, she smiled and waved. The gesture was polite enough, but her smile didn't reach her eyes.

We continued our march as a large group, the mingling of clans making us clumsier and slower than before. Liu Bo stayed close by my side, casting glances at me now and then as if waiting for me to say something. I didn't.

Liu Bo was likely the next in line to inherit my grandfather's position. That role should have fallen to me by blood and talent, but I didn't mind. I may need to bind myself to a sect or clan to gain certain knowledge. Perhaps even take on the title of elder. If I was going to be shackled, though, I preferred my chains to be gilded. The Liu Clan was too small for my ambitions.

Under other circumstances, I might have reassured Liu Bo, told him not to worry about it and that I supported my grandfather's decision. But this wasn't the time for such sensitive conversations.

My gaze shifted back to Fu Yating, who was struggling to keep up with the group. Her face was flushed, her breathing labored, and beads of sweat clung to her brow. She looked exhausted, and in a weather and expedition like this it was deadly.

Why had the Fu Clan brought her here? She was still just a Body Tempering Cultivator, clearly out of her depth. My little fiancée getting involved in battles like this was reckless at best and suicidal at worst.

I sighed, brushing away my boredom for a moment as I moved to the tail of the group where she lagged behind. Like a shadow by my side, Liu Bo followed silently, always one step behind. He was surprisingly inconspicuous when he wanted to and blended into the crowd.

Fu Yating might have been scheming, but at the end of the day, she was still just a kid.

What was she now? Sixteen? Seventeen? We were the same physical age; perhaps she was a year younger.

"Need some help?" I asked, matching her pace.

She turned toward me, her eyes misty. Up close, I noticed her face was damp with sweat, her hair matted and wet. In this cold, that was an invitation for trouble.

Before she could answer, I summoned a translucent jade box, its surface shimmering faintly with an ethereal glow. With a flick of my wrist, the barrier enveloped her, lifting her slightly off the ground. She didn't struggle, though her gaze pierced through the shimmering walls like a silent challenge.

That seemed to snap her out of her exhaustion. She stared at me for a long moment without saying anything.

If she wasn't going to talk, neither would I. Some of the other cultivators shot us curious glances, but no one intervened. At the end of the day, she was supposed to be my wife.

Finally, she broke the silence. "You're unexpectedly soft-hearted."

I met her gaze through the jade's faint glow. The scar on her shoulder was visible even beneath a layer of makeup, its angry red edges unmistakable. It wasn't the kind of burn left by fire since the skin wasn't melted. It looked more like the aftermath of lightning: a brief, intense heat that seared but didn't destroy.

Scars like that weren't uncommon among cultivators, especially with creatures like Lightning Wolves around. But as far as I knew, there hadn't been any Lightning Wolves nearby, except for the one time we scouted ahead. There was a chance she might have encountered one while returning from the Azure Frost Sect, but I doubted it. The Azure Frost Sect was known to be soft-hearted and treat its disciples quite well; they might have even sent a protector with her, or one of her clan elders might have escorted her back. After all, she was not in a group like the Liu Clan, and it would have been reckless to have her return home alone.

And there had been someone in the scouting group. A bold Body Tempering Cultivator girl who claimed to be Fu Yating's friend.

So that's how it was... I chuckled to myself. It was almost too stupid to believe.

"You were with the scouting group, weren't you?" I asked bluntly.

"What?" Her eyes widened, surprise and confusion flashing across her face.

I held her gaze, and after a moment, she sighed, slumping to the floor of the jade barrier.

"So what?" she said, leaning against the shimmering wall. "Are you going to kill your cute wife?"

"Cute?" I raised an eyebrow.

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In my opinion, cuteness wasn't just about appearance. It was personality too, and hers leaned more toward vicious than cute. Fu Yating was a schemer, no doubt about it. A beautiful one, but a vicious schemer all the same.

"Oh, right, the scars…" Her fingers brushed her shoulder as she gave a humorless smile. "I guess you can't call me cute anymore."

"Scars add a rustic charm," I said.

Of course, that wasn't true in her case. These scars didn't enhance her charm; they simply blended into her skin. Not that it mattered. Fu Yating was logical to a fault. She wouldn't let something as superficial as a scar bother her. She didn't become a cultivator to win beauty contests but to become strong enough to crush her enemies.

"Don't patronize me," she said. "I knew you'd figure it out once you saw the scar. I really didn't want to come here, but my clan… my father… they've already decided. I'm a sacrifice."