Chapter 19: The Path of Cultivation… Apparently Doesn’t Like Me

Morning sun filtered through misty mountain peaks, bathing the Shen Clan training grounds in a majestic golden hue that suggested discipline, power, and enlightenment.

Shen Liang trudged through it like a man walking to his own funeral.

“Elder Zhang,” he muttered, “remind me why I’m doing this.”

“To improve your odds of not dying in public,” the old man said, walking beside him with a straight back and the kind of serene patience only people with no blood pressure spikes could maintain.

“Right,” Shen Liang nodded. “Because being the Patriarch of a clan with a combat power level equivalent to a soup kitchen wasn’t stressful enough.”

They arrived outside a modest training pavilion carved into the cliffside. Crisp air. Birds chirping. Spiritual Qi floating faintly through the air like polite ghosts.

It was, as they say, very cultivator-core aesthetic.

Inside, Instructor Yao Qing stood at the center, looking like she’d been meditating since the last dynasty. Tall, graceful, and wrapped in pale green robes, she carried the aura of someone who had actually read all the scrolls she quoted.

Her eyes opened. Calm. Focused. Deadly.

“…You again,” she said flatly.

“Good morning to you too,” Shen Liang replied. “I’ve come seeking wisdom, humility, and the ability to not die horribly at the assembly.”

She stood, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves. “You lasted seventeen seconds last time. That’s a new record… for the lowest.”

“Progress,” he said, deadpan. “At least I didn’t dislocate anything.”

“You broke a practice dummy by falling on it.”

“…A tactical retreat.”

Yao Qing sighed like a woman carrying the emotional burden of training a stone.

“Very well. Let’s try this again. Sit.”

Phase 1: Meditation Attempt #78

Shen Liang sat cross-legged on the wooden platform. He closed his eyes. He breathed in deeply, feeling the world around him.

…And immediately sneezed.

The Qi swirled like pollen through his sinuses.

Yao Qing didn’t flinch. “Focus. Feel the energy. Let it enter you.”

He tried again. This time something did enter him — a cold, slithering sensation that made his skin crawl.

“Why does it feel like I’m inviting a ghost to tea?” he muttered.

“That’s just spiritual Qi.”

“Spiritual Qi should not feel like haunted bathwater.”

From the corner, Elder Zhang whispered, “He has that misfortune meridian, remember?”

“Oh,” said Yao Qing grimly. “Right. The one that actively repels structured cultivation.”

“Wonderful,” Shen Liang said, eyes still closed. “I’m a walking anti-cultivation field. Just slap a ‘do not operate near spiritual machinery’ label on me.”

Phase 2: Basic Energy Circulation

“Now,” she said, pacing slowly, “cycle the Qi along your first meridian.”

“I would,” Shen Liang muttered, “if I could find it.”

She pressed two fingers to his wrist, checking. Then frowned.

“…Your Qi is doing something strange.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

“It’s… zigzagging. It shouldn’t do that. It’s like watching a drunk snake try to dance.”

Shen Liang cracked an eye open. “Is that…bad?”

“It’s impossible. The Qi is bouncing between incompatible meridians. It’s like your internal channels are tuned to the wrong frequency.”

Elder Zhang again, softly: “He also has a Qi resonance disrupter.”

Yao Qing pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why does this boy have every rare affliction known to cultivation?”

Shen Liang raised a hand. “Not to flex, but apparently I also have the Cloud Rabbit Physique.”

“…The what?”

He shrugged. “No idea. Sounds fluffy.”

Phase 3: Acceptance (and Defeat)

An hour passed. Nothing exploded. Nothing worked either.

Eventually, Shen Liang lay flat on his back, arms splayed, expression blank.

“So let me summarize,” he said. “My body resists structured Qi. My meridians throw parties without telling me. And my ‘physique’ sounds like it belongs in a petting zoo.”

Yao Qing sat beside him, pouring herself tea. “You are the worst candidate for cultivation I’ve ever seen.”

“I aim to disappoint.”

“You may not be suited for traditional training.”

“I figured that out when my Qi did a cartwheel and tried to exit through my left nostril.”

She sipped tea. “Perhaps a more unorthodox method… something adapted.”

“I’ll invent the world’s first side-hustle cultivation technique,” he muttered. “Sponsored by sheer spite.”

Elder Zhang, standing in the background, cleared his throat. “Patriarch, maybe we should… focus on your leadership duties instead?”

Shen Liang sat up, face deadpan.

“You mean the eight hundred-strong mountain cult where no one listens, we have no money, and we’re sending a girl who forgets to block punches to represent us at a political gathering?”

“…Yes.”

He lay back down.

“Wonderful.”

End of Chapter 19