Cultivation Nerd (xianxia)

Chapter 360 - An Excellent Plan

I opened my eyes and stared blankly at the stone ceiling of my room, frowning.The last thing I remembered was waking up the morning after my wedding, exchanging a bit of small talk with my wife… and then nothing. Absolutely nothing after that.

Damn it. Did my past self spend the entire day obsessing over the plan and decide to delete all the memories again? Fuck me. Sometimes being an overthinker was genuinely dangerous.

I pushed myself out of the bed, noticeably larger than the one I remembered in the sect, and stood there for a moment, trying to piece things together. How many times had this already happened? How often had I decided that knowing too much was too risky and sealed my own memories again… wherever I was even sealing them?

Given that I woke up in bed, at least I hadn’t been dumped somewhere random.

Alright. Don’t think about it too much.

As I stood, a letter slipped from the sheets and fluttered onto the floor. I looked down at it and frowned again. I didn’t need to guess who had “sent” it.

I picked it up and began reading. Whatever irritation I’d felt immediately evaporated.

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

I stared at the letter written in English for several seconds before crumpling it in my hand and setting it on fire.

…Alright. So today was the day I went to confront him.

That was concerning. More than concerning.

The last clear memory I had was the morning after my wedding, and then—blink—I was here. Time had clearly passed, and I had deliberately carved out my own memories and stored them somewhere else. Again.

It felt wrong. Disorienting. Like waking up in the middle of a story I’d written myself and forgotten how it began.

Still, judging by the state of my cultivation, about thirty-three days had passed. That meant I hadn’t just rushed this. I’d prepared. Thoroughly.

I walked over to the mirror on the far side of the room, briefly wondering when I’d even placed it there, then pushed open the door to the adjoining bathroom.

I stared at my reflection again.

Strangely, I didn’t feel as nervous as I should have. Maybe I’d been dreading this confrontation for so long that the fear had dulled. Or maybe past me had already burned the anxiety out of my system along with the memories.

I didn’t linger on the gaps in my mind. There was no point.

I only hoped that no absurdly powerful immortal was orchestrating an elaborate joke erasing my memories, nudging me along, watching me dance for their amusement. I had no objective measure of what immortals were capable of, so that fear stayed firmly in the realm of uncomfortable speculation.

Either way…

If I’d trusted myself enough to do this, then I’d follow through.

Time to act normal.

After a brief shower and fixing my hair a bit, I walked down the stairs to the kitchen, and there was Fu Yating. The moment she saw me, she smiled brightly, stepped forward, and gave me a quick peck on the lips, her expression almost blindingly enthusiastic.

Well. Someone was happy.

I returned the smile and slipped an arm around her, resting my chin atop her head.

It felt a little strange for our relationship to suddenly be this close, like I’d skipped a cutscene in a video game and loaded straight into the aftermath. Still, I went along with it, acting the way I assumed someone in my position should.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Fu Yating chuckled, cupped my cheek, and kissed me again. This time, she was clearly much better at it than she’d been on our wedding night.

…Okay. Were we really this lovey-dovey? Or had I told her something about the plan before the memory wipe, and she was just messing with me now?

If it was the former, then maybe I wasn’t as terrible a husband as I’d always assumed I would be.

“Good morning,” she said as she pulled back.

“Morning,” I replied, still feeling faintly off-balance.

Why had I let our relationship develop this much, knowing I might wake up one day missing an entire month of context? Had the stress finally gotten to me? Had I just decided to indulge in love and consequences be damned?

“Are you well?” Fu Yating asked, gently steering me toward the table.

…Yes. This was exactly why speeding things up had been a bad idea. Now I had no idea how we usually talked, what our rhythm was supposed to be, or where the invisible lines were.

“I’m well,” I shrugged. “Just thinking about learning some new techniques.”

Hopefully, my past self hadn’t completely flipped the script and decided to become a stay-at-home husband obsessed with his wife.

“You’ve been on edge recently,” she said, worry creeping into her expression as she set down bowls of soup filled with large chunks of meat. “Acting a bit strange.”

Oh. So paranoia had been within expectations. That was… reassuring, in a way. I was starting to question my own judgment over why my past self hadn’t left more notes about what was normal behavior and what wasn’t.

“Well, you know how it is with the war and all that,” I sighed, tasting the soup.

As always, it was delicious. The meat practically melted in my mouth.

And yes of course I’d been worried. About Fu Yating. About Speedy. About Song Song… and–

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

I paused.

There was another name there.

I could feel it, right on the tip of my thoughts. But no matter how I tried to grasp it, it slipped away like smoke through my fingers.

I remembered the note. The warning not to dig too deeply, not to reconstruct the gaps in my mind.

Right. No need to dwell on it.

I must have deliberately erased memories of that person. Someone important enough that, if I failed, the Blood Step Immortal reading my mind would find them interesting.

That realization sent a faint chill through me.

Now I was even more curious.

Who were they?

Someone I cared about? Or someone so dangerous, so valuable, that I couldn’t risk letting his eyes ever touch them?

After the meal, I left the house like always. Fu Yating hugged me, lingered a little too long, and did a few other things that made her affection painfully obvious. I went along with it, careful not to act out of character.

Then I walked out and flew toward the library, following my usual route as if heading off for work. But I didn’t slow down when I passed it. I kept accelerating, cutting straight through the air toward the new Song Clan grounds.

The place lay on the barren side of the mountain, lifeless and sparse. Aside from a handful of extravagant mansions, there were few signs of activity. With the Song Clan’s numbers reduced, those who remained had claimed much larger portions of land.

I spread my senses and quickly locked onto the Song Clan Leader.

He was sitting on a stone bench beside the road that ran through the newly built eastern-style mansions. A crimson robe draped over him as he stared ahead, motionless, like a forgotten statue.

I descended and landed on the road, then began walking toward him.

My footsteps echoed against the stone. Grass along the roadside swayed gently in the wind.

His long hair flowed down his back like a river, elegant and almost majestic if not for the unsettling emptiness in his expression. His eyes were dark, hollow, stripped of emotion.

As far as I could tell, there were no guards hidden nearby.

I stopped about thirty yards away. He hadn’t reacted at all.

Then he turned his head toward me, and I finally got a clear look at his face. For a brief moment, his eyes didn’t seem as cold as usual. If anything, he almost looked… nostalgic.

The expression vanished just as quickly, and he turned his gaze back toward the distance.

“Does the Kingdom of Erised mean anything to you?” he asked.

The name sounded strange, like it belonged to a language I didn’t know. It stirred nothing in me.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It doesn’t ring a bell.”

The Blood Step Immortal nodded calmly, then turned to look at me again. This time, his eyes were empty once more, as if that earlier flicker of emotion had never existed.

“Do you ever think about going back?” he asked.

“No,” I replied without hesitation.

There were far more interesting things here.

“We might both be otherworlders,” he said, almost thoughtfully, “but we are very different.”

He stood and faced me fully, his expression bored, almost tired. He sighed.

“So,” he asked, “how do you want to do this?”

Was there a trap already set? Or had he predicted everything, perhaps even my plan better than I understood it myself?

“It’s gotten boring,” he continued, walking toward me without the slightest caution, “watching people panic once they figure out who and what I am, then rushing to confront me.”

He stopped a short distance away, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Man up. Gather some courage,” he said lightly. “It’s not like I’m unbeatable. You’ve got your little plan, don’t you? Some people who learned the truth about me even managed to kill me.”

His tone was casual.

That, more than anything else, unsettled me.

As he approached, for some reason my weariness and my fear of him eased. I had imagined countless ways this battle could unfold, but I had never pictured him trying to hype me up like this.

And he was right. Hearing him casually admit that he had been defeated before lessened his presence. He wasn’t some invincible, untouchable enemy.

I had heard the rumors that one of his previous incarnations, the lover of Song Song’s grandmother, had been killed by the Blazing Sun Sect Leader.

Of course, comparing myself to someone like that was absurd. But the thought that this man could bleed…

Then I could take a pound of flesh from him too.

I didn’t hesitate any longer. I extended my arm toward him and immediately launched a mental attack.

He didn’t even try to dodge.

Time stretched unnaturally as I activated my first Foundation Technique, elongating the moment so I could observe every detail, searching for any opening.

“Even after so many years,” the Blood Step Immortal said calmly, utterly unconcerned by the incoming attack, “not a day passes that I don’t think about it.”

I had no idea what he was referring to.

Then my attack landed.

I winced as my consciousness was dragged forward, as if sucked through a narrow straw.

In the blink of an eye, the world shifted.

I stood on a white, polished floor so smooth it seemed to glow. Above me stretched a vast, impossibly clear blue sky.

So this was the Blood Step Immortal’s mental domain?

It was… unexpected.

Then, a couple dozen yards away, the inner world rippled and the Blood Step Immortal appeared, hands clasped behind his back.

“No,” he said, correcting me before I could speak. “This isn’t my mental space. It’s a fusion of both of ours.”

He looked at me with mild curiosity.

“And ever since we first met, I noticed that spark in your eyes. It told me you’d eventually figure out who I was. I’ve dealt with enough people like you, those who dig far deeper than they should. They all had that same look. Usually smart, too.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” I replied, scanning the space for weaknesses.

Despite everything at stake, the conversation felt strangely calm and almost respectful. I despised him, but I couldn’t deny a certain admiration. Records said he had virtually no talent for cultivation, yet he had still become an Immortal.

The methods he used were undeniably cruel, but translating rituals from another world into this one required a terrifying level of genius.

“You’re the first one who’s actually tried to attack me mentally,” he admitted. “No one else has ever been so… foolish.”

“Oh, and here I thought we were past name-calling,” I said, continuing to get a feel for the space.

“Sorry,” he shrugged. “I think I owe you honesty at least. And even if I weren’t skilled in mental techniques, which I am, as my Immortal Technique alone involves transferring an enormous volume of memories. Twenty millennia of them. That alone could overwhelm you.”

I nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. This plan was stupid. Incredibly so. It made me wonder what had been going through my head when I devised it and what had given me the confidence to attempt something like this.

For now, I was nothing more than a tool, following a plan my past self who knew all the details had prepared.

“How about I show you,” he said, raising a finger toward me in a theatrical gesture, “that this gap can’t be closed so easily by mere techniques?”

.

.

.

Then I felt it.

Infinity lodged inside my mind, and nameless gods wept tears of blood.

Twenty thousand years of memories were forced into my head in an instant.

Worms wriggled through my brain. Blood poured from my ears. The Virgin Mary sang somewhere far away, her voice warped and wrong.

Who am I?

Who was I?

The madman singing on the mountain.

Worms in my brain.

My thoughts swelled, stretched, and burst like a balloon pushed past its limit.

My consciousness began to fade, drowned beneath twenty millennia of memories flooding in all at once. It wasn’t even a mental technique. There was no refined attack, no focused mental energy.

Just weight.

Just volume.

Worms crawling in my brain.

I couldn’t remember this body anymore. The few meager decades of my life were crushed flat, shoved aside by the behemoth of twenty thousand years that replaced them.

Resistance? Of course I resisted.

But a bug resisting a boot makes no difference. Whether it struggles or lies still, the boot never notices.

Worms chewing through my mind.

I was overwhelmed in an instant.

And then the worm inside my thoughts began to eat me.

…

Until I was gone.

Until I was dead.