The Forsaken-Grade Cultivator

"Ha! I did it! I broke through! I'm finally a bona fide Cultivator!" Ying shouted, his voice bursting with excitement as it reverberated through the vast, empty woods.

The thrill of claiming the title of Cultivator filled him with an electrifying joy, and he revelled in the sensation of his stats spiking by +5 across the board. All except for his Luck and Charm, but who cared?

'Affiliations..? Sects..? Cultivation base..? Sounds interesting, everything about this is friggin interesting!' Ying thought exhilaratingly as an uncontrollable grin spread across his face.

He had merely advanced by a step in the grand scheme of the path of Cultivation, yet he acted like a kid who had just defeated an impossible stage boss?

Well, it was to be expected. After all, he'd grown up in the slums, so his expectations for most things were pretty below standard. But that wasn't exactly a bad trait now was it? It simply meant that he was easier to please than most.

Sometimes, Vincent Carter was just a simple creature.

As the adrenaline began to wane, Ying turned his attention to the message hovering beside his Cultivation level, feeling a twinge of concern.

[0/500 Qi]

'Five hundred, huh? I guess that is how much Qi I'll need for a second breakthrough. That's, fifty minutes? Ugh, that's a lot...' Ying deliberated, battling the urge to just dive right back into cultivating.

But eventually, he decided against it.

After a moment of introspection, he finally rose from the ground, eager to seek out something—anything. Following what he believed to be south, he set off in search of a village, city, or really just any form of human settlement at all.

....

It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for. Just a short distance ahead lay a sprawling city, its tall stone walls looming in the distance. At the heart of this fortress stood a massive iron gate, wide open.

Yet curiously, a throng of people—players, judging from the suspicious similarity of their robes to his—stood at the entrance, creating a ruckus without daring to step inside.

'What's going on?' Ying wondered as he approached the scene, a sense of caution was evident in his gait.

'Just because a lot of people are there, doesn't make it any less unsafe!'

Ying was intuitively prudent, very different from a casual risk taker.

After a while, he finally reached the hubbub. But there was a slight problem – he could not see anything.

Damn it! I can't see shit all the way back here. Looks like I'll have to go in,' he thought, feeling an unpleasant dread about the crowd—seems he wasn't much of a socialite either.

'Sigh...here goes nothing.' Ying thought swiftly then dived into the swarm of people.

Squeezing and shoving his way through a hoarse mix of players and NPCs alike, accompanied by a host of; 'Hey! Watch it!' and a few 'Damn it, kid, watch where you're going!' –

'Kid? Who are you calling kid, you muscle-bound ogre?!'

– Amongst other things, Ying eventually made it to the forefront of the crowd.

His eyes immediately took in the scene, and his brain quickly processed the sight before him. What he saw there instantly doused his excitement in cold annoyance.

With a sigh drenched in exasperation and disdain, he muttered in a low voice, "Seriously? You have got to be kidding me….''

At last, he understood the reason behind the crowd's hesitation—it was the guards.

Yes, blocking the entrance to the city was a group of four guards clad in immaculate white robes.

The robes were of extremely high quality, no doubt made from some of the finest materials available. Their seamless surface boasted lavish silver embroidery and impeccable design, making Ying's own garments feel like utter garbage in comparison.

The robes were distinct in many ways, but perhaps the most memorable feature was the insignia sewn onto the back and right breast—a picture of a ferocious white tiger roaring across the mountains that lay beneath it. It appeared quite arrogant, yet was intricate and profound.

The guards were three... no, four in number, with two standing off to the side, seemingly disinterested, while the remaining two pushed against the restless crowd, maintaining order with a patient stoicism.

But they weren't what caught Ying's attention...

One of the guards stepped forward, his voice sounding robotic, as though he had been doing this for far too long now: "This town is under the jurisdiction of the White Tiger Sect. Anyone wishing to enter must pay a small fee."

The words generated a displeased buzz from the audience. It was then that an authoritative voice cut through the murmurs. It was a young man, clearly a player, and that very fact demanded his Ying's attention.

"What do you mean we have to pay to enter? What is this nonsense about a White Tiger Sect? Do you think we're fools?"

At the provocative words, one of the guards simply snorted.

"We've made our position clear. Anyone who seeks entry into the city must pay the toll—no exceptions. Or else…"

"Or else? Or else what?" The player retorted, sweeping his hand towards the guard's sword, still sheathed at his side... for now.

"You planning to use that on us?" He taunted foolishly.

"What's the deal with this guy?" Ying fumed silently, his mind racing. "Is he really causing a scene? Who does he think he is?"

Curious about the player's identity, he noticed that, unlike other games, [Cultivation Climax] didn't show labels or cursors to differentiate players from NPCs.

So he instead chose to remember the player's appearance, making a mental note to himself to avoid troublemakers like him at all costs.

But the confrontation was not over, far from it.

"Can't you see we're just weary travellers? Exhausted from our long journey?" the player said, putting on a façade so transparent it was almost laughable. Ying couldn't help but roll his eyes.

'Like hell you are, you spawned eight minutes ago!'

"We just want a meal and a place to rest our tired feet. We mean no trouble," the player continued, flashing a ridiculous childlike gaze.

'Ugh… Gross.' Ying grimaced at the sight—a grown man trying to act all bashful. It was NOT a pretty scene. Not pretty at all.

Though he had no genuine problem with the lies being told, he found it frustratingly lazy that the player couldn't conjure a better tale. But if this farce somehow worked, allowing him and his band to slip through the gates for free, he wouldn't hesitate to go along with it. After all, albeit a rather picky one, he was a liar too...

The guards, however, remained silent, their expressions unchanging.

'What? No way that actually worked! Are they all idiots?! With our pristine robes, anyone with half a brain could tell we haven't been travelling for even a second!' Ying seethed.

Nothing infuriated him more than idiots, and all forms of idiotic activity.

"No! The answer is no. Not even a consideration. Sorry, but we don't make the rules here," the guard finally declared, indifferent to the plight of the unknown travellers before him.

'Of course he doesn't care! Why would he risk his neck for strangers, especially when it could lead to trouble with his superiors? Realistically, he's doing what he should. I can respect that.' Ying felt a strange satisfaction at the guard's no-nonsense reply of the guard, cowardliness was his romance after all.

The others though, did not share his sentiments.

They expressed their displeasure with a cascade of loud hisses, boos, curses, scowls and even a few animalistic growls mixed in somewhere between.

"Brothers, brothers calm down. I, Brother Han Long will sort this issue out." The player – Han Long – said, before walking up to the guards with an arrogant smile on his face.

Ying had an inkling he was about to do something very, very stupid.