Death Cultivator 3: A Sci-Fi Cultivation Adventure by eden Hudson

Author:eden Hudson [Hudson, eden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: MMO litRPG role playing steampunk quest gamelit, men&#8217, s adventure video game adaptations young adult, coming of age sword sorcery dungeon core demon, action dark epic metaphysical vengeful myth asian, Chinese manga wuxia xianxia martial arts kung fu, supernatural fantasy magic occult legends thriller
Publisher: Shadow Alley Press
Published: 2021-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

Condensing

“CLOSE YOUR EYES AND focus on your Spirit sea, grav.”

That was almost as hard as sitting down, especially with the cacophony of jungle sounds crashing against my skull. Night birds and bugs and twigs snapping and leaves rustling and the artifact team drinking and talking and messing around on their HUDs and the constant running monologue inside my head yelling like a little kid on a sugar high.

I bounced on the spot and pressed my eyelids shut with my thumb and forefinger.

“I know it’s proper awful,” Warcry growled, “but you have to hold still and let go of the noise. Inside and out, yeah?”

I opened my eyes. “You’ve been overcultivated before?”

“Not since I was halfway through Sho. Happens when you take in too much Spirit too fast. I was trying to catch up to... to somebody who could cultivate faster and store better’n me.”

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off before I could get going again.

“Humans start out weak in the storage department,” he said. “Disorganized. That elixir the Emperor gave you got your body ready for Ten, but it’s your sea needs work now. It’s trying to store too much loose Spirit.”

Thinking about Spirit amounts made me want to check my reserve stat. I opened my eyes and reached for my Winchester’s cracked screen.

Warcry knocked my hand down.

“Leave it. Focus.”

I held my eyes shut and really tried to focus on my Spirit. The Miasma had been whipped up into a typhoon, all raging violence, battering at the edges of my Spirit sea, trying to bash its way out.

“What do I do now?”

“Good job keeping your gob shut for almost a whole second.”

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a...” He sighed. “Just focus on your Spirit. It’s got a natural movement to it. A way it wants to go. If you had all the time in the world, you’d go into seclusion, and it would eventually condense itself. But humans’ve got eighty, maybe ninety years altogether. We can’t waste time in seclusion. So you’ve gotta find the way it’s already naturally moving and speed that up.”

I homed in on the swirling center of the storm. “I think I get what you’re saying about the movement, but—”

“Don’t talk, grav. Just do.”

“But I don’t know how—”

“You’re never gonna find out asking somebody who don’t even have the same Spirit type.” Rocks shifted as he adjusted his sitting position. “If you want a textbook, get one off the hyperweb and stop wasting my time. But so’s you know up front, half that nonsense is written by rubbish liars who’ve never even made it to Ten for themselves. If you want my help, clam up and get to work. What direction’s your Spirit condensing?”

“Kind of... around. Like a whirlpool or maelstrom or whatever they’re called in the middle of the ocean.”

“Death Spirit condenses in a spiral, then,” he said like he was making a note to himself. “All right. Not the easiest, but not the hardest, either. So help it along. Spiral it in faster and tighter in one concentrated area.

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