Moon Cultivation [Sci-fi Xianxia]

Chapter 76: She Won't Forget


Zola Thembeka Dlamini — that was Nur's new name. Her primary root was a point, 23. Second, third and fourth places were taken by earth, lightning and water. The fourth with a value of 14, though, was a fist. Something tells me that's the one she'll cultivate most actively. She'll have to learn to distinguish that kind of qi from the very start. Then again, doing it a second time should take less time, now that she knows what to expect.

Her energy cultivation, however, was a whole different story — much worse. Her level was 0. She was literally tied for last place with a dozen cripples. I bet our demon — or rather, his current body — is somewhere on that list too. Not that anyone pointed a finger and told me, "That's him."

Bulsara gave me very measured information. Just enough to calm me down and help me calm Nur-Zola.

She wasn't interested in calming down. She wanted her body back, though Bulsara eventually snapped and told her in no uncertain terms that she'd better get used to it quickly and throw herself into training, or else she'd fail to qualify for second year and get shipped off to her new mum and dad.

Zola had a big family — four younger siblings and a ton of cousins.

And to make sure she didn't blurt out anything extra to her new family, he said he'd tweak her memory himself. According to him, erasing memories wasn't such a big deal.

Nur-Zola took the threat seriously. Still, I wouldn't trust Doc Bulsara so easily, not after learning that he didn't bury the bodies in the Wastes — or at least not all of them. That much was clear.

Zola was given the same lenses and earbuds as me and sent to the dorm under Lina's escort. I was taken to my old room; she went to a new one, with new roommates.

Back in the room, I had to tell the boys that Nur Amira Rahman wasn't ever coming back to the dorm. At least, the odds of it were next to nothing.

The guys expressed their sympathy.

As for me, I just felt awkward. There was no anxiety, no sadness anymore. And that morning in Rene's hall, I really showed what I was made of — movement technique, channeling qi, projection series and the shield — everything was on point.

"You seem like a different person," Rene said.

I tapped my forehead.

"Just got some rest and sorted out the mess in my head."

"Do that more often," he advised. "You might actually get somewhere."

I had energy to spare and a real desire to train. I was even ready to spar with Adam, but you had to arrange that in advance — Novak kept roping him into some secret mission or another, none of which anyone ever told me about.

Unexpectedly, though, Dr Robinson woke up. He texted me to say the elixirs were ready and asked me to come collect them.

I messaged Novak, and somehow it ended with both of us being invited over.

"Novak? Seriously?" Doc asked me as we made our way down into the metro. I was carrying a plastic box with forty stainless steel vials. Thirteen of them held red-grade Qi Purification Elixir. Twenty-one were orange, and the rest yellow.

I didn't even try to calculate how much the whole lot was worth.

"What's so surprising?" I asked him. "My mentor is his personal disciple. Isn't that logical?"

"I did consider that when I found out who your mentor was. But… Novak? What the hell did you do to catch his interest?"

"He saw potential in me, same as you did," I replied.

"I believed you wouldn't forget the doc who got you four million."

"Oh!" I rolled my eyes dramatically. "So it wasn't from the goodness of your heart? Our friendship meant nothing to you?"

"And the vial of elixir you demanded — that was just friendly generosity, was it?"

"Touché," I laughed. Still, the extra red-grade vial tucked in my pocket was warming me quite nicely.

Adam was waiting for us at the station.

"First time visiting this building…" Doc said as we stepped off the train. He even stopped for a moment to give the occasion a bit more weight.

"Does anyone besides Novak even live here?" I asked. "I've never seen a living soul."

"Are you kidding? The head of the school lives here! And all the Hall leaders too."

"And Novak?" I asked.

"Don't tell me you don't know," Robinson said, clearly not buying it.

"Somehow, it just never came up," I said, glancing toward Adam, who was standing by the lifts.

"You ignoramus," Robinson shook his head, but he started moving again. "Novak's the Head of the Hall of Diplomacy. The role's mostly ceremonial these days, but still. We may not be a sovereign state, but we do maintain relations with other schools."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

And for centuries, diplomacy had been the perfect cover for espionage.

Lift. Floor. Adam didn't come in with us. A cozy room. The scent of bourbon and old lamps. The ever-present window overlooking Verdis at dusk. Only Tarassa was in the sky tonight — pale, nearly white, as though bleached by the weight of months. It suited our host's mood perfectly.

Novak greeted us without a smile, but also without edge. His face looked polished to a soft sheen — composed, stern, but tired. One hand held a glass. Another sat waiting on the table, already filled. Neither was for me.

The air was laced with honey and citrus. Pure Thought had been prepared for me, which meant I wasn't just here as decoration. Novak needed my mind sharp.

Not that he showed it.

"Doctor Robinson," he nodded, extending a hand for a shake. "Glad to finally meet you in person."

"Sir," Robinson replied, taking his hand like it was a porcelain flask full of acid.

"Please," Novak gestured toward the chair where Kate usually sat. "And help yourself."

Doc picked up the glass with the same caution he might've shown if it held a secret toxin rather than bourbon. Unlike Bulsara, though, he didn't seem to appreciate the drink — at least I saw no reaction on his face when he took a sip.

I set the box of elixirs down next to the table and took my usual seat to enjoy my tea.

"So, what do we have here?" Novak asked, nodding toward the case, though he already knew the exact answer.

"Thirteen red, twenty-one orange, and six yellow," I said.

"I need more red," Vaclav shook his head, then quickly reassured Robinson, "That's not a complaint. I'm willing to provide you with fresh material for the next batch."

Dr. Robinson took a sip of bourbon and let out a small sigh.

"The issue with producing red-grade elixir is that it requires a significant increase in both the quality and quantity of raw ingredients. The cost of resources is almost identical to that of making a high-end formula."

"That's not a problem," Vaclav assured him. "Sometimes it's worth overpaying. Besides, I anticipate a certain return from our little cooperation. In that regard…"

Vaclav stepped out of the room for a moment and returned carrying a metal case about thirty centimetres long and maybe five to seven wide. He clicked open the clasps, and I immediately felt a wave of qi rush out. Doc nearly fainted — he almost dropped his glass.

Novak opened the case fully and turned it toward Robinson.

Fortunately, the lid flipped back all the way, so I could also see what was radiating so strongly.

Inside, resting on dark foam that held it firmly in place, was a long, needle-sharp shard of crystal. Silvery-black. Its surface gleamed, but the gleam came from within — not from reflected light, but from the deep resonance of stored qi. I suspected it was a very particular kind of qi, one I didn't yet know how to recognise.

"Silver Obsidian," said Novak. "Rare stuff. It would fetch around sixteen million at auction. I'm offering it to you for ten."

The heat in Doc's eyes faded.

"I'm afraid I fall a little short of that sum."

"I'll give it to you on credit — four years, no interest," Novak waved it off. "You can pay it back through your work, at least partially. Also, I want you to delay patenting the elixir recipe until after the auction."

Robinson stared at the crystal, entranced.

We'd already spoken with Novak specifically about this material. Silver Obsidian — point and blade — what they called Sword Qi. And Robinson was a swordsman, with little hope of acquiring such a rare material for a breakthrough any time soon. So I had no doubt that, once he could speak again, he'd agree.

And that's exactly what happened. In fact, he agreed even before unlocking his jaw. His head gave a single hesitant nod, then began to wobble like one of those dashboard figurines.

"Good," Vaclav smiled. "I intend to make a profit at that auction, so coordinate your sales with my student — the one who brought you here — so we don't step on each other's toes." Novak closed the case and slid it toward Robinson. "And if you come up with any new ideas, don't hesitate to discuss them with Farukh Bulsara. He studied under me once too."

That was news to Robinson, but he barely registered it — both hands were already clamped onto the crystal case like a lifeline.

Vaclav understood that he wouldn't be getting much more out of him tonight. They signed an official agreement regarding the sale of the crystal, and Novak hinted that Doc was free to go. Robinson didn't catch on until he said it outright — that he could leave and "test the crystal's properties."

What was there to test? The thing was so charged with qi that even I could feel how powerful it was.

What was stranger was that Vaclav wasn't letting me go.

I took another sip of Pure Thought and began wondering what exactly he wanted from me.

"How's Rahman?" he asked.

"She's no longer Rahman," I replied with a smile.

"Must be nice to have someone around who's like you," Novak said, looking straight into my eyes.

"She's practically a local, unlike me," I noted.

"Right… Don't tell her your story. I know you two are similar, and it might be tempting, but… better not."

"I wasn't planning to, but now I have to ask — is there a particular reason?"

"Not really. Just a feeling. Feels like the right thing to do. Let it stay between us. God knows what demons could do with proof of parallel worlds, but they clearly have more resources than we do."

"If they had that many resources, they wouldn't need ours," I pointed out.

"They don't extract, they steal," Novak waved the idea off. "They just grab whatever's easy to take. They hate putting in real effort."

Novak pulled out a tablet, opened something, and handed it to me.

It was a list — hundreds of names.

"List of suicides," he said. "We thought they were fanatics, but what we've pulled from Rahman suggests otherwise. They're pragmatic as hell. Ruthless bastards. They don't die — they reboot and come back in a new body."

"But how?" I asked, thinking of Marek. His name wasn't on the list — so it was only for those who'd succeeded in their attempt.

"That's the question we don't have an answer to," Novak said. "My guess is someone in the Hall of Medicine is helping them."

"You suspect Robinson?" I asked.

"Quite the opposite. Robinson was kicked out of the programme back in the day and only returned to Verdis later as a doctor. That makes his involvement unlikely. But we'll keep watching."

"What do you need from me?" I asked.

"Nothing."

I smiled and nodded toward the cup. Pure Thought wasn't poured for no reason.

"You know what else we've learned about demons?" Novak went on. "Besides their pragmatism, there's another trait — one that doesn't quite fit with the first. Vengefulness. They are incredibly vindictive. You've got a year, Jake. That's a long time. And it's nothing. In a year, she'll come back and try to kill you."

"In a year I'll already be at the second stage," I said.

I didn't ask who he meant. The image of the demoness — or rather, the body she'd occupied — rose instantly in my mind.

"Makes little difference if you don't know where the blow's coming from. So…" Novak reached into his pocket and set a small box on the table — the kind you'd expect to see an engagement ring in. But he clearly wasn't proposing.

I opened it.

Instead of a ring, there was a single, large, round pill — a dirty yellow colour.

"The Pill of Seven Poisons and Nine Plagues," Novak said. "Material for a breakthrough, though it's rarely used. Normally, a cultivator's body can handle most toxins on its own. But something tells me you'll find this one useful.

"But it won't save you from a knife in the back," he added. "So get as strong as you possibly can."

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