Chapter 65 (1/2)
Grandpa Vremya’s eyelids trembled. His eyes were closed, and his legs were crossed in meditation. Three days had passed, and with his understanding of his body, he knew his life was on the verge of ending. It was time for him to finish the last steps of his breakthrough. Even though the strength limit of the world wasn’t very high, the steps to establishing a foundation were still well known. The initial steps involved creating the spirit lake within the dantian. After the spirit lake was established, a spiritual art had to be engraved at the bottom of the lake. The engraving of the art was extremely important as it determined the future of one’s cultivation. The Moon Lotus Cultivation Technique was an ice-based one, and as such, when a disciple established their foundation, they always engraved a symbol of ice at the bottom of the lake. Sometimes it was a snowflake, sometimes it was an icicle. There was even an elder with a depiction of a penguin.
As for what Grandpa Vremya was going to engrave, he already knew from the day he was born. Images of black holes appeared in his mind. As a primordial god who had fought at the beginning of time, he had seen Gravitat slaughter titans with black holes. Vremya didn’t see much since he and Kosmos had gone separate ways from the god of gravity, but what he saw, he’d never forget. As the images in his mind appeared over and over, a black dot formed at the bottom of his spiritual lake. At first, it was just a dot, but then, as Grandpa Vremya continued to imagine more black holes, the dot widened until it was the size of a fist, then a plate, then a house. It continued to expand until it threatened to swallow the whole lake. Only when the darkness reached the edge of the spiritual lake did it stop growing, and at that moment, Grandpa’s Vremya’s eyes shot open. Success!
The cave trembled, and the air shook. Spiritual energy gushed into Grandpa’s Vremya body, filling in the spiritual lake. His dantian was like a vacuum, sucking in spiritual energy without pause. His hair, which had mostly fallen out, grew back in long strands. The roots grew dark, but before his hair could turn black, Grandpa Vremya grunted and suppressed the color change, forcing his hair to stay gray. The thought of having hair the same color as the stinky dog’s fur displeased him. His body, which was scrawny and resembled a skeleton, grew in size. Muscles bulged, causing his skin to stretch taut. If it weren’t for the fact his hair was gray, he would’ve looked like a forty-year-old man. Grandpa Vremya clenched and unclenched his hands, gauging his newfound strength.
A blinding light entered the cave, and the opaque barrier that had been blocking the way disappeared. Rachel and Azalea were standing at the entrance, and upon seeing Grandpa Vremya’s revitalized appearance, Azalea’s face flushed red. A few elders’ heads peeked into the cave from the sides, getting a good view of Grandpa Vremya. “Congratulations on reaching foundation establishment,” Rachel said. “Coincidentally, your punishment is over, and you’re free to go.”
Grandpa Vremya nodded as the formations binding his arms and legs vanished. He approached the entrance of the cave and frowned. The elders were crowding around, preventing him from leaving. “I thought I was free to go.”
Rachel glared at the surrounding elders, and they scattered, making way. One of them coughed and cleared her throat. “Junior Vremya, out of curiosity, are you planning on apprenticing under any of us? There’s more to cultivation than cultivating. All high-ranked cultivators are skilled in at least one of the seven arts.”
Grandpa Vremya snorted. “Repeating myself is a waste of time, but I’ll have to say it again it seems. None of you are qualified to be my master—in anything.” He swept his arms out to the side and placed them behind his back, gripping his left wrist with his right hand. His back straightened as he marched out of the cave, walking past the dismayed elders without looking back.
“Maybe we should’ve kept him in there for longer?” an elder asked. “His attitude hasn’t changed at all.”
“Forget it,” Rachel said, staring at Grandpa Vremya’s back. “He’s like a piece of mold. He’ll grow perfectly fine on his own, but if we keep shining light on him to inspect his growth, we’ll be harming him instead.”
Grandpa Vremya’s eye twitched, but he didn’t turn back, steadily walking down the mountainside instead. A laugh burst out of Azalea’s mouth, but she quickly stifled it down and bade her farewells to the elders before chasing after Grandpa Vremya. She caught up in a flash and smiled at the no-longer-so-elderly man. “Congratulations on your freedom,” she said. “Now that you’re free, what are your plans? Continue cultivating in seclusion like you’ve been doing for the past hundred years?”
Grandpa Vremya shook his head. “I plan on attending the Frostwind Empire’s wine-brewing competition.”
Azalea’s eyes widened. “You know how to brew wine? When did you learn how to do that?” All this time in the sect, you were cultivating, so you must’ve learned before you joined….” Her eyes widened even further as she recalled the state of the Grandpa Vremya’s not-grandmother’s home during that one time she had visited. “What kind of things did you grandmother teach you when you were a child?”
Grandpa Vremya was about to refute Azalea’s theory, but the real explanation was too much of a hassle to deal with. Instead, he pretended as if he hadn’t heard anything. “If I get first place in the wine-brewing competition, I’ll be presented with an artifact set which should be suitable until I break through to golden core.”
“I know,” Azalea said. Her face flushed pink. “I’m one of the judges of that competition.”
Grandpa Vremya’s brows furrowed. “You? A judge? But you’re just a kid.”