Cultivation Master in the City

Chapter 6: Heavenly Star Stone

After that incident, He Xu bought a complete set of university town maps and a bicycle. He disliked the oppressive atmosphere at school, so he often ventured off-campus and avoided casual conversations with others.

It was during this time that an unexpected phone call—an ordinary arrangement—gently opened He Xu’s heart. The caller was Zhao Miner, a close high school classmate of his. She hadn’t performed well in the college entrance exams, so she chose the grueling path of repeating her final year.

Miner enrolled in a prestigious high school for her repeat year, where discipline was strict. Phones were strictly f*******n, and students were granted only a brief half-day of rest each week. After He Xu started university, the two lost contact. He had assumed they wouldn’t reconnect until a year later—if at all. More likely, they would drift apart, eventually becoming strangers.

The call lasted over two hours. Miner, who had failed her exams and was under immense pressure, should have been the one seeking comfort. Yet she quietly listened as He Xu poured out his frustrations—his dissatisfaction with university life, his unhappiness, his current way of living, his helplessness. Occasionally, she offered words of comfort. When the call ended because she had to attend evening self-study, Miner promised to call He Xu once a week from then on.

By the time they hung up, He Xu hadn’t even asked why Miner had called in the first place—and Miner, it seemed, had forgotten to mention it.

That brief conversation planted Miner deep in He Xu’s heart. She didn’t know that her phone call would intertwine their life trajectories irrevocably. Nor did He Xu realize that this call would later lead to an accident involving Miner—one that would unveil a colossal secret and a catastrophic crisis. For now, He Xu simply waited for the next week, already thinking about what he would say in their next conversation.

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At the temporary headquarters of the Special Unit, in Young He’s office…

“So? Do I look dashing like this?” Young He had swapped his military uniform for a formal suit, now preening somewhat narcissistically as he posed the question to Captain Li.

Captain Li, usually stern, was caught off guard by the young man’s vanity. Unaccustomed to such questions, he replied stiffly, “Uh… yes, sir. The car’s ready. We can leave whenever.”

“Heh, relax. Let’s go.” Amused by Captain Li’s expression, Young He chuckled and patted his shoulder before heading out.

Left standing there, Captain Li gave a wry smile. He still wasn’t used to being treated like a junior by someone so young. Shaking his head to dismiss the odd feeling, he quickly followed.

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In the Wang family’s dining room, the little monkey—still recovering from the morning’s fright—had seemingly forgotten its earlier dilemma of whether to demand food or a mate. Now, it sat in the middle of the dining table, surrounded by plates of meat, its tiny hands snatching piece after piece and stuffing them into its mouth. The meat vanished at an alarming rate, with maids replacing empty plates in a flurry. Despite last night’s spectacle, the maids still stared in shock at the little glutton.

Seated across the table, the Taoist priest paid no attention to the lavish spread before him. Instead, he watched the monkey’s ravenous feast with amusement, sipping wine between chuckles. Just then, the Wang family patriarch entered with his family in tow. The morning’s supernatural scare had left them all visibly exhausted.

“Master Taoist, might I trouble you to assess whether Bin and Yu have the aptitude?” The patriarch bowed respectfully before guiding two children forward, his eyes burning with hope. He knew the man before him was a true immortal—decades ago, when he himself was a child, the priest had looked exactly the same. Now, with children of his own, the patriarch could only marvel at the Taoist’s unchanging youth. The morning’s events had only deepened his reverence.

The Taoist sighed. “Cultivation isn’t as simple as you imagine. Very well, let me see.”

He understood the patriarch’s hopes. But the mortal world was nearly devoid of Spiritual Qi, meaning children born here were inherently disadvantaged in Cultivation.

His Sect was small and struggling—otherwise, they wouldn’t send him to this resource-starved world every sixty years to scavenge materials. Taking in disciples with poor aptitude would only worsen their plight.

The priest clasped each child’s wrist, sending a thread of Spiritual Qi through their bodies. As expected, both showed dismal potential. With a regretful shake of his head, he left a trace of Qi within them to nourish their constitutions slowly.

The patriarch’s heart sank at the Taoist’s reaction, but he knew better than to force the issue. Suppressing his disappointment, he motioned for his wife to take the now-slumbering children to rest.

Once they were gone, the patriarch eyed the still-devouring monkey and cautiously asked, “Master Taoist, shall we wait for the immortal monkey to finish, or proceed to the vault now?”

The priest shook his head at the monkey, then made a grasping motion in the air. Mid-bite, the creature suddenly found itself in his grip. It squeaked in protest, eyes locked on the table. Ignoring its complaints, the priest deposited it onto his shoulder and said, “Let’s go.”

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Led by the patriarch, they traversed a hidden entrance behind a garden rockery, descending into a 200-square-meter basement. The room was unadorned, its simplicity stark. One side held neatly stacked small crates; the other, rows of solid iron shelves laden with peculiar ores.

“Master Taoist, these are our harvests over the years. Following your instructions, we collected these from our family’s various mines—mostly this Mystic Iron Stone.” The patriarch gestured to a fist-sized, dull black rock.

Mystic Iron Stone was the most basic and widely used forging material, typically found alongside large iron deposits.

As the patriarch spoke, the priest inspected the ores. Suddenly, a faintly glowing stone caught his eye. With a flick of his wrist, it flew into his palm.

The patriarch gaped. That particular stone, though no larger than an adult’s fist, weighed thousands of pounds—yet the priest held it effortlessly.

Unaware of the patriarch’s shock, the priest’s calm facade belied his inner excitement. He channeled Spiritual Qi into the stone. The faint glow flared once before vanishing entirely, leaving it looking utterly ordinary—with no residual Qi fluctuations.

A flicker of emotion crossed the priest’s face. He conjured a small flame-blade and sent it slashing toward the stone. The blade hesitated upon contact before dissipating.

Now, the priest’s joy was unmistakable. Though that flame-blade had been weak, it would’ve melted Mystic Iron Stone instantly. Yet this ore remained pristine.

“Heavenly Star Stone… the perfect material for forging Spirit Tools aligned with our Sect’s techniques. Our founder once wielded a Spirit Tool forged from it, and its fame contributed greatly to his legacy. This material vanished from the cultivation world centuries ago—none have been found since. Yet here it is, in this barren mortal realm. Unbelievable.”

The priest’s heart raged like stormy seas, but his composure swiftly returned. With a wave, nearly two hundred ores—including the Heavenly Star Stone—disappeared.

“Excellent. This batch pleases me greatly.” The priest stroked his beard, smiling at the patriarch.

“Your satisfaction is all that matters. Over here, we have the Spirit Stones—one crate holds a thousand. Fire and Metal Spirit Stones fill eight crates each, Earth nine, Water just over seven. Wind and Thunder Stones number only two hundred each. As for mid-grade Spirit Stones, we’ve gathered about eight hundred. But we found no high-grade Spirit Stones as described in your records.” The patriarch, now unfazed by the vanishing act, gestured to the crates.

“Indeed. This haul is thirty percent larger than last time, which itself was only five percent more than the previous. I’d thought the last increase was a dying vein’s final surge. But now it’s clear—Spiritual Qi had already begun returning to this world back then, revitalizing the Spirit Stone deposits.” The priest stroked his chin, deep in thought.

“Master Taoist?” The patriarch ventured after a prolonged silence.

“Ah, yes. This harvest exceeds my expectations. Rest assured, I’ll reward you accordingly.”

“I dare not ask. Our family’s standing is entirely your doing. This service is our duty.” Despite his eagerness, the patriarch feigned humility.

“Hah! No need for pretenses. You’ve earned this.” The priest laughed, waving at the crates again—this time leaving behind ten Water and ten Earth Spirit Stones.

“These two manuals contain the first layer of our Sect’s foundational techniques. The Water Art is for your daughter; the Earth Art, your son. This pill bottle—they must take one monthly. When cultivating, your daughter should hold Water Spirit Stones, your son Earth Stones. Remember: the manuals are for their eyes only. Once memorized, destroy them. No sharing without my permission.”

Considering the patriarch’s immense contribution, the priest had decided to grant his children a chance at immortality.

“Th-this… thank you, Master Taoist!” The patriarch trembled, nearly collapsing to his knees. Never had he imagined such a windfall.

The priest stopped him with an unseen force, then produced a yellow talisman and several vials. “If either child senses and absorbs Qi from the stones, tear this talisman. I’ll come to take them to a proper cultivation site. Whether they succeed depends on their destiny. The other pills are the usual—longevity and healing. You’ve used them before, so no explanations needed.”

“Thank you… thank you! This opportunity alone is more than enough. If they fail, it’s fate.” The patriarch’s voice quivered with emotion.

“Good! Now, let’s return to our drinks.” The priest clapped him on the back, laughing.