Cultivation is Creation

I had volunteered to help my father and the rest of the villagers with the preparations.

The village square was a flurry of activity when we arrived. Colorful streamers were being hung between buildings, temporary stalls were being constructed for food and games, and in the center, a group of elders was overseeing the construction of what looked like a small stage.

"Immortal Ke!" Old man Wang called out as soon as he spotted me. "Come, come! The youngsters have been asking for you!"

I suppressed a sigh at the title. After the battle, I had gone from being addressed as ‘Young Ke’ to ‘Immortal Ke’.

As I approached, a small crowd of children who had been helping (or more accurately, "helping") with the decorations broke away and rushed toward me.

"Immortal brother Ke!"

"Did you really fight ten thousand spirit beasts?"

"Can you fly? My pa says immortals can fly!"

"Show us something!"

Traitor.

"One at a time," I managed, holding up my hands. "And no, I can't fly. Not yet, anyway."

A collective "awww" of disappointment rose from the children.

"But," I added quickly, "I can do this."

I channeled a small amount of qi into my hand, careful to keep it simple and controlled. A tiny vine sprouted from my palm, growing into a delicate, miniature tree that blossomed with tiny white flowers.

The children gasped in delight.

"It's beautiful!" a gap-toothed girl exclaimed.

"What kind of tree is that?" an older boy asked, leaning closer.

"It's a spirit blossom tree," I improvised, not having any specific species in mind. "In full size, these trees can grow as tall as the village elder's house. The flowers only bloom at midnight under a full moon, and they glow with spiritual energy."

That wasn't remotely true—I'd just created a generic flowering plant—but the children's eyes widened with excitement at the mystical details.

"Can we touch it?" asked a timid boy at the back of the group.

"Certainly," I held my palm lower. "It won't bite."

As tiny fingers gently brushed against the leaves and petals, I maintained a steady flow of qi to keep the plant thriving. Their expressions of wonder reminded me why the World Tree Sutra had appealed to me in the first place. There was something inherently magical about creating life, even temporary constructs like this.

As the children marvaled at the small creation, I caught Father watching from across the square, a proud smile on his face.

The rest of the morning passed in a pleasant blur of preparations. I helped hang lanterns, moved heavy tables that would later hold food, and was roped into testing the sturdiness of the central stage more times than seemed strictly necessary. Throughout it all, I was peppered with questions about cultivation, spirit beasts, and my life at the "immortal mountain."

I answered as simply as I could, carefully navigating around anything that might seem frightening or incomprehensible to the villagers. When asked about the battle itself, I downplayed my own role and emphasized the teamwork involved, giving credit to Liu Chang's leadership and the bravery of the other disciples.

After all, without the sacrifice of the others, it was unlikely that I would be standing here today.

By midday, the village square was transformed. Colorful lanterns hung from every available surface, ready to be lit at dusk. The stage was decorated with fresh flowers and painted symbols of good fortune. Temporary stalls lined the edges of the square, where the village's best cooks would later serve special dishes prepared for the celebration.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Not bad for a morning's work," Father said, joining me as I took a moment to rest in the shade of the old ginkgo tree that dominated one corner of the square.

"It looks wonderful," I agreed. "I didn't realize the village could put together a festival so quickly."

Father chuckled. "When people have something to celebrate, it's amazing how quickly they can organize. Especially when the alternative was..." He trailed off, his expression sobering.

I knew what he was thinking. If we hadn't stopped the beast wave, there might not have been a village left to celebrate in.

"But you did stop it," he continued, as if reading my thoughts. "You and your friends."

"The sect simply did its duty," I replied. "The beasts never reached the village itself."

"And for that, we're all grateful." Father rested a hand on my shoulder. "Your mother and I are very proud of you, son. Not just for your cultivation achievements, but for the person you've become."

"I had good teachers," I smiled, thinking about both of my eccentric masters.

Father gave my shoulder a squeeze before letting his hand drop. "Come on. Your mother will have lunch ready soon, and if we're late, she'll use that wooden spoon of hers on both of us, immortal powers or no."

The image made me laugh as I stood to follow him. "Some things never change."

As we walked back through the village, I was struck by how readily the people had bounced back from yesterday's fear. Children played in the streets again, merchants had reopened their stalls, and everywhere there was an air of bustling activity and relief.

It was a stark reminder of what I was fighting to protect. Not abstract concepts like "cultivation resources" or "sect territory," but this—real people living their lives, finding joy in simple pleasures, building communities together.

One day, I hoped to have something like that in my inner world, now that was worth cultivating for.

"You know," Father said as we neared home, "I’ve been thinking about what you suggested. Moving closer to your sect."

I glanced at him, surprised by the sudden return to the topic.

"It's a big decision," he continued. "This village has been our home for so long. But..." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Family is more important than place. And the idea of seeing you more often, of having you be a regular part of your little brother or sister's life... that's worth considering a change."

"Brother or sister," I repeated, smiling. "So, you really don't know which it will be yet?"

Father laughed. "Despite what I said earlier about being sure it's a girl, no. It's too early to tell. But your mother has been craving sour foods, which the old women say means a boy."

"And what do you hope for?" I asked.

He looked surprised at the question. "Hope for? A healthy child, of course. Boy or girl matters far less than that."

It was such a simple answer, yet so perfect in its sincerity. This was why I felt drawn to these people—their straightforward goodness was like a compass point in this often morally ambiguous world.

"What about you?" Father asked. "Would you prefer a brother or sister?"

I considered the question seriously. "A sister, I think. The world needs more strong women."

"Well, whoever this child turns out to be, they'll have a distinguished older brother to look up to. An immortal cultivator from Azure Peak! Who would have thought our family would rise so high?"

There was pride in his voice, but also a hint of wistfulness. I wondered if he ever regretted not pursuing cultivation himself. According to the original Ke Yin's memories, Father had shown some spiritual sensitivity in his youth, but had chosen to follow the family tradition of tailoring instead.

"Your craftsmanship is just as worthy of respect," I told him honestly. "The robes you create last longer, provide better protection, and feel more comfortable than anything the sect's tailors produce. That's a form of cultivation too—perfecting your craft over decades of dedicated practice."

Father looked momentarily startled, then pleased. It was clear that he never expected such praise for his talents. "That's... a very mature perspective. You've grown wiser at that sect, not just stronger."

Before I could respond, we arrived at the house to find Mother waiting by the door, wooden spoon in hand and a mock-stern expression on her face.

"Finally! I was beginning to think you'd wandered all the way to the next village."

Father gave me a see-what-I-mean look before ducking past her into the house. "Sorry, dear. We got caught up in the festival preparations."

I followed, hastily adding, "Everything looks wonderful. The village has really outdone itself."

Mother's expression softened. "Well, it's not every day we get to celebrate being saved by immortals—especially when one of them is our own son."

As I passed her, she reached up to brush a leaf from my hair.

"Wash up before lunch," she instructed. "Immortal or not, I won't have you eating with dirty hands at my table."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, Mother."

As I headed to the washing basin, I caught Azure's amused presence in my mind.

"Maternal authority," he observed, "appears to transcend cultivation realms."

"Some powers," I agreed silently, "are universal constants."

Lunch was a simpler affair than breakfast, but no less delicious. Cold noodles with sesame sauce, cucumber slices seasoned with garlic and vinegar, and leftover dumplings from the previous day, quickly reheated.

As we ate, Mother filled us in on the festival plans. There would be music, performances by the village children, a speech by the village chief, and finally, lantern lighting to symbolize gratitude to the heavens.

"They're hoping you might say a few words too," she added, looking at me. "As a representative of the sect."

I nearly choked on a noodle. "Me? Wouldn't Liu Chang be better suited for that? He's the team leader."

"But you're one of us," Father pointed out. "The village's own immortal. It would mean more coming from you."

I wanted to protest further, but the hopeful expressions on their faces made it impossible. "I'll... think about what to say."

"That's my boy," Mother beamed.