Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 107

Chapter 107: Heavenly Tribulation

 

Who in this world lives without worries? Only immortals are carefree and free.

 

Ordinary mortals dwell on the earthly plane, bound to the cycle of life and death, enduring an unending mix of gains, losses, joys, and sorrows.

 

Fame, fortune, and wealth in this world are but fleeting clouds in the river of time. Only by ascending to the Purple Palace and joining the ranks of immortals can one achieve eternal fulfillment.

 

Ten years passed—a fleeting moment in the lifespan of a cultivator. Through refining his inner elixir, searching for rare elixirs, consuming Bodhi seeds, dual cultivation, and mastering the Five Elements techniques, Jiang Hanzheng’s cultivation was now just one step away from facing the tribulation.

 

By now, He Lang had spent several years in this cultivation world. No matter how novel the world seemed initially, he must have grown weary of it.

 

Jiang Hanzheng remained as warm and cheerful as in his youth. Though this cheerfulness was reserved only for He Lang, he had not lost his pure heart. Yet, He Lang knew deep down that this purity was no longer the same—it was merely a deliberate guise. However, it did not hinder He Lang’s affection for Jiang Hanzheng.

 

When Jiang Hanzheng first met He Lang, even a single glance at him would make him tremble, and a brief exchange of words could leave him mulling over it all night after returning to his room. Now, not only did he have He Lang all to himself, but he also dared to grow closer to him physically. He frequently took advantage of situations and played coy without hesitation.

 

Despite this, Jiang Hanzheng’s respect and admiration for He Lang never wavered. His lips would always form the words “Master” with utmost reverence.

 

He Lang once teased him, saying, “Your cultivation has surpassed mine. You should have graduated as my disciple ten years ago.”

 

Jiang Hanzheng’s brow twitched. Without a hint of hesitation, he wrapped an arm around He Lang’s waist and replied firmly, “No matter what, you will always be my master.”

 

He had said it years ago: if his master sought to sever their ties using this pretext, he would rather never grow up. What were cultivation and tribulation compared to this? They were insignificant.

 

Understanding Jiang Hanzheng’s stubbornness, He Lang pushed the young man away and walked into the courtyard. Gazing at the scattered blossoms on the ground, he turned to him and said, “All feasts must come to an end.”

 

He Lang enjoyed Jiang Hanzheng’s love for him, his complete trust and reliance on him, and their intimate, inseparable bond. Rather than being repulsed, he found some delight in it.

 

However, ultimately, no joy could last forever. Especially in the timeless cultivation world, such feelings would gradually fade. As Jiang Hanzheng matured, He Lang became increasingly aware that the day of his departure was drawing near.

 

Cultivators must await a fateful opportunity before facing tribulation—an epiphany or a shift in thought, elusive and unpredictable. Once the principles of all things and the true Dao are comprehended, the day of tribulation arrives.

 

He Lang had long been waiting for Jiang Hanzheng to reach this day, just as he awaited his own departure from this world.

 

Jiang Hanzheng, however, was deeply dissatisfied with He Lang’s statement that all feasts must end. In his mind, he and his master were bound together forever, with no end in sight.

 

Nonchalantly, he approached He Lang, raised his hand gently, and a stream of wood energy emerged, enveloping the large tree at the door. In moments, fresh buds sprouted, and blossoms bloomed. The once-barren tree, strewn with fallen petals, transformed into a vibrant display of spring.

 

Fragrant flowers filled the air. Jiang Hanzheng laughed lightly and said with confidence, “Immortality is just one step away. Achieving eternal life is no difficulty at all.”

 

Immortals possess endless lifespans, immune to death. Between them, there was no insurmountable obstacle like mortality. Their feast, therefore, would never end.

 

He Lang’s expression darkened slightly, but he refrained from awakening Jiang Hanzheng from his sweet dream too soon.

 

In contrast to Jiang Hanzheng, He Lang’s cultivation had made little progress over the past decade. Achieving immortality would take at least a hundred more years, yet Jiang Hanzheng eagerly anticipated ascending to immortality together.

 

If he were to confess his intent to abandon the pursuit of immortality now, Jiang Hanzheng might give up entirely, rendering all efforts thus far futile.

 

To wait for He Lang’s cultivation to catch up to his, Jiang Hanzheng had intentionally suppressed his own advancement, a fact that He Lang discovered and reproached him for.

 

Though Jiang Hanzheng appeared compliant outwardly, he remained stubborn at heart. He repeatedly acknowledged his mistake, but He Lang knew he had no intention of changing his course.

 

He Lang chose not to force him any further, instead reasoning with him patiently. “Suppressing your cultivation is detrimental. Moreover, it’s something you cannot suppress forever. How about this: you achieve immortality first, explore the celestial realm, and once you confirm it’s an interesting place, I’ll come find you. What do you think?”

 

Jiang Hanzheng listened quietly, his expression subdued as he pondered.

 

He knew this was the most logical plan, yet he was reluctant in his heart. What if his master never came to find him? Or what if his master came too late? He couldn’t bear the thought of living alone in the celestial realm, enduring lonely days.

 

Even if his master did come for him, the gap in cultivation could mean years, decades, or even centuries of separation. How could he endure such prolonged estrangement?

 

Jiang Hanzheng agreed verbally, but he had his own plans. If others knew, they would surely condemn him as mad.

 

Three months later, the sky seemed to shatter, celestial phenomena changed, winds howled, and clouds churned. Lightning flashed across the sky like cracks, and all the spiritual energy in the surroundings converged toward one point.

 

This energy gathered around Jiang Hanzheng like a vortex. Overhead, bolts of thunder and lightning seemed to lock onto him, waiting for the opportune moment to strike—the Heavenly Tribulation.

 

Heavenly Tribulation serves as nature’s restraint on powerful beings. Only by enduring its trials can one refine their body and transcend the mundane. Those who fail often succumb to mortal injuries. Even the lucky survivors must wait another hundred years for their next chance.

 

He Lang had made extensive preparations for this day. A month prior, he had laid down a formation using 81 top-quality spiritual stones, prepared several talismans to mitigate lightning damage, and forged a tribulation artifact with the remainder of his cultivation. With its aid, Jiang Hanzheng’s success was almost assured.

 

He had poured everything into these preparations because he had decided to leave this world.

 

When the first bolt of lightning struck, thunder roared, and He Lang watched Jiang Hanzheng intently.

 

A thick bolt of purple lightning descended with overwhelming force. Even as he watched, He Lang’s heart sank, fearing that Jiang Hanzheng might not withstand its might.

 

Fortunately, the formation activated, emitting a faint glow that seemed to protect the young cultivator at its center.

 

However, upon closer inspection, He Lang’s eyes widened in shock. The tribulation artifact he had painstakingly crafted showed no reaction. Not only that, but several spiritual stones within the formation were missing, disrupting its balance.

 

There was only one person who could have done this: Jiang Hanzheng himself.

 

A heavy weight settled in He Lang’s chest. The clear thoughts he had moments ago were now tangled like a frayed rope. Distracted by the thunderous impacts of the tribulation, he couldn’t help but fume at Jiang Hanzheng’s reckless defiance.

 

If this caused him to fail his mission and repeat this world’s cycle, he would have to think of a fitting punishment for his wayward disciple.

 

Amid the Heavenly Tribulation, Jiang Hanzheng endured unprecedented torment. When the first bolt struck, it felt like a hammer to his head, leaving his entire body numb. His flesh and blood bore the brunt of the searing pain, his body trembling as his consciousness flickered.

 

Yet, amidst this agony, his mind found a small refuge to wonder about his master’s feelings at that moment.

 

He hadn’t confessed his unwillingness to ascend alone for fear of angering his master. His tampering with the formation and artifact was a deliberate attempt to fail the tribulation. As long as the talismans protected his body, he wouldn’t be reduced to ashes. When he emerged defeated, his master surely wouldn’t blame him.

 

With such thoughts, even as his face twisted in pain, Jiang Hanzheng forced a faint smile.

 

The talismans to mitigate lightning damage proved effective, granting him brief reprieves to catch his breath. His body, though battered, remained intact enough to maintain his consciousness.

 

He held onto the thought that, after surviving this ordeal, he would see his master again. The blinding flashes of lightning before him seemed to transform into rays of hope.

 

But even so, the Heavenly Tribulation was no easy opponent.

 

A hidden spirit beast, Gua Tu, finally emerged, anxiously pawing at He Lang’s cheek to rouse him. “The formation’s balance has been broken. Its protective power has significantly weakened. He won’t survive the tribulation! If you don’t save him now, all efforts will be wasted!”

 

He Lang took a deep breath. “Is there another way?”

 

Gua Tu replied honestly, “Yes. You can use a forbidden technique to redirect the lightning, enduring part of the tribulation in his place.”

 

He Lang considered briefly before nodding resolutely. “Understood.”

 

Without hesitation, he sat down cross-legged and began searching for the forbidden technique, directing the newly descended lightning bolts onto himself.

 

After all, he was a man destined to leave this world. What value did his life hold? If it could be exchanged for Jiang Hanzheng’s safety, he would gladly do so.

 

Heaven and earth roared with thunder. The rain poured as if trying to extinguish the raging lightning. Jiang Hanzheng felt the oppressive bolts around him dissipate gradually, allowing him to finally exhale in relief.

 

He was covered in hundreds of wounds, his once-immaculate robes reduced to tatters. His body was a mass of blood and flesh, ravaged beyond recognition.

 

Yet he stubbornly fought the overwhelming exhaustion to open his eyes. Dragging his broken body, he staggered out of the smoky ruins, desperately searching for his master.

 

After an arduous search, he found him at last. But his master sat motionless as if he were a lifeless statue, his body scorched and devoid of breath.

 

The ground around He Lang was shattered, charred black from the lightning strikes, evidence of his direct confrontation with the tribulation. Without the protection of the formation, his survival was impossible.

 

Jiang Hanzheng’s mind reeled. The world spun around him, his vision darkening as he struggled to remain conscious. He stumbled forward and collapsed before his master, clutching his lifeless body.

 

Kneeling amidst the debris, Jiang Hanzheng cradled the stiff figure in his arms, his face etched with terror and disbelief.

 

He refused to believe that anything had happened to his master. He refused to accept it.

 

But scalding tears fell, one by one, onto He Lang’s face.

 

He choked on his words, his voice trembling as he muttered, “Master… Master… Master…”

 

Over and over, he called out, his tone alternating between softness and determination, his voice breaking as it echoed into the silent air. No response came.

 

With his final, anguished cry, the heavens seemed to still.

 

The storm abated, the skies cleared. Above, azure skies stretched endlessly, clouds drifting serenely.

 

But Jiang Hanzheng’s world was the opposite—clouded with darkness, rumbling with endless thunder, and drenched in a downpour that soaked him through.

 

Not even the first lightning strike had left him so helpless. Back then, he was fearless because he had someone to hold onto. With his master in his heart, he dared to defy the heavens.

 

Now, with that anchor gone, his world collapsed into despair. He was a fragile shell, vulnerable enough for even the weakest mortal to destroy.

 

Memories of his master flashed before him—decades of shared moments resurfacing, piece by piece.

 

Yet the sweeter the memory, the greater the pain.

 

The first half of his life was a desolate wasteland. It was his master who gave him a home, who gave him everything. He poured his heart into his cultivation, walking the path of righteousness without regret. Why, then, was his ending one of such profound loss?

 

Kneeling amidst the shattered ruins, Jiang Hanzheng buried his face in his master’s unmoving embrace. He sobbed for what felt like an eternity, only to realize a bitter truth:

 

His true tribulation was not the Heavenly Thunder, but his master.

 

This tribulation was one he could no longer overcome in this lifetime. He could only fall into an abyss, never to return. Even if his body remained intact, it was as if he had been reduced to ashes, leaving behind only a wandering soul with nowhere to go.

 

Author’s note: This ending isn’t too tragic, is it? I’ve written 100,000 words about this cultivation world—long-winded and dull, but relatively complete. I hope everyone finds it passable.

 

The next world will also feature a younger seme! This time, a slightly crazy and wolfish type (probably).

 

Feel free to leave comments!!! Just no scolding me, please…

 

TL – brother is dying backtoback