Monsters also need to cultivate immortality scientifically (1): Master and Apprentice Play

When his vision brightened again, Si Qi found himself in a completely new world.  

Memories flooded his mind, allowing him to experience, from an outsider’s perspective, a long life spanning as much as three hundred years.  

This was a world of cultivation.  

Humanity was divided into two groups—mortals and cultivators—based on the presence or absence of spiritual roots.  

The former had short lifespans and weak strength, utterly defenseless against supernatural forces, their status as insignificant as ants.  

The latter defied the heavens, drawing upon the spiritual energy of the world for their own use. Cold-hearted and detached, they spared no effort to ascend to the next realm of power.  

Humans possessed spiritual roots, and so did other living beings.  

Creatures capable of absorbing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth were known as demonic beasts and spirit plants, respectively. The former were often enslaved or slaughtered by cultivators, their stance naturally opposed to them; the latter, meanwhile, could not escape being plucked, processed, and refined into elixirs, even more powerless to resist compared to the demonic beasts.  

Si Qi’s current identity was that of a demonic beast.  

At just over three hundred years old, he was still a baby in the eyes of other demonic cultivators, having only recently taken human form and gained sentience. It was an age where everything in the world fascinated him.  

According to the original trajectory of his life, Si Qi—or rather, the original owner of this body—shortly after assuming human form, relied on his innate formidable strength and extraordinary luck to steadily level up by defeating enemies, collecting treasures, and overcoming one adversary after another. He eventually became one of the most prominent figures among the demonic beasts, earning high prestige and widespread fame.  

Later, unable to bear the persecution and enslavement of demonic beasts by cultivators, the original owner resolved to change this unjust fate, leading millions of demonic beasts in a great war against the cultivation world.  

This prolonged conflict between humans and demonic beasts lasted for many years. In the end, the cultivation world—rife with infighting and lacking unity—was the first to buckle under the strain of this endless war of attrition. Realizing that demonic beasts were no longer a race that could be slaughtered at will, the cultivators took the initiative to extend an olive branch, and both sides ceased hostilities.  

From then on, demonic beasts became a race on equal footing with cultivators. They no longer had to suffer persecution, nor fear being captured and killed for no reason, their corpses stripped and refined into materials after death.

From any perspective, this seemed like a perfectly satisfying world trajectory.  

Yet, from the standpoint of the Heavenly Dao, the situation took on a completely different appearance—what should have been a world of conflict and mutual advancement between two opposing races had turned into a childish game of harmony where everyone played nice. Over the next few thousand years, cultivators would stagnate in their development, unable to obtain vast resources from the demonic realm, causing their civilization to grind to a halt. Meanwhile, the inherently lazy and intellectually stagnant demonic beasts would grow increasingly powerful over time, eventually trampling the cultivators underfoot and turning the cultivation world entirely into their domain.  

Thus, the Heavenly Dao took matters into its own hands, sending a certain cultivator—one who had always resented the reconciliation between the two races—back into the past.  

This cultivator had a complicated history with the original owner. On the verge of death, he had once been saved by the original owner. Skilled in flattery, sycophancy, and playing the victim, he shamelessly clung to the original owner’s side.  

The original owner treated him like a little brother, never holding his human identity against him, always looking out for him when possible, and rarely keeping secrets from him.  

Had an ordinary person been in this cultivator’s shoes, they would have been endlessly grateful for such a generous leader, swearing lifelong loyalty without hesitation.  

But this cultivator’s nature was truly despicable. He envied the original owner’s overwhelming luck, resenting his own misfortune; he seethed at how the original owner stumbled upon treasures wherever he went, furious that all the benefits fell into the other’s hands; he burned with jealousy at the original owner’s fame and adoration, ashamed that he had to swallow his pride and play the lackey; and he hated how the original owner had gained everything while he remained nameless and unknown.  

Even though the original owner had saved his life, he harbored resentment because the original owner hadn’t healed his leg, leaving him a cripple who was mocked wherever he went.  

Even though the original owner always shared a portion of his spoils with his followers, the cultivator believed that since he had humbled himself to serve the original owner, sacrificing so much, the original owner was being stingy by keeping the lion’s share and tossing him mere scraps. He convinced himself that the original owner was deliberately mistreating him, that he was nothing but a scoundrel.  

On top of that, this cultivator’s parents and family had been slaughtered by a powerful demonic beast in a city-wide massacre—only he had escaped, abandoning his kin to save himself. Though he was cold-hearted by nature and felt no real grief for his family, the “annihilation of his clan” still gave him a convenient excuse to blame the entire demonic race. He masked his envy as righteous vengeance, framing his hatred as an unending blood feud, and thus justified his loathing for all demonic beasts around him. He believed that any dislike directed at him was due to prejudice against his human identity, that everyone looked down on him deliberately.  

It was precisely because of this mindset—always feeling the world owed him more than it gave, always convinced that fate had singled him out for unfairness—that his underhanded schemes to sow discord between the two races were eventually exposed. The original owner, showing no mercy, struck him down on the spot.  

But the Heavenly Dao, seeing potential in him, sent him back to the past.  

Returning to the past, the cultivator was ecstatic—not only had he escaped death, but he had also gained the favor of the Heavenly Dao. Through the memories imparted to him, he learned a forbidden technique to steal another’s fortune.

Already arrogant by nature, he became utterly convinced that he was the legendary Chosen One—that his every action was the will of the Heavenly Dao.  

His first target was none other than his former boss.  

Having spent years as the original owner’s lackey, he knew better than anyone else the exact timing and circumstances of every treasure the original owner had obtained, every stroke of luck he had encountered on his journey after leaving seclusion.  

Having envied the original owner his entire life, the cultivator had long planned to replicate his rise to power—stealing not only his opportunities and connections but even his love interests.  

The first thing he did after rebirth was to secretly use the Heavenly Dao’s fortune-stripping technique, locating the original owner and seizing his destiny for himself. He left the original owner cursed by the heavens, the unluckiest being in the world.  

It was laughable—the original owner, who should have become an immensely powerful demonic cultivator, was reduced to tripping with every step, choking on water, and barely escaping death at every turn. Forget stumbling upon fortuitous encounters; simply surviving another moment was a miracle.  

While the original owner struggled, plagued by inexplicable misfortune at every turn, the so-called “Chosen One” followed the original owner’s path with eerie precision. He smoothly claimed all the treasures and opportunities that should have belonged to the original owner. Mimicking his words, copying his charisma, he inherited the connections and legacies meant for the original owner, soaring to power without a single obstacle. In no time at all, he replaced the original owner as the world-renowned powerhouse.  

Adored by fairies, favored by nobles, worshipped by followers—he reveled in glory and indulgence. Yet, he never forgot his mission to oppress the demonic beasts, relentlessly driving a wedge between the two races, stoking hatred behind the scenes, and framing others for his own crimes.  

Worst of all, he repeatedly pinned his most heinous atrocities on the original owner—who, despite endless suffering, kept gritting his teeth and struggling forward.  

When he massacred an entire sect of 1,800 people out of petty vengeance, he fabricated evidence to blame the original owner, painting him as a heartless butcher.  

He rallied the entire cultivation world against the original owner, turning him into a universally despised outcast, hunted wherever he went. He justified the persecution of demonic beasts by pointing to the original owner’s “unforgivable sins,” making him the scapegoat for the entire race. Many demonic beasts, unaware of the truth, turned their anger on the original owner, leaving him isolated and tormented beyond measure.

Under the systematic oppression orchestrated by the time-traveling cultivator, the status of the demonic beasts deteriorated day by day. The original owner, despite being plagued by endless misfortune, tirelessly fought for justice on behalf of his kind. Stripped of his cultivation techniques, treasures, connections, and even his former strength—while being relentlessly targeted by both cultivators and his own misguided brethren—the bitterness and helplessness he endured were unimaginable.  

Then came the day when the original owner, who had been carefully concealing his whereabouts, fell into a trap set by the time-traveler, who sought to eradicate him once and for all. Lured under the pretense of rescuing his fellow demonic beasts, he was ambushed mid-journey by the time-traveler and an army of cultivators.  

Surrounded, he faced nothing but hatred—scornful glares, vicious curses. Innocent of all crimes pinned on him, he had no way to defend himself. Captured, he endured seven days and nights of torture, his soul gnawed and torn apart as the time-traveler mocked his suffering.  

Worse still, he was forced to watch as wave after wave of his closest friends, rushing to save him upon hearing the news, were captured and slaughtered one by one before his eyes—each death crueler than the last, orchestrated deliberately to break him.  

His friends were flayed alive, their bones extracted, every organ refined into cultivation materials for the very people tormenting them. The original owner wailed in anguish, begging for mercy, unable to bear the horror unfolding before him. In the end, overwhelmed by despair, he chose self-destruction—unwilling to let more comrades throw their lives away for his sake.  

And this was precisely the outcome the Heavenly Dao had desired.  

In this world, merely killing a cultivator’s physical body meant nothing—their soul would endure.  

Only by forcing them to willingly self-destruct could their soul be utterly annihilated, erased from reincarnation, never to stir trouble again.  

With the original owner gone, the Heavenly Dao was satisfied. Everything now proceeded as it had intended.  

The original owner—a demonic beast who had once yearned for peace, righteous and loyal to his core—had been driven to self-annihilation. His death became the final spark. The demonic beasts, robbed of their strongest advocate, could no longer suppress their fury. Those who had fought alongside him, bound by life-and-death bonds, severed all ties with humanity and led their kin into all-out war against the cultivation world.  

With their backs against the wall, the demonic beasts knew: resistance might mean death, but submission guaranteed extinction.  

They threw themselves into battle without regard for cost or consequence, slaughtering every human in sight.  

The mortal realm was engulfed in flames. Soon, the world became a wasteland of carnage.

Massacres became a frequent occurrence, and the lives of mortals grew even more miserable—after all, cultivators emerged from among the mortals themselves.  

Furious at the escalating bloodshed, the cultivators cast aside all restraint and waged total war against the demonic beasts.  

While the two sides clashed in brutal conflict, the time-traveler, bolstered by his overwhelming power and the backing of the Heavenly Dao, soared to unprecedented heights. He ruthlessly eliminated any who stood in his way, even assassinating an immortal sage who sought to end the war. With no opposition left, he crowned himself the Martial God, uniting all of humanity under his tyrannical rule.  

Without a shred of mercy, he drove the demonic beasts to the brink, watching coldly as the flames of war spread ever wider, the stench of death permeating the land.  

All the while, he reveled in boundless glory, amassing the world’s treasures and living a life of unrestrained indulgence.  

According to the Heavenly Dao’s calculations, this war would rage on for a thousand years before finally ceasing. The seeds of hatred planted deep within the demonic beasts would ensure their relentless attacks on humanity, forcing humans to grow stronger at an unprecedented pace. Though resources and land would be depleted in the process, such losses would recover naturally in just a few millennia—a small price to pay for the rapid advancement of civilization.  

Tens of thousands of years later, cultivators who ascended from this planet would journey to other worlds, accelerating the development of countless other civilizations. The “brief war” and the “sacrificed demonic beasts” were merely growing pains in the grand scheme of progress.  

The moment Si Qi found himself in was just after his luck had been stolen by the time-traveler, leaving him plagued by misfortune. Starving for seven days and nights, driven to desperation, he was about to resort to highway robbery—unknowingly lured by the time-traveler into cultivator territory. His next step would bring him face-to-face with the immortal sage who was about to ascend the mountain.  

The sage, disgusted by the demonic beast’s attempted robbery, beat him mercilessly. Not only did the original owner fail to get any food, but he was also left battered and humiliated.  

Too weak to fight back, he had no choice but to flee, wounded and seething with resentment. Before escaping, he spat out a few defiant threats—earning himself a bounty from the strongest sect in the cultivation world. Thus began his nightmarish life on the run, where his misfortunes only grew worse with each passing day.  

Xiu Xiu fretted anxiously: [Master, your luck is so terrible right now… Should you really go meet that immortal sage?]

Wouldn’t it be better to lay low for now?

Recalling the immortal sage’s appearance, Si Qi rubbed his hollow stomach, licked his lips, and declared with righteous confidence: [I’m a demonic beast—an animal. Isn’t it perfectly normal for a little creature to beg for food when hungry? Why bother hunting for meals the hard way?]

Xiu Xiu was dumbfounded: [I-Is that so?]

He felt his master had never been this… unambitious before. Something about this reaction felt off.  

Si Qi justified shamelessly: [I was literally a pet in my past life! Getting fed is totally natural!]

Xiu Xiu remained uneasy: [But you’re a demonic beast. Entering human territory is risky—what if your identity gets exposed?]

Si Qi asserted with absolute certainty: [Relax, it won’t!]

Just as Xiu Xiu was about to ask why, several cultivators descended gracefully from the mountain, their robes fluttering with an air of transcendent elegance.  

Peering through Si Qi’s vision, Xiu Xiu instantly understood.  

No sooner had Si Qi plastered on an eager grin and stumbled forward than his foot caught on nothing—and he face-planted spectacularly onto the ground, performing an unintentional grand bow.  

“Ow!”

His chin smacked hard against the dirt, leaving him clutching it in pain.  

The cultivators, abruptly greeted by this spontaneous prostration: “…………”

The youngest disciple blinked. “What’s wrong with him?”

His senior brother observed dryly: “Looks like he’s starving.” 

The thunderous growl from the stranger’s stomach was unmistakable. Staggering weakly, his eyes shone with the desperate gleam of a desert traveler spotting an oasis—pure, undiluted hope.

Yes, he must indeed be starving.  

Si Qi clambered up from the ground, patting his dust-covered robes with an embarrassed expression, looking thoroughly disheveled.  

Ah, what a terrible first impression! What if Chu Feng thought he was just a clumsy fool?  

Then he raised his head, his bright, eager eyes locking onto Chu Feng amidst the group of cultivators. With a sheepish grin, he carefully took one slow step after another until he stood before Chu Feng and pleaded, “Immortal Lord, I’m so hungry—could you spare me something to eat?”  

The disciples collectively held their breath. Who in the entire cultivation world didn’t know that Immortal Venerable Chu Feng was cold by nature, disinclined to speak, and treated others with icy indifference? He never showed anyone a shred of warmth.  

Though this stranger before them emitted faint traces of spiritual energy, the fact that he was starving to death meant he hadn’t yet reached the stage of fasting—at most, he was at Qi Refining realm.  

How could such a nobody possibly catch the Immortal Venerable’s attention? If he offended him, they might all suffer the consequences.  

Chu Feng’s eyes narrowed.  

His cultivation was profound enough that he could see through Si Qi’s true identity at a glance—a demonic beast. A demonic beast, bold enough to approach cultivators and beg for food? Was he an idiot, or just recklessly brave?  

Either way, Chu Feng had no intention of helping a suspicious demonic beast.  

Moreover, this demonic beast had already achieved human form, meaning his abilities couldn’t be weak. There was no way he would actually starve to the point of stumbling around pathetically, looking overjoyed at their arrival. This was almost certainly a scheme.  

That said, even if it was a scheme, Chu Feng wasn’t the type to kill indiscriminately without cause. His voice frosty, he said, “I won’t kill you. Leave. Now.”  

The disciples, witnessing Chu Feng threaten to kill someone just for asking a single question, immediately stiffened, even their breaths turning shallow—lest the slightest noise provoke the Immortal Venerable’s wrath.

But who was Si Qi? He wasn’t the least bit intimidated by Chu Feng’s threat. Pitifully, he stretched out his grubby, dust-covered hands, cupping them in front of Chu Feng like a beggar’s bowl, and implored, “I really haven’t eaten in days. Couldn’t you spare me just a little something? How could you bear to see me starve? Hmm?”  

Then, with the wide, watery eyes of a wronged youth, he gazed up at Chu Feng—innocent and pitiable, enough to melt the hearts of onlookers.  

A few disciples nearly reached for their own fasting pills right then and there, but with the Immortal Venerable present, they didn’t dare move a muscle.  

Chu Feng stared down at Si Qi with an inscrutable expression, studying those bright, pleading eyes for a long moment. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he lifted a hand and produced a pristine white jade vial filled with dozens of top-grade fasting pills.  

The disciples, who had just been fearing for Si Qi’s life, now collectively held their breaths, their eyes burning with envy at the sight of such a treasure being casually handed to a mere mortal.  

Si Qi eagerly popped a few pills into his mouth, chewing them like candy, then beamed at Chu Feng. “You’re so nice~ I like you!”  

The surrounding disciples sucked in a sharp, horrified breath.  

Hiss—  

This guy had nerves!  

One particularly timid disciple, unable to stomach the thought of bloodshed, peeked nervously at the Immortal Venerable, half-expecting him to crush the brazen mortal with a single finger.  

But Chu Feng didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow. His expression remained utterly indifferent, as if he hadn’t even heard the remark—and showed no intention of punishing the speaker. The disciple slowly exhaled in relief, wiping cold sweat from his brow.  

Alas, his respite was short-lived.  

The next second, the shameless freeloader—still unsatisfied after gobbling up several top-grade fasting pills—cheerfully piped up again:  

“Immortal Lord~ You look so wealthy! Do you need any new disciples right now? I think I’m quite talented—perfect for cultivation! How about taking me in as your disciple? I’m obedient, well-behaved, and absolutely worth the investment~”  

The disciples: “…………”

Just where did this outrageous character come from? No wonder he was acting so strangely from the start—he was scheming for this all along!  

Ugh! What a cunning fox!  

Chu Feng flicked his sleeve and said coldly, “Take what you’ve been given and leave at once.”  

Si Qi shamelessly pressed, “Aw, come on~ Oof!”  

He had tried to reach out and tug at Chu Feng’s sleeve, but the moment he lifted his foot—wham!—he face-planted spectacularly in front of everyone again. Rubbing his sore chin as he picked himself up, he just grinned as if it were nothing.  

Now the onlookers finally understood why this person, despite having spiritual energy and wearing decent-quality robes, looked so utterly disheveled and destitute.  

Tripping with every step—just how hopelessly clumsy was he? This iswas truly an eye-opener.  

A few couldn’t help but snicker right in front of him.  

Chu Feng’s brow furrowed slightly.  

He could tell that Si Qi’s falls weren’t an act—the boy genuinely had no control over his constant stumbling.  

His limbs moved naturally, and he didn’t seem physically impaired or slow to react.  

Chu Feng wasn’t the type to meddle in others’ affairs. Years of cultivation had honed his focus solely on the Dao, and he typically avoided unnecessary entanglements.  

Yet today, for some reason, the sight of this boy stirred an inexplicable tightness in his chest—an unwelcome sensation, yet one he couldn’t shake.  

Before he realized it, his fingers had already moved, performing a quick divination toward Si Qi.  

A moment later, Chu Feng was left speechless.  

The sheer, unprecedented magnitude of misfortune clinging to this youth was almost impressive.  

He had no choice but to warn him: “Your luck is abysmal.”  

Si Qi beamed and nodded. “A little, yeah. But not the worst—after all, the first person I met was you.”

With a perfectly natural expression, he smoothly delivered a line that could melt hearts—  

“If meeting you required spending all my luck, then I’d gladly trade a lifetime of fortune just for this one encounter.”  

Chu Feng: “…………”  

Disciples: “…………”  

The air grew so thick with secondhand embarrassment that the disciples wished they could sink into the earth and vanish. Yet Si Qi, unfazed, brushed the dust off his robes and carefully—one deliberate step at a time—made his way back to Chu Feng’s side.  

“Are you sure you don’t want to take me in?” he pressed, eyes sparkling. “I’m clever, obedient, and adorable—totally worth raising. You won’t regret it!”  

Chu Feng: “……”  

Was he asking to become a disciple… or a pet?  

Chu Feng stared at Si Qi’s harmless, puppy-eyed expression. Logically, he knew this was a demonic beast—a stranger with unclear motives, possibly even hidden schemes. Yet his traitorous heart kept pounding, urging him to say yes, agree now, don’t refuse!  

So he rationalized it.  

If he kept him close, he could monitor his actions. If he plotted anything, he would be there to stop it immediately.  

After a long pause, Chu Feng finally spoke: “Fine.”  

The disciples, who had been waiting to see the brazen fool get ruthlessly rejected: ？？！！！