Monster Cultivation

People were at a loss for words. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Every year, the same ceremonies were held, and the results were usually moderate. Most times, it wasn’t impressive—just, okay.

The only expectations from the higher-ups were from the patriarch's twins. They wanted the results to be miserable, with the twins having no cultivable core—which would have worked in most of their favor, as it would publicly embarrass the patriarch and cause the clan to lose faith in his family, making him easier to replace.

The opposite happened: the kids inherited their father’s luck and both had high-scale cores. Yet, they weren't the center of people's attention. This dirty child was.

It was unprecedented. And better yet, the boy in question lacked any family ties.

The patriarch and the four grand wisemen—Manh Glen, Uaai Vlan, Timal Renna, and Quan Lesh—immediately took an interest in the child, already imagining how their plans might change.

Of course, one of the most impacted was Jiman, the man who partly owned the group house where Shawn and Drew lived in.

Two? From that same group house, two potential Core weavers had been discovered today?! Jiman was truly at a loss for words. Immediate regret for the way he’d treated those kids hit him like a mule’s kick to the head.

The patriarch stood up and asked with a booming voice, “Young boy, who's your father and mother? I would like to thank them for bringing you into this world.”

In truth, the patriarch wanted to know who the parents were so he could take the child away from them. Of course, he could do it by force, but public reputation mattered—even for someone with a less-than-stellar one like his. Taking away someone’s child was seen as a great evil. But seeing the state of the boy, would it really be so evil to save him from such a poor household?

The boy stammered, anxious. “I-I don’t—”

Jiman pushed through the crowd, desperately trying to reach the front. “Me! I adopted him, great patriarch!” he shouted.

Upon hearing that, the crowd parted for him.

The higher-ups eyed Jiman like he was prey. The patriarch smiled coldly. “Is that so? Good.”

Perhaps now wasn’t the time to act. After all, today was a day of celebration.

Drew didn’t clap or cheer along with the others. He cared—a part of him was even envious of Shun. Who wouldn’t be?

The scale of one’s core was crucial. It determined Their Ferna generation rate, the quality of the Ferna, how durable the core was, and the pace at which they could progress.

Compared to a top-scale core, Drew's core was equal to a small wooden cup, slowly being filled with water. Whereas the top-scale core was a titanium jar under a high-pressure faucet, constantly being refilled.

In almost every way, the top-scale core was at least four times better.

Drew made his way through the crowd and stepped outside, meeting the intense light of the sun.

It didn’t matter in the long run. Drew knew this. After all, the one who will reach the number three ranking in the future is him.

Against all odds, future Drew survived—like a damn cockroach that refused to die—and he kept growing stronger.

It took future him 800 years to accomplish it. This time would be different. He had all the experience, knowledge, and instincts from his future life. He was a walking library of the future. Sure, there were things he couldn’t remember, but the important stuff? He could.

Drew wasn’t sure why he was gifted this chance, but he knew one thing: He was going to become he number one Core weaver in the world.

And when he does, he’d finally achieve true happiness. Satisfaction. For he would have nothing to fear but his own power.

Drew caught himself smiling too much and quickly wore a neutral expression. He was excited.

Come on, world. I’m more than ready for you now.

Mufru Village was rather small. Among the seven clans in the region, it was the smallest. But it was also the youngest clan. Despite that, their school was the second best. Only the oldest village (Ryupan) in the region had a better school for Core weavers, far surpassing Mufru’s.

Drew sighed as he stood in front of the giant white walls, waiting in line to be let in. Even if Ryupan had the best school, the clans only trained their clansmen. They were clan schools, not sects, after all.

The kid in front of Drew entered through the gate, and Drew stepped forward. The guard in green armor asked, “Name and family name?”

“Drew Eclipse.”

The guard flipped through the stack of pages in his hands before nodding. “Enter.”

Drew walked through the gate. The space inside was massive—big enough to fit a hundred small houses.

And unlike the usual wooden buildings that made up 99% of the village, every building here was made of concrete.

Drew looked around, searching for the dormitory, where they would now live until they became second years.

Then Drew spotted where the student dormitory was, judging by the number of students heading toward the largest two-story building.

Drew frowned. Of course, he’d forgotten something as non-essential as that. Sure, during the years he’d written down all the important things he had to remember for the future, but this? He hadn’t thought of it.

And, of course, he’d written it all in a language that hadn’t been developed yet. One of the kids at the group house had found his notes once but thought it was a bunch of gibberish.

Drew made his way to the dormitory among a crowd of other kids. There were a total of about ninety children.

Less than thirty-five percent of the kids that attended the ceremony had cultivable cores. That number was pretty good. It was all because their common ancestor had been a core weaver.

Bloodlines mattered—a good example being the twins of the patriarch. They didn't have high scale cores just because they were lucky; it was because they inherited their father’s genes.

When Drew entered the dormitory, he stood aside, observing the kids settling into the massive space.

There were no separate rooms. It was similar to the group home, except back there, he at least rented his own room. The purpose of this setup was to force the soldiers of tomorrow to bond and grow close like siblings.

Everyone took their spots around the large room, placing their small bags down and marking the floorboard near the wall with their names.

Drew picked a spot at the back. Most of the others were trying to grab spots closest to the front door, thinking it would give them an advantage if they experienced a sudden breakthrough and needed to rush to the instructor's quarters.

But Drew thought it was silly. Breakthroughs depended more on talent and hard work. Being closer to the door wasn’t going to help them as much as they thought.

After jotting his name on the board, Drew noticed someone else taking a spot nearby—Millia.

Drew paused, staring at her for a moment. Seeing her alive stirred strange emotions in his heart, and reliving this moment brought back a flood of memories.

The thing about having memories of his future self was that he no longer was his original self. It was like he was merged between his past and future.

She glanced at him. "What?"

"You’ve got a cobweb on your shoulder," Drew quickly said.

Her eyes widened with worry, but she quickly put on a stern expression and swiped at her shoulder.

"Oh. Thanks," she said before leaving the building.

Drew let out a long sigh.

An hour later, a bell rang, signaling the start of their first lesson. So they all gathered in a big classroom located a small distance away from the dormitory.

“There are ten cultivation realms,” the instructor, Maroon announced to the class. “Each realm grants a unique title.”

She pointed to a large paper board behind her and began listing them: “Woodwill Initiate, Ironbark Disciple, Bronzeheart Core weaver, Steelmind Adept, Mountain King, Titanblood Ascendant, Dragon-Eating Mortal, Descended Immortal, Lamented Sovereign, and finally, Sovereign.”

The strongest in the village was only a Steelmind Adept—the patriarch himself.

“Any questions?” the instructor asked.

A boy raised his hand. “What rank are you, teacher?”

“I’m a Bronzeheart Core weaver. To graduate, you must become one. Only then can you truly call yourself a Core weaver.”

“Oh, and us?” he asked curiously.

“You’re nothing yet. That’s why I’m here to teach you how to weave your core, to cultivate.”

Drew pretended to listen, but his mind wandered. Why bother paying attention to something he already knew better than the instructor?

The teacher scanned the room before pointing to a kid named Rei. “I’m sure your father taught you how to cultivate. Would you like to demonstrate for the class?”

Rei jumped up eagerly. It was clear from his expression that he was a model student—the kind of kid who would make the perfect soldier.

“Yes, ma’am.” He walked to the front and spoke with confidence. “To cultivate, we must have a calm mind. An easy way to reach this state is through concentration.” He sat down and closed his eyes. “Imagine your core and begin selectively removing impurities from the Ferna.”

Drew was already doing that. He just wasn’t in a position. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t really seeing anything—his mind was deep within his own mental space.

He visualized his core: a large orb with streams of green energy flowing from it. The energy was murky with filth—impurities. The more impurities there were, the more space they took up, leaving less room for the actual Ferna.

There were ten levels to cleansing one’s Ferna within each realm. Once the Ferna is purified enough, a Core Weaver would use it to refine their core, driving it to evolve and ascend to the next realm.

With each evolution, the Ferna produced would be cleaner, and the cycle would repeat until there wasn’t a single speck of impurity left.

In the beginning, it was easy to spot the impurities. They looked like huge, dark rocks in a stream and were incredibly fragile.

Drew focused on one of these ‘rocks’ and will it out of his Ferna. His body would naturally process it as waste and dispose of it.

“Drew !” someone shouted, yanking him back to reality.

Drew blinked and realized that at some point, his eyes had closed to help him focus.

The instructor was looking at him with disappointment. She had seen students like this before—those who didn’t appreciate the blessings they were given. It seemed he was one of them.

Still, Drew had a medium-scale core. Even if that was average for the class, it would be a waste for him to fall behind, like those with bottom- or low-scale cores.

The instructor sighed. “Please pay attention… Can you recall what Rei just said?”

Drew nodded and stood up, calmly explaining his understanding of cultivation.

The expressions of the kids and even the instructor brightened. It seemed he really had been listening, despite his closed eyes.

But at the same time, it had been disrespectful.

“Good,” she said firmly. “But next time, please show respect to the person speaking.”

“Yes, ma’am. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Take your seat.”

“Thank you.” He sat back down.

The instructor scanned the room and her gaze settled on Shun, who looked more anxious than ever. He wasn’t wearing his old clothes anymore—it seemed Jiman was desperately trying to mend their relationship. He had a long sleeve lime green shirt and pants of similar color.

The instructor pointed to Shun. “Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.”

“Excellent. Your first assignment is now set, and it’s worth a total of ten points. The task: a race to reach Level Two within the next hour. Your performance will determine how many points you earn, and these points will decide everything—your quality of life, access to locations, your meals, your campus privileges, and even your financial allowances.”

It determined whether you lived as a starving peasant eating the same bland food daily—or like a king.

The announcement stirred the kids. Some were anxious, others excited.

Drew, on the other hand, scoffed.