Surprisingly Enough(NOT), Common Sense Is Overpowered in Cliché Cultivation World

1.42 Return

“This senior… was quite something.”

Ning murmured softly as he finished comprehending the scroll left behind by Patriarch Mi.

Ning exhaled slowly.

He had long understood that the essence of a cultivation technique was never truly fixed.

A manual could describe the same technique, word for word, yet two cultivators might walk entirely different roads depending on how they interpreted it. In the end, cultivation was not about copying movements, it was about understanding intent.

For Ning, the core of the Pure Qi Sutra was compression.

Compress the qi within the body again and again, squeezing it tighter until impurities can no longer remain. Refine through density. Purity born from pressure. That was the route Ning followed, borrowing inspiration from concepts he had once learned on Earth, compression ratios, limits, structural integrity.

But the interpretation recorded in this scroll was different.

Very different.

Here, the Pure Qi Sutra was not about compression.

It was about clashing.

Instead of gently refining qi by pressure, the cultivator deliberately forced streams of qi to collide within the meridians. The violent impact would shatter impurities, shedding them like slag struck from molten metal.

At first glance, the idea was reckless.

Qi clashing within the meridians? One mistake, and the cultivator wouldn’t be refining impurities, they’d be refining themselves into a corpse.

Yet Ning’s brow furrowed, not in dismissal, but in admiration.

What impressed him wasn’t the concept itself. Ideas of violent refinement weren’t rare in cultivation manuals. What was rare was the method.

The scroll detailed a precise rhythm of circulation, angles of collision, and subtle buffering techniques that allowed the qi to clash without spiraling out of control. Every clash was controlled and calculated. 

Someone capable of executing this within the narrow confines of the meridians would need two things:

Extraordinary control over spiritual energy.
And a mentality bordering on arrogance.

Not confidence.

Arrogance.

Because such a path left no room for hesitation.

Without a spiritual sense, or something akin to Ning’s Know Thyself, attempting this method would normally be a fool’s errand.

“Then again… a fool is called a fool because they only listen to themselves and walk their path regardless of opposition.” NIng mused.

He remembered what he had heard about Mi Sheng, the Mi Family’s inner-sect genius, that he was extremely arrogant. It made sense; in these parts, anyone who could enter the inner sect was praised to the heavens.

When Ning had first heard about him, he had assumed this senior was just another copy-pasted arrogant figure, no different from Xiao Hong. But now, sitting alone with the scroll, he understood the difference.

In a world where supreme power could truly belong to oneself, such a mentality wasn’t entirely wrong. Ruthless focus, unwavering belief, complete disregard for doubt, it could forge an extremely strong Dao heart.

Of course, the downsides were just as clear.

Such people rarely had many allies.

The Mi Family’s current predicament was proof enough.

Ning shook his head lightly.

He didn’t possess such a demonic mentality.

But what he did have was something else.

His control over spiritual energy had reached a level even he hadn’t fully appreciated until now. Through constant refinement, archery practice, and meticulous circulation, his qi control had become refined.

Especially, since he had increased his repertoire of qi control exercises. From splitting qi into fine threads, coating objects with thin, stable layers instead of flooding them, releasing power in short pulses rather than continuous flow, and even briefly reversing circulation to test his limits.

Many experiments failed, but the ones that remained sharpened his foundation. Without such control, his earlier ability to fight so many beasts would have resulted in qi depletion much earlier.

More importantly, with Know Thyself, this dangerous method ceased to be blind experimentation. 

Safe.

Or at least, as safe as such a method could ever be.

Ning closed his eyes.

Following the scroll’s guidance, he guided two streams of qi through his meridians, carefully, deliberately, then allowed them to collide.

There was no explosion, just a subtle tremor.

Again.

And again.

The process continued quietly. There was no dramatic sensation, no immediate breakthrough. To the naked eye, nothing had changed. Even the numerical feedback he usually relied on was absent since he was using the 3D model function.

But Ning could feel it.

Impurities flaking away. Qi growing sharper, clearer, like a blade repeatedly tempered against itself.

After stabilizing the rhythm, Ning practiced for a while longer, slowly refining his control.

Finally, he opened his eyes and let out a breath.

“This deal…” he muttered, a faint smile forming,
“…was worth it.”

...

“So, are you returning to the sect, Brother Ning?” Patriarch Mi asked.

As for why someone so much older than Ning addressed him as brother, it was simple.

For the purpose of building connections.

In this world, seniority wasn’t determined by age, but by strength. Those with the stronger fists stood higher, and Ning had already proven himself worthy of equal standing.

If anyone found that demeaning, Patriarch Mi would only scoff. Cultivation wasn’t just about fighting; it was about human relations. Power opened doors, but connections kept them open.

Just look at Ning. Without his earlier interactions, he wouldn’t have reached his current stage so smoothly.

“Yes,” Ning replied as he carefully packed his belongings. “I’ve already recovered from my injury, and it would be rude to impose any longer. Moreover, my fields still need tending.”

He handled the sealed containers with particular care; inside were barley seeds.

He wasn’t lying.

Although he and Old Zhou had an agreement to watch over each other’s fields during missions, Ning still felt uneasy leaving his land entirely in someone else’s hands. After all, those fields were built from his own effort and sweat.

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason.

The real reason was that he didn’t want to return alongside Xiao Fan.

After everything that had happened, Ning had more than enough confidence in Xiao Fan’s ability to attract trouble. If he waited for Xiao Fan to come out of seclusion and traveled with him, Ning could already imagine the disastrous situations that would follow.

“Still,” Patriarch Mi said, “I was surprised to learn that Brother Ning is also a spiritual farmer. I truly didn’t expect it.”

That surprise was genuine.

During their interactions, Patriarch Mi had found Ning knowledgeable and grounded. The two had even exchanged thoughts on crop rotation, spiritual soil balance, and plant compatibility, conversations that went far beyond surface-level talk.

Y'know someone like Ning whose fighting prowess was strong would usually engage in something more prestigious and profitable.

Ning just shrugged it off. He knew that the Patriarch Mi was just trying to hype him up from before, and build a connection. He didn't hate such behaviour, since this was one of the most viable path of survival in such a world.

Ning's thought moved quickly, but he slowly reached into his pockets, and handed over a thin parchment.

“Please give this to Xiao Fan. Since I’m leaving early and can’t meet him, consider it an apology.”

“Very well,” Patriarch Mi nodded. “Leave it to me.”

The parchment contained several basic qi control exercises, not nearly as advanced as Ning’s own methods, but solid nonetheless.

They were of little use to Ning now, but they were more than enough to build goodwill with Xiao Fan.

As long as that guy didn’t drag him into unnecessary trouble, Ning was more than happy to stay on good terms.

After all… the protagonist Halo could be quite useful when used correctly.

...

Ning left the Mi Family estate just before noon.

The road wound through low hills and sparse woodland, not dangerous per se, but far from safe.

This stretch lay between towns, where patrols were rare and travelers scarce. Ning kept his pace steady, his senses extended just enough to catch any movement without exhausting himself.

That was when he saw them.

A woman in pale robes sprinted down the dirt path ahead, her breathing ragged, hair loose and fluttering wildly. Her face was pale with fear, her eyes glossy as she stumbled once, nearly falling.

Behind her, two men ran aggressively with blades in their hands. Their shouts rang out loudly.

“Stop right there!”

“You can’t run forever!”

Ning slowed slightly, staring at the scene in silence.

The timing was impeccable. The location was isolated. The woman was beautiful in a fragile, pitiable way. The pursuers were crude and violent-looking.

Ning rubbed his chin. This was a textbook hero saves the beauty scenario. A beautiful woman chased by villains gets saved. Villains get beaten. Gratitude ensues. Perhaps a tearful thank-you. Perhaps a fateful bond.

Normally, this kind of thing should happen to Xiao Fan. Not him.

As Ning hesitated, the woman’s eyes suddenly met his.

Hope flared instantly.

“Please!” she cried, changing direction and sprinting straight toward him. “Help me! They’re trying to kill me!”

“Hey!” one of the men shouted, pointing at Ning. “Don’t interfere!”

"Save me!" The woman shouted in conjecture.

Ning narrowed his eyes, then he moved. Not in the direction of the pursuers, but to the opposite side.

Even as he ran, he didn’t forget to keep an eye on his surroundings.

The shouting behind him grew more frantic. The woman’s cries sounded even more desperate. This continued for several minutes.

Then, Ning suddenly launched an arrow towards the pursuers.

“Arrows!”

The three froze for a split second before dodging hastily.

“As expected,” Ning muttered. “Robbery cultivators.”

Robbery Cultivators or Tribulation cultivators as the name suggested, were cultivators who preyed on fellow cultivators and took their belongings. They were depressingly common in this world.

Ning had recognized the signs because he had listened carefully to the caravan guards. While, not as common within the sphere of sect, such people were still not completely absent.

So Ning had conducted a simple test.

As he ran, he focused on the trio behind him and noticed the clues

The men chasing the woman weren’t truly gaining ground.

Moreover, a woman genuinely being chased by mid-stage Qi Condensation cultivators wouldn’t have such steady breathing, nor the composure to scream so clearly while running in straight lines. Real fear made people sloppy.

She wasn’t sloppy at all.

And finally, the timing was too perfect.

A remote road. No witnesses. A “chance” savior appearing just as the victim was about to be caught.

Coincidences like that didn’t happen in the wild unless someone planned them… or unless you were the protagonist.

If the woman had truly been in danger, Ning wouldn’t have minded helping from a distance.

But this?

This was a setup.

“HEY!” one of them shouted angrily. “You brat, stop!”

All pretense vanished.

The woman’s fearful expression evaporated like mist. Her posture straightened, her eyes turning cold as she pivoted smoothly and gave chase.

“So you figured it out,” she snapped. “Just stop already!”

Ning didn’t reply. If they had shouted English or Spanish, maybe he would have given a second thought, but now in this situation, stopping meant fighting.

Three sets of footsteps thundered behind him, chasing him with their own set of movement skills.

Mid-stage Qi Condensatio, one of them being in fifth stage.

Ning’s mind raced, not in panic, but in calculation.

Fighting three unknown cultivators on an open road was foolish. Even if he won, the cost would be too high. Injuries here could easily mean death later.

So, He fired again.

Thwip, !

The arrow flew low. Shooting while running wasn’t accurate, but accuracy wasn’t the goal. Disruption was.

“You!”

One of the men stumbled, tumbling into the dirt as the arrow grazed him.

Ning kept running, launching arrows interminently in brief halts.

Thwip!

The woman hissed as it tore across her shoulder, ripping cloth and flesh alike. Poison spread instantly, numbing the area.

“Poison!” she cursed.

The third pursuer hesitated.

That was all Ning needed.

He veered off the road, vanished briefly into the trees, then reappeared further downhill, Shadow Steps carrying him just far enough to break pursuit.

After several minutes, Ning slowed, breath steady, ears alert.

No one followed.

He straightened, calmly adjusting his bowstring.

“…Yeah. No.”

He glanced back once, then continued on his way.

You might think this would have been the perfect moment to turn around and attack.

But fighting three mid-stage cultivators in the middle of nowhere?

That wasn’t bravery.

That was how corpses were made.

Especially since people in that line of work almost always had hidden hands. Either an ambush or some kind of talisman.

It was only because Ning maintained distance, rendering their techniques ineffective, and relied on long-range harassment that the encounter had seemed easy at all.

Moreover, if his hunch was right, then Xiao Fan should also be returning to the sect soon. Maybe he would encounter these robbers eliminating them.

"Eh? Did I get contaminated by Xiao Fan's protagonist halo so I encountered the robbers first?" Ning mumbled, his expression frowning.

His first goal after returning to the sect was finalized. Cleanse himself thoroughly later. Incense included.

This might sound metaphysical, but the chances of this happening were not zero.

Alas! This entire mission has been tainted by Xiao Fan.

...

Thanks for reading~