CHAPTER 153: CHAPTER 153 - A STRANGE CULTIVATION EXPERIENCE - I

Sometimes, the gears of fate turn in such mysterious ways that we don’t even realize when the first cogs have aligned. The world moves by wills greater than ours, by invisible threads woven with intentions we don’t understand and yet, we press forward, convinced that our choices are truly our own. But all it takes is a single glance back, just one, to see: it all began with some small, seemingly irrelevant detail.

Glenn was thinking about that as he slowly rode along a mountain trail. Life had a curious way of circling back. His first encounter with the authorities of this world, a simple trip with Selene to visit a renowned alchemist, now seemed like the spark that had ignited a series of events as grand as they were exhausting.

That day had ended in a duel with Thadeus. An unexpected victory followed one that led to yet another duel. This one far more brutal. And still, I managed to cling to victory with my fingertips.

And then came an invitation and a royal decree, a public letter from the queen herself, challenging the so-called geniuses of the demon empire.

And so, humiliatingly, I began to face dozens of geniuses in relentless combat. A month of fighting, sweat, pain and growth.

Curiously enough, he now found himself riding a Sleipnir, a magnificent creature: a black stallion with eight legs, muscles as taut as tempered steel beneath dark skin, and two long spiral horns that caught the pale sunlight like obsidian. It was strapped into an ornate harness, and its rhythmic steps echoed hypnotically over the rocky path.

Beside him, riding with the ease of someone who had watched centuries pass like seasons, was Master Silas one of Selene’s six elder council members. Unlike his nearly forgettable presence during that first visit to the alchemist’s home, he was now impossible to ignore.

A demon with pale skin marked by fine cracks like ancient porcelain, he wore a luxurious imperial red robe embroidered with golden threads and arcane symbols that shimmered in the light as if alive. He was completely bald, with black horns, and wore a charcoal-black band over his eyes yet somehow saw more clearly than anyone else.

A single earring hung from his right ear: a blood-red crystal suspended from a golden chain. He smoked a long white cigarette with a silver tip, releasing dense, perfumed smoke scented with sweet spices and a faint metallic note.

Seated comfortably atop the Sleipnir, which walked calmly without reins, Silas hummed an ancient and enchanting melody, as if the world around him were nothing more than pleasant background music to his personal soundtrack. He was an eccentric figure, almost cartoonish, but every detail of his appearance screamed power and wisdom the kind you only cultivate through centuries of choices, mistakes, and alchemy. And now, he was Glenn’s personal companion on this unlikely journey.

A legendary alchemist, a Sleipnir, and a valley said to defy the laws of nature. Glenn sighed. Life’s road was truly paved with strange intersections... and he was starting to accept that nothing would ever follow the expected path again.

You’re probably wondering how the hell I ended up in a situation like this. Well... it started three days ago.

That night, after leaving the royal consort’s pavilion and after sleeping for exactly fifteen days straight—the last thing I wanted to do was lie down again. So I did the only thing that had been gnawing at me inside: I went straight to the library.

The pavilion’s library was enormous, a peculiar structure filled with curved shelves, multi-level staircases, and excellent lighting. The silence there was so dense it seemed to have weight, and that was exactly what I needed. I spent the entire night flipping through old books, scrolls, and dusty grimoires hoping to find a clue about places where I could speed up my spatial energy cultivation.

Spoiler: my search was absolutely fruitless.

Not because the books were useless far from it. They held tons of content about the fundamentals of cultivation in Atlas. But all of them circled around the same core concepts: understanding your affinity, energy breathing, harmony with the natural environment, absorption rate. That was the foundation the base of all progress. For most people, that’s all that mattered.

But that was completely useless for me.

First, as Elian my master in magic, sarcasm, and getting punched had already made clear: very few people in the world had space affinity. It’s so rare that, in most cases, there are barely any records, and cultivators eventually give up the practice entirely. So asking someone how to handle it wasn’t even an option.

Second, in pure cosmic irony, the empire’s capital the very place where I should theoretically have access to the best conditions—just happened to be one of the poorest regions in spatial energy. Here the skies spewed elemental affinities like wind, earth, water, lightning and more... but spatial energy? Nothing. A spatial wasteland. It was like trying to cultivate fire underwater.

Third and maybe most importantly: I came from Earth.

There, no one cultivated. No one manipulated energy. But the amount of theoretical knowledge about space was insane. Einstein and his Theory of Relativity, Kip Thorne’s hypotheses on wormholes, models of space-time curvature, the possibility of gravitational lensing, and even the wild theories of metascience about parallel universes and mirrored realities.

All of that was part of my knowledge base. And even if these ideas were just scientific abstractions, one thing was clear: my conceptual understanding of ’space’ was probably deeper than anyone else’s on this planet. At least in the normal sense... after all, we couldn’t expect normality from a place where people spat fire from their mouths and shot lightning from their fingertips.

And maybe—just maybe—that’s the reason I have this affinity.

Maybe that’s why I can see things no one else can. Maybe that’s why, when I close my eyes, I feel the fractures in reality like cracks in a mirror... while everyone else only sees the reflection.

Glenn only realized the day had begun when the library door creaked softly, and Aster entered, pushing a cleaning cart with enchanted cloths floating around her. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a high, practical bun, her blue eyes curious as ever. She looked directly at him—still seated in the same spot since the previous night, surrounded by open books, deep bags under his eyes.

"Young master... did you spend the whole night here?" she asked, somewhere between surprise and gentle reproach. "Is everything alright? What are you looking for?"

Glenn rubbed his eyes and sighed, his voice hoarse from a sleepless night.

"I’m looking for a solution. Something to tell me where I can properly cultivate... a place with abundant spatial energy. Because here, Aster, nothing... absolutely nothing works."

Aster held back a giggle, covering her mouth delicately.

"You’re in the wrong section, master."

He arched an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"You’re looking for answers about the world... in the section about how to manipulate energy. But what you’re really after is data about where that energy exists."

Without waiting for a reply, she spun on her heel and motioned with her finger for him to follow. Glenn walked after her, frowning, through corridors he hadn’t even noticed during his previous sweep. They stopped in front of a simple area, marked only by a wooden plaque with the words "Regional Records" carved into it without a trace of glamour.

"Geography?" he asked, puzzled.

"Geography, climate, natural phenomena... You want spatial energy? Then you need to understand where the world tosses it away without a second thought."

Glenn didn’t respond. He simply stood there, staring at the books ahead rustic, many with hand-drawn maps, thick and yellowed pages, ancient records of places that barely sounded real. Aster returned to her routine as if nothing had happened.

Before he knew it, he was immersed in that new universe.

He found, for example, a region to the north of the Demon Empire where gravity had been permanently altered after a meteor strike creating a chain of floating mountains where the ground twisted and time itself seemed to slow. There were also mentions of valleys where compasses spun wildly, forests that shifted in space, and even rivers that vanished and reappeared miles away, as if bending reality.

And without realizing it... Aster had returned. With a hearty breakfast on an enchanted tray, accompanied by Hera, who joined them with her usual serene air. At some point Glenn couldn’t quite pinpoint, the three of them were there, buried in books, scrolls, and floating maps. Searching together for a plausible path forward.

And Glenn felt for the first time in days a real spark of progress.

Amid that feverish dive into research, Glenn stumbled upon two major discoveries, one good... and one infernally bad.

The good news came like a breath of hope: there were, indeed, regions in Atlas where spatial energy was so dense it seemed to compress the air, bend rivers, twist mountains, and make light itself flicker.

One of the most emblematic examples was the legendary Valley of the River That Bends Upon Itself. A place where the waters floated in infinite arcs, folding like ribbons in the wind, returning to their origin in a dance that defied all natural laws. It was a sanctuary of spatial energy, so intense that reports claimed merely sitting there would expand a cultivator’s perception as if the world were shouting in clarity.

But then came the bad news.

These places weren’t just unusual.

Nor merely dangerous.

They were absolutely lethal.

Each one more akin to a cosmic nightmare than a natural landscape. Regions where the laws of physics were rewritten by primal, savage forces that seemed torn from a god’s delirium.

Some examples jumped off the pages like warnings from fate itself:

- The Abyss of Tial’Zhur: where time flowed in reverse in certain spots, and any object moving too fast was instantly crushed by its past and future versions. An explorer recorded only three words before becoming a stain on the rocks: "Myself killed me."

- The Mountains of Auralm: where the winds sang in frequencies so high they ripped thoughts from the mind, turning cultivators insane in minutes. The few who returned mumbled poems that existed in no known language.

- The Forest of Triple Fold: a sea of trees where space folded upon itself in endless spirals. One misstep could make a traveler appear miles underground... or directly in the center of an erupting volcano.

But the most dangerous of all was, without a doubt, the Canyon of Zuun. There, according to the records, the energy was so brutal that merely being present below the Master rank could cause existential dissolution—a state where body, soul, and memory disintegrated, preventing even attempts at resurrection.

The warning was written clearly in scarlet ink:

"If you can read this, you’re not strong enough."

Glenn felt his shoulders weigh down.

Yes, there were perfect places for cultivation.

But reaching them would be like walking willingly into a dragon’s mouth with a blindfold on and a target painted on your chest.

**

Another full day slipped by among ancient pages, hurried notes, and dusty maps, as Glenn, Aster, and Hera combed through the library like miners in search of precious stones. And in a way, that’s exactly what it was sifting through the chaos of information to find a single path that could lead him forward.

After hours filtering options and excluding regions under other races’ control—which, under normal circumstances, might be viable, but in the current situation bordered on suicidal diplomacy the number of accessible alternatives dwindled to just two.

The first was the enigmatic Valley of the Floating Waterfalls.

At first glance, it seemed better suited for cultivators with gravitational affinity. But there were recurring records of spatial distortions, objects vanishing and reappearing in different places, echoes of voices with no source, and even reports of travelers turning around... only to find themselves coming from the opposite direction. In short, a place where the laws that shaped space giggled mischievously while toying with the unaware. Ideal? Maybe. Deadly? Probably.

The second option was the Glass Garden, a high plateau covered in translucent flowers that looked like blown crystal, vibrating in soft tones with the touch of the wind. The spatial energy there wasn’t aggressive like in the valley, but pulsed steadily and delicately, like a breath. A single misstep, however, and the glass forest could turn into silent razors.

The location was considered sacred by some important families and was therefore avoided by common cultivators due to the fragility of its ecosystem—after all, no one wanted to become an enemy of any of the Twelve Principal Families of the Empire.

Both destinations lay within the boundaries of the Demon Empire. And technically, Glenn could reach them without crossing into unwanted territory.

Technically.

Because the real obstacle was still ahead: how to leave the city?

He was no longer just an unknown wandering through alleys. He was under the Queen’s protection, student of two of the most feared figures in the region.

Going alone? A ridiculous idea.

Taking Hera and Aster? It was what he wanted most.

Waiting? Out of the question.

So... whom should he ask for permission?

With Selene wrapped in her own mysteries, Lesley away on a mission, and Elian buried neck-deep in his own affairs...

**

Glenn found himself walking through the polished, shadowy corridors of the royal castle, his steps echoing like muffled drums. The air was thick, perfumed by subtle incense; the tapestries and stained glass filtered the daylight into a nearly sacred glow. Armored guards stood everywhere, motionless like living statues—but their eyes... they swept over Glenn from head to toe, watchful, inquisitive, and silent.

None dared block his path.

Before the enormous doors of the Queen’s council chamber, Glenn stopped. And there, like a living wall, stood someone he had only seen from afar: Sales, the captain of the guard.

It was impossible not to recognize him.

Messy blond hair fell over his shoulders like a golden mane. His scruffy beard matched the piercing gaze of someone who could see straight into your soul. His armor—black with crimson accents—shimmered under the stained glass light, worn with the flawless posture of someone who led legions, but the ease of someone born for it.

Sales smiled as he saw him, arms crossed over his chest.

"Glenn, right? How are you feeling?"

"Fine... I guess. But... you know me?"

"Let’s say I do," he replied casually. "I’m the one who pulled you out of that damned rift. And I’m also the one who killed the guardian that escaped."

Glenn froze.

"You... what?"

"Long story," the captain said simply. "Look kid, you owe me lunch!" he added with a playful grin.

Glenn nodded, trying to keep up with the bizarre turn of events.

Before he could offer the thanks he wanted to, the sound of soft footsteps echoed behind him. A bitter scent of tobacco drifted through the air, followed by a raspy, mocking voice:

"Lunch? That’s way too much for a debt like that."

Glenn turned slowly and there he was. The same imperial red robe, the black bandage covering his eyes like a cursed strip, and a long white cigarette hanging from his lips: Master Silas, the Elder of the Council.

He looked like an eccentric prophet about to rob a temple.

What happened next could only be described as happening in 3x speed. Before Glenn realized it, he was already inside the council chamber, drinking tea with Silas. The old man was like a magnet, and managed to pull every question out of Glenn in mere seconds.

The conversation that followed amid sips of smoky tea and biscuits that tasted like ancient dust—was anything but comfortable.

Silas didn’t beat around the bush.

"If you want to saturate your mana core with spatial energy, you need to go somewhere that’ll tear your eyes out if you look at it wrong."

"And where exactly would that be?"

"The Valley of the Floating Waterfalls."

"You’re going to help me get an escort there?"

Silas let out a harsh laugh, puffing out smoke.

"No, you little freak. I am the escort."

Glenn clenched his jaw.

"You... are coming with me?"

The old man smiled like he’d just pulled a prank on the universe.

"Of course. I need to stretch my legs. And the Queen wants me to keep an eye on the strangest asset we’ve got right now."

And just like that through irony, sideways glances, and biscuit crumbs—Glenn found himself accepting the strangest offer of the past few days.