Chapter Seven: Cultivation (Part One)

The next day, as expected, Lancelot delivered the Spotted Venom Python.

It was a colossal creature, fifteen meters long and as thick as a barrel. Its body was adorned with vibrant patterns, and its emerald-green eyes shone ominously. The constant flickering of its forked tongue reminded Gong Hao of the terrifying power this magical beast possessed.

It was said that the Spotted Venom Python was not only incredibly strong, but its venom was deadly. Its tail could crush a boulder to powder, its fangs could pierce steel, and it moved with lightning speed. Gong Hao could hardly imagine how Lancelot had managed to capture such a monster.

"Alright, from now on, it's yours," Lancelot said, eyeing Gong Hao with a mischievous look.

Gong Hao licked his lips. "Um... Lord Lancelot, could you please help me collect a little of its saliva first?"

Lancelot casually grabbed the python’s upper jaw and used a beaker to collect some saliva, then tossed the beast back into the magical cage. As he handed the beaker to Gong Hao, he explained, "This python has had ninety percent of its power sealed, but it’s still far beyond what you can handle right now. I’m giving you thirty days to study the introductory battle aura technique I taught you. For those thirty days, I’ll help you collect saliva. After that, you’ll have to do it yourself. If you fail... you’ll die."

Gong Hao swallowed hard. "Yes, Lord Lancelot, I will complete your task."

"It won’t be easy," Lancelot said coldly. "Good luck. I’ll wait for you at the lake at noon."

Watching Lancelot’s departing figure, Gong Hao let out a long breath.

Thirty days—he had only thirty days. If he couldn’t grow strong enough to subdue the venom python in that time, he might never have to worry again about surviving or escaping this hellish world.

"I’d rather face you, venomous monster, than those wolves dressed in human skin," Gong Hao murmured, gazing at the ferocious Spotted Venom Python.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The python’s saliva indeed worked wonders on the mysterious flower.

Just a small drop revived the withered blossom, its petals opening wide, and its ghostly face even seemed to display a smile—a sign, it appeared, of happiness.

But would this saliva work on the Blood Orchid’s seed?

That damned seed still hadn’t sprouted.

Gong Hao tried dripping a few drops, but the result was clear: the python’s saliva had no effect on the Blood Orchid seed. In fact, the mere survival of the seed was already a miracle.

Later, Gong Hao discovered that while the python’s saliva could stimulate some magical plants, for others it was a deadly poison.

In any case, life had to go on. Until he escaped, he had to fulfill his duties.

Despite his new task of delivering lists, Gong Hao still had plenty of free time. Running errands didn’t take much, since the cabin was close to the castle, and he had also improved his efficiency.

He found that alchemists rarely concerned themselves with preserving life—they were far more interested in destroying it.

At least the three alchemists in this castle were like this.

They crafted magical weapons, automata, brewed all kinds of potions—especially potent poisons—and created magical scrolls for the Empire. Almost every experiment was tied to war; improving people’s lives, preserving resources—these ideas never crossed their minds.

Perhaps it was because Purgatory Isle was the last place where all the continent’s rare creatures had gathered, they’d finally learned some restraint. Otherwise, they might have done as they had centuries ago: killing a saber-toothed beast outright to take its fangs, then tossing the carcass aside, rather than, as now, sending a servant to carefully file the beast’s teeth each day and wait for them to regrow.

This left Gong Hao with plenty of room to improve his efficiency. He felt that, given enough time, he could easily manage seven or eight areas single-handedly without a hitch.

But the castle had no shortage of manpower, and no one cared about this.

Doing more was less valuable than doing well. Being able to cultivate the Blood Orchid seed was worth more than how many tasks he could accomplish. Of course, if he could do both, that would be ideal.

With this mindset, Gong Hao spent his free time helping in other servants’ areas. It strengthened relationships, allowed him to impress Andrew, and gave him the chance to learn more about magical beasts.

Knowledge from books needed to be applied in practice—Gong Hao believed this firmly and carried it out.

Thus, an interesting phenomenon emerged in the castle.

A blond boy would always finish his own work early, then go help others.

Gong Hao became the most popular servant—within days, most servants were friendly with him. Some even deliberately slowed their own work, waiting for his help.

Voices echoed throughout the castle: "Hey, Grier, I’m overwhelmed here. Can you lend a hand?"

"Hey, Grier, this Ironback Rhino is too strong—I need help!"

"Grier, could you deal with this Blackscale Serpent for me? Careful, it’s venomous."

Dangerous tasks often landed on him, but Gong Hao never refused.

"He’s such an honest, good fellow," everyone said.

It seemed the castle couldn’t function without the boy.

Even Andrew was surprised: "Has demand for materials in Area Thirteen dropped lately? How is this little guy so idle?"

In fact, Area Thirteen was supplying even more materials than before.

The servants liked Hugh Grier, and even the apprentices did. When Neil was around, if the apprentices needed a document, he’d take half a day to find it; now, they simply told Gong Hao what they needed, and he’d locate it instantly. Later, he even started handing over the document with the relevant page marked.

People often said, "Geniuses are mad."

There was truth to it—but they didn’t realize that genius was fueled by passion.

Perhaps it was because of his intense interest, Gong Hao was quite content with this life. If not for the constant shadow of death, he wouldn’t mind spending a few years here, learning everything he desired.

But for now, working harder to master battle aura and improve his abilities was far more important.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Beside the small lake, Lancelot watched Gong Hao sweat through his training, his gaze cold.

He’d already eaten the dinner Gong Hao had prepared, and, being very satisfied with his cooking, agreed to let Gong Hao stay longer for guidance.

"Still no progress?" Lancelot asked, observing Gong Hao’s strenuous effort.

Gong Hao sighed. "Generating battle aura seems extremely difficult. I try to gather the power in my body as you instructed, but I just can’t grasp it."

"That’s not unusual—you’ve only been at it for three days. No one masters the basics of battle aura in three days. In fact, I never expected you to do so. I just wanted you to get used to the training method. You need to sense its existence, not immediately possess it. Everyone has life energy in their body, but most people can’t perceive it, let alone use or strengthen it. First, sense it—then consider how to develop and use it."

"Yes, Lord Lancelot, but the problem is, I don’t have much time," Gong Hao replied earnestly.

Lancelot laughed, knowing Gong Hao referred to the thirty-day deadline. "I have no intention of shortening the timeframe. For a Sky Warrior to do servant chores for you is already a great honor. You should understand that."

"Yes, my lord. I am deeply grateful for your help."

"No need for gratitude—I’m only after your cooking. Let me put it this way: to truly cultivate battle aura in such a short time is impossible. Thirty days from now, when you have to collect saliva from the Spotted Venom Python yourself, you’re doomed."

Gong Hao stared at Lancelot, not blinking. He knew Lancelot wouldn’t let him die so easily—who else would cook for him? To satisfy his appetite, Gong Hao had displayed every skill he had, whether from the Wind Song Continent or Earth.

Thank heavens, he had reincarnated as Hugh Grier, a rare young talent—literate and skilled in cooking. Otherwise, he’d have no chance to prove himself. Perhaps gratitude was unnecessary: cursed heavens had thrown him into this dreadful place, given him a sliver of sweetness, and expected him to be thankful?

Dream on!

Lancelot continued, "But there is a way to quickly grasp the power of battle aura—though it’s grueling."

"Hardship is better than death, right, Lord Lancelot?"

"Exactly. That’s why I gave you thirty days. Before I teach you, let me ask: do you know the difference between warriors, alchemists, and mages?"

Gong Hao thought carefully. "From my understanding, a mage’s achievement depends at least half on talent. To wield magic, one must communicate with elemental spirits, but not everyone can do that. Alchemists and warriors are different. If becoming a mage requires talent, then becoming a skilled alchemist requires knowledge, and becoming an outstanding warrior requires hard training. Am I correct?"

Lancelot burst out laughing. "You’re absolutely right—not everyone can be a mage, but everyone can become a high-level warrior, provided they’re willing to pay the price. I once dreamed of being a mage, but ultimately took the warrior’s path. Grier, you’re a good kid—I admire you. I’ve heard about your work in the castle. You don’t chase amusements like other boys. On the contrary, you’re humble, studious, diligent, and sincere. With these qualities, you’re qualified to be an exceptional warrior."

He paused, his voice somewhat grave. "It’s a pity... if I’d met you elsewhere, I’d have taken you as an apprentice."

Gong Hao looked confused and bewildered.

Lancelot brushed aside his momentary sympathy. "Enough, let’s get back to business. Warrior training is arduous. Generally, there are two methods. One is what I’ve taught you—discovering your potential through self-awareness. It’s safe, but too slow. The other is external reinforcement. From now on, you’ll follow my training regimen to strengthen your body—intense training. You must try to sense the hidden power within during the process. External stimuli will help trigger your battle aura. But be warned, the training is not only tough, but also dangerous."

Gong Hao said calmly, "I think I can handle it, Lord Lancelot."

"I hope you maintain that confidence."

The next moment, a savage wolf the size of a calf appeared before Gong Hao.

A magical beast—Dire Wolf.

Gong Hao’s pupils contracted.

Lancelot said, "This little fellow was caught for you this morning. It’s not particularly powerful, just has sharp claws, but it’s more than enough to tear you apart. Now, start running along the lake. When you finish a lap and return, that’s the first step of your training. I’ll count to ten and release it. This creature preys on the weak—I’m sure it’ll chase you down and try to eat you. If you run too slow, you’ll die. Remember, if you want to live, run with all your might, and don’t stop searching for battle aura within. That’s your only path to success. One..."

Gong Hao turned and ran.