The Programmer Cultivator

Chapter 54: Chapter 52: Tribulation Dao

Zhang Deming, however, quickly browsed the public mission information, memorizing the key details without leaving any browsing history on his Identity Card.

Then, Zhang Deming said, ”Oh, then I’ll take mission 12405.”

Seeing this, the female disciple at the counter nodded. ”Alright. Mission 12405 is in the same county as the previous one, just in a nearby town. It’s a low-risk Rain Prayer Task.

The reward is one Contribution Point, plus one bonus point as a subsidy due to the location.

For a total of two Contribution Points. Junior Brother, would you like to take it?”

Zhang Deming nodded. ”Confirm.”

After speaking, Zhang Deming swiped his Identity Card on the Light Screen in front of him, then turned and left.

The female disciple behind the counter, busy with her work, paid him no mind. She had seen her fair share of disciples with strange personalities who were out on missions.

Compared to the other oddballs she had met, this cold, aloof type trying to act cool was perfectly normal.

After accepting the mission, Zhang Deming didn’t hesitate. According to the information he’d gathered, Lu Ze’s group had already been gone for the better part of a day.

The only thing that reassured Zhang Deming was that in their group of three, only one had learned the Agility Technique.

Besides, Outer Disciples on missions didn’t have access to buses or subways.

The wealthy ones had mounts to travel on, but unfortunately, Lu Ze’s party of three wasn’t in that luxurious class.

Zhang Deming swiftly left the Celestial Spirit Sect and arrived outside its main gate.

He looked back at the sprawling mountain range of the Celestial Spirit Sect. Before he joined, who would have thought that he would spend ten years farming right after entering, holed up on Little Qing Mountain for a decade.

This was the first time he had left the Celestial Spirit Sect in ten years.

Faint Light Wings appeared at his heels, vibrating gently. Zhang Deming broke into a sprint.

At an incredible speed, Zhang Deming quickly put the Celestial Spirit Sect’s domain far behind him.

According to the mission details, the location was in a remote region.

It was far from the Sect. Outer Disciples without the Agility Technique would have to spend a great deal of time just traveling.

But disciples who had learned the Agility Technique were mostly Advanced Apprentices who preferred missions with more generous rewards.

Therefore, there was no shortage of such tasks around the Celestial Spirit Sect.

But they often piled up until, according to the Sect’s procedural rules, they were assigned as mandatory missions.

As a result, these remote towns and small cities were sometimes very unlucky, and life there was hard.

Sometimes, due to these delays, even a low or Mid-Level Demon Beast could cause significant casualties.

For a Major Sect, this was a common occurrence and didn’t attract much attention.

Only a city-wiping disaster would make the Sect immediately take notice and give it their full attention.

As he sped along, the farther he got from the Celestial Spirit Sect, the more the common people’s standard of living visibly declined, regressing toward a more primitive state.

Having lived in the Celestial Spirit Sect for so long, Zhang Deming had almost forgotten that this was a rather cruel, ancient world of Immortals and cultivation.

Demon Beasts ran rampant here, and that was with the Celestial Spirit Sect acting as a barrier for the Hengduan Mountain Range, blocking the vast majority of them.

Otherwise, ordinary people wouldn’t be able to survive at all, let alone thrive and multiply.

As a realist, Zhang Deming felt some sympathy for these people, but it was only sympathy.

’Expect me to sacrifice my own interests to help them? Forget it. That’s something for idealists to worry about.’

There were three types of normal people, or what one might call orderly alignments. Realism meant being a good, normal person as long as it didn’t compromise one’s own interests.

Idealism meant taking the world’s burdens upon oneself, caring for all living beings, or, on a humbler scale, helping the weak—anyone who would sacrifice their own interests to the extreme to be a good person.

Finally, there was opportunism: putting opportunity first, prioritizing all benefits, and being willing to bend certain principles for a chance, while still retaining a shred of humanity.

Among these three types, Zhang Deming classified himself as a realist. He respected idealists but kept his distance.

Toward opportunists and speculators, he maintained a non-judgmental, appropriately cooperative attitude.

These were the three types of normal people in Zhang Deming’s worldview. As for the abnormal ones—those with antisocial or psychopathic personalities—they weren’t worth mentioning.

...

Zhang Deming traveled for half a day before stopping when he had only a fifth of his Spiritual Power remaining.

Outside the Sect, Zhang Deming wasn’t foolish enough to court death by completely exhausting his Spiritual Power.

Even back on the mountain, he wouldn’t have let his reserves drop to a fifth before starting to replenish them.

Finding a high cliff, Zhang Deming tapped his feet lightly on the precipice, leaping to the top in a few bounds like a peerless Qinggong master.

Zhang Deming sat on a large boulder, drank some water, ate some dry rations, and then sat cross-legged to begin restoring his depleted Spiritual Power.

The farther he got from the Sect’s gate, the thinner the ambient Spiritual Qi became, and the longer it took to restore his Spiritual Power.

As Zhang Deming entered a state of Meditation, the sun began to sink in the west.

Soon, evening arrived. The sun sank low, a blood-red remnant that stained the evening clouds, casting a desolate and bleak atmosphere over the valley.

When Zhang Deming had almost finished restoring his Spiritual Power, his expression flickered. He stopped his Cultivation and opened his eyes.

As Zhang Deming opened his eyes, the frantic sound of a galloping horse-drawn carriage drifted up from below the cliff.

A somewhat battered carriage, bearing slash marks, was being driven desperately by a panicked driver. Not far behind, several fierce-looking men with thick beards gave chase on horseback.

Watching this scene, Zhang Deming couldn’t help but shake his head and mutter, ”Does this world have to be so hard? It’s only been half a day, and this is the third group of highway robbers I’ve seen.”

Zhang Deming leaned back against the huge boulder on the cliff, leisurely watching the robbery unfold below.

The carriage was pulled by a single horse and was quickly overtaken.

In an instant, several ferocious-looking men surrounded it. The rather scrawny carriage driver trembled like a leaf.

Pale-faced, he stammered, ”Sirs! Heroes! Please, have mercy and spare this humble one!”

”Who wants a scrawny thing like you with no meat on your bones? If you don’t want to die, scram.” The leader of the group spoke, his voice deep and resonant, with a hint of a rough dialect.

The driver hesitated for a moment, then scrambled out of the carriage and scurried away.

What surprised Zhang Deming was that after the driver fled, before the bandit leader could speak again, a bundle flew out from inside the carriage, and a remarkably calm, clear female voice followed.

”The silver and valuable jewelry are all in there. I ask that you brave men spare my life.”

”Heh heh, a lady from Dajun City... My brothers and I have never tasted that particular flavor. Besides, we’ve heard that the mother and daughter of the Qian Family are as beautiful as Celestial Immortals, true beauties of the Human World.

Now that we’ve run into one, wouldn’t it be a shame not to have a taste?”

As their leader spoke, the other bandits broke into lewd laughter.