Poor Cultivation (The Slayer of Heaven Book 1): A LitRPG Wuxia Series

by Alan Bard

  The Slayer of Heaven

  Poor Cultivation

  Alan Bard

  Lit Orange

  Copyright © 2019 Alan Bard

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Introduced by Lit Orange

  Translated by Danila Emelianov

  Edited by Sanja Gajin

  Introduction

  Welcome recruits, The Island awaits!

  Nick was a simple guy from a broken home, who thought that he could start a new life in The Burrow. Little did he know that his life was only going to get worse.

  Having been sent to The Island to participate in a top-secret military program, Nick joins a group of several lab rats like himself as they fight for their lives and try to escape The Island. From the hostile locals to other unfortunate sods like themselves, the group will have to quickly learn how to master the powers they have been given if they wish to save their skins.

  Trust no one. Not even yourself.

  From the winner of the Russian National Wuxia Contest, Slayer of Heaven is a Russian spin on the cultivation genre, full of brutality and unforgiveness.

  Poor Cultivation

  SYnopsis

  When Nick entered the top-secret project Lost, his consciousness was connected to the combat neural network, awakening the hidden powers of his body and mind. Now, it’s up to him to decide whether he’ll follow the path of martial arts or focus on achieving something bigger—and whether he’ll choose to be a lone wolf or join his clanmates.

  On an island hidden from the world, players are given access to a system that allows them to learn the ways of the force. They’re engaged in mortal combat, but Nick is the only one in possession of a unique artifact with a very strange name—Cultivator.

  Will the artifact help him win and get off the island? What secrets does this mysterious place hold?

  PROLOGUE

  The island was invisible to satellites and radar; you couldn’t see it from a plane either. The strange force surrounding it would interfere with the navigation systems, leading ships and aircraft past it. The island was the planet’s biggest mystery, and only a few people knew its background story. In the middle of it was a huge Arena where players from all over the world fought for their lives in a very deadly game.

  ***

  Clutching the creature’s body, I was sinking fast and sure. I had no strength left after the savage, bitter fight…

  I suggest we give up! said a voice in my mind, devoid of all hope.

  Just don’t screw it up, Nicky! Get your shit together, shouted my coach.

  Why was I hearing his voice now? I must’ve lost my mind.

  Feeling as if my lungs were being torn apart, I ignored my gut; I was exhausted, but I was determined to find the strength to keep going.

  The creature finally twitched and took its final breath; I pushed it away and swam toward the surface, using what little strength I had left. Gasping for air, I emerged from the water. I was still alive and, surprisingly, not in any pain.

  Having caught my breath, I looked around. I was in a dark cave with a waterfall. The noise it was making was almost deafening.

  Somewhere in the distance, I saw a guy in a camouflage jacket. He was lying face down and not moving. I focused my gaze on him, and a semi-transparent window appeared above his head.

  Name: Green

  Status: The player has been disconnected from project [Lost].

  I staggered to my feet and walked over to him. His black beard and stubble made him look like he was in his mid-thirties, although according to the rules, the participants had to be under twenty years of age. The leather bag next to him immediately caught my eye. I checked its contents and pulled out a small flask, over which a message appeared.

  Elixir of Vigor

  Crafted by Corporal [Meriadoc].

  Restores the body’s energy reserves, relieves fatigue.

  Not paying attention to the corpse, I drank the cold liquid. Only then did I notice a flickering red spark on the guy’s wrist. I wondered who he was and how he got here. Having given it a thought and pushed past my initial squeamishness, I took the corpse by the hand. Staring at it, I felt as if I had been struck by lightning.

  Everything went black and a message unfolded before me. I’d usually only get text, but this one I heard as if someone was reading it in my mind, in a hoarse and tired voice.

  If you’re listening to this, no one has come to help me and I’ve met my doom. I’m pretty sure that this is where it all goes…

  My name’s Green and I’ve no freaking idea where I am. Bastards… They fooled me and I tried to escape through their barrier with a random Teleportation Scroll. I ended up stuck in the middle of nowhere, unable to move or call for help. Geez, if only I had realized it a little earlier, I could’ve dodged some of their poisonous and paralyzing attacks... I could’ve gotten out of here…

  Well, had I known how this would end, I would’ve cut off my hand with the Cultivator and tossed it into the portal. It would’ve been fun to see their faces when they realized that they didn’t get it.

  Ah, screw it!

  You’re probably wondering what this is all about.

  I guess I can help you. I mean, why not, not like it matters anymore… If you’re lucky and we’re somewhere at the beginning of the Arena, you’ll find this useful.

  First, you should know that you can get out of here. I know it for sure, even though I didn’t succeed. This place is a nightmare, but I’ll tell you something—you shouldn’t give up! Treat this as if it were in a fucking video game!

  Be a jerk and an egoist. Don’t give a shit about anyone. In the Arena, it’s every man for himself. If you choose to trust someone, don’t be surprised when you end up with a knife in your back.

  Ah, damn it, it’s getting worse… Let’s wrap this up. Have you noticed my bracelet? This, my friend, is a Cultivator—an artifact so powerful that it’s like a nuclear bomb against savages with spears. Artifacts of this class are very rare. It’d be a pity if such a relic rotted away with my body, so I decided to leave this message. Take it and go crush those freaks!

  I failed… I was too stupid, too naive even... I wanted to get out of here so bad that I failed to focus on what was really important: choosing my own path and killing to survive.

  Just take the bracelet off my hand and put it on. Maybe this will help you in two months. In case you didn’t know, the Invasion is imminent. They will be here soon. You’ll need all the power you can get. The only question is how far you’ll have gotten by then—maybe you’ll still be a noob…

  Anyway, good luck, dude. And don’t forget your buddy Green.

  My head was buzzing. There was a crackle, and the message disappeared. I didn’t know what to think.

  My life had become a desperate struggle for survival. Not so long ago, I was just a street kid…

  What exactly was this bracelet?

  I crouched in front of the corpse, not daring to touch it. The thin, skin-colored band was pulsing with a faint light. And although I could see it, the thing didn’t seem real.

  I took a deep breath and touched it, slowly and cautiously…

  Chapter 1

  A KID

/>   Two Months before the Invasion

  My friend Big Head was the best fit for this role. Looking at Morty from behind, you’d not think that he could be more than thirteen: he was small, with narrow shoulders, but his head was like an old television set, huge and square, with a face like he was thirty instead of fifteen.

  Hunched, he was looking at his phone. The metro train rattled along the tunnel; darkness alternated with flashes of light.

  Meg was sitting nearby. In order not to arouse suspicion, she had dressed up as a schoolgirl. Plaid skirt, vest, pigtails, the whole shebang… It was impossible to recognize the cynical punk in this sweet girl. She pretended to be reading a textbook, not giving a damn about her surroundings; her backpack, just like mine, was at her feet. People in the neighboring seats were around our age, maybe a couple of years older, but they were of no interest to us. My victims were forty-year-olds who still used cash—the older they were, the more likely it was that I’d find a couple of twenty-dollar bills in their pocket.

  I was sitting on the edge of the seat, looking at the reflections of people sitting next to me in the window. A large woman next to me sprawled, her bag half-open, with a baguette peeking out of it. Across was an old man with a magazine, and two women who were about forty years old.

  The golden age for petty thieves was about twenty years ago when everyone used cash. There could’ve been one, maybe two, or even five hundred dollars inside one wallet! These days, people like us had to settle for small change and phones. I hoped that one day I’d be skillful enough to snatch a watch without being noticed—that’d be big.

  When I felt Big Head’s eyes on me, I turned and gave him a little nod. There was a bridge up ahead. The train would slow down, giving me time to do what I wanted.

  As soon as the door closed, Big Head began to gasp noisily as if he was choking, attracting everyone’s attention.

  “H-hee-help…”

  He wheezed, rolled his eyes, fell, and started twitching.

  Everyone but Meg surrounded him. An old man rushed to his aid.

  “We need to put something in his mouth so that he doesn’t bite off his tongue! A pen... Does anyone have a pen?”

  At that moment, Big Head grabbed the man’s arm, pulled him down and began to twitch even more. I got close to a short woman, and my hand dived into her purse, took out a wallet, and put it in the backpack. I moved to another woman and searched her bag as well, but found nothing interesting. I got close to the large lady, but found nothing but food in her bag. I carefully pulled out the baguette and a salami.

  By this point, Big Head had stopped holding the old man’s hand. Despite never having seen him have a seizure, I heard that he really was an epileptic. Either way, he was an amazing actor.

  Once he fell silent, I pushed the passengers aside, squatted next to him, and smacked his shoulder.

  “How are you, buddy?”

  He shook his head, trying to regain his composure. I helped him get off the floor and sit next to Meg. A murmur passed through the crowd, but Morty assured everyone that he was feeling better.

  I sat down, too, and swapped Meg’s backpack for my own without anyone noticing. The train hissed to a stop.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m much better,” he croaked.

  Meg picked up her backpack and headed for the exit, while I stayed with Big Head.

  “Thanks, bro, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” he said.

  The doors swung open, and I nodded to him and followed Meg out.

  We were all supposed to meet in the Burrow in an hour, but first I had to find Meg. We got off at the same station, but we pretended to be strangers and I easily lost sight of her in the crowd.

  Once I finally spotted her, we exchanged backpacks and parted.

  Turning the corner, I took a look around and checked the loot. The wallet contained only a driver’s license and some business cards. Not a cent. Garbage. I put the wallet down next to the dumpster—a homeless person would return it to the owner for a fee. Luckily, in the side pocket of the purse were twenty-six dollars, a pack of cigarettes, and some gum. We had risked so much for nothing. At least I’d got some food; Shorty had complained that there was nothing to eat and that she had to go to a soup kitchen.

  ***

  I pulled on the heavy door with the sign that read: “Caution! Do Not Enter! High Voltage!” It yielded reluctantly and with a rusty creak. Pushing aside the wires hanging from the ceiling, I walked through the dark, cluttered vestibule and got inside the Burrow.

  Kate, a.k.a. Shorty, was resting on a tattered sofa with her long legs propped up on the backrest. She looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and smiled. To be honest, I liked her, especially the contrast between her snow-white teeth and milk-chocolate skin. A yellow top decorated with rhinestones hugged her chest, and I held my gaze on it before turning to Archie, who was stroking her thigh.

  “Oh, Nicky! Come in,” he said. His smile was more like a grimace. They said that he had suffered a stroke long ago that left half of his face paralyzed. When the right half of his face was smiling, the left didn’t stir at all. He wore his hair over his eyes to conceal as much of his face as possible.

  “Hungry?” I asked.

  “Whatcha got?”

  I took the baguette and the salami out of my backpack and tossed it to them. I was always glad to share. After all, I was the only one who had a place to return to—I’d come to the Burrow when I’d skip classes, mostly to hang out with the crew.

  In our group, Archie was the only adult. Narrow-shouldered and lean, he looked no older than twenty. According to him, he had been living on the streets since the age of ten. He survived by stealing, and he had never stayed in one place for too long. Archie was kind of a lone wolf, and I always wondered if he’d leave us soon, too.

  Shorty’s dad died of an overdose six months ago and her mother would have to serve another five years in prison. Big Head, just like Shorty, had run away from an orphanage. He was dealing drugs until his boss was killed. Afterwards, he had turned to Archie, who promised him protection.

  Meg was a great partner, though a bit reckless. Despite her timid appearance, she was a real thug. Archie once said that she had dropped out of school because she was slow-witted and her classmates bullied her, but I had never noticed that she was stupid.

  “Is that all the loot?” Shorty asked, disappointed.

  I silently put a handful of change and a pack of cigarettes on the table. Archie just sighed, making me feel like I had failed them. They thought I was a good thief. I wasn’t.

  “Fortunately, I have an idea,” Archie said, finishing his second sandwich. “I’ll tell you about it once everyone comes back.”

  No matter how much we bugged him for details, he told us nothing. Only after Big Head and Meg had arrived did he begin his story.

  “Three months ago, I was working at a grocery store with a warehouse next to it. The owner is a senile old fart who thinks that the shadow government wants to enslave humanity, and that paying by card and phone is another step toward enslavement. He doesn’t transfer money to the bank, but keeps it locked up in an old safe. Nick, can we count on you?”

  I was sitting next to him, and he put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Can you do it?”

  “Not with a combination lock,” I said. “And we won’t be able to move it from there, even with the four of us—safes are heavy as hell.”

  “I’m sure that the lock is a common one. One of those that you’ve opened many times. But even if you’re right, and we fail to open the safe, there’s some cash there, computers, and food that we can take.”

  Shorty laughed and clapped her hands in delight. “We’ll have a computer! Cool!”

  I didn’t share their optimism. “What, are there no cameras inside? Or outside?”

  “There are a few in the store, but our target is the warehouse.”

  “What about the alarm system? Cops will be there within
minutes…”

  “Screw the cops. The store has a security guard called Whiskey... I used to drink with him. We’re buddies, sort of... He’ll open the door for me.”

  “Dude, I’m a thief. I sure as hell don’t want to be involved in a murder.”

  “What’re you talking about? You’ll just wait and get down to business when Whiskey passes out. You’ll open the safe. That’s all. We’ll take as much as we can carry, and then we’ll hide everything in a safe place.”

  “I can take this Whiskey guy out!” Meg lit a cigarette. “No problem. Piece of cake.”

  “Archie, he’ll turn you in when he wakes up,” Shorty said under her breath. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?”

  Archie chuckled.

  “Of course not. The guy’s a heavy drinker; he won’t remember anything in the morning. Sooner or later, he’ll pass out, and Nick will pick the lock. I’ll go there later today and do some scouting. We’ll make a plan once I come back. And you, Nicky, decide if you’ll be going with us or to school.”

  I heard a hint of mockery in his voice, but only a hint. We were a family, after all; we valued each other for who we were, and each of us was good at something. My friends would sacrifice themselves for me, and I’d do the same for them. If necessary, I’d even steal Mom’s car. Not like I cared, she had another family. A family in which I didn’t belong. Adults had never done me any favors, and my mother was no exception.

  ***

  To be honest, I would’ve loved it if I could stay in the Burrow. I had no desire to go home, but I had promised Mom that I’d be back early. Though I didn’t know why she needed me there. Did she even care what I was doing? She had Mario now, her new boyfriend, and she was always on his side; it didn’t matter whether he was right or wrong.

  There was a light in the window, but I couldn’t see who was in the kitchen. I opened the door, hoping that they were already asleep, and tried to tiptoe my way to the bathroom. But Mom came out, wiping her hands on her plaid shirt. Her eyes still had an intense, reproachful look, and her blonde hair was disheveled and looked like a crow’s nest. But even so, she was still pretty. She was too good for a jackass like Mario.