Bombarding Cultivators with Cluster Artillery

Jiang Ding looked down from above.

The neighborhood was still brightly lit with festive decorations, and the banquet had continued without interruption for over two months—a negligible expense for high-level cultivators.

In the center of the seat arrangement, a gigantic TV screen had been added. A circle of people surrounded it, holding their breath in silence as if one could hear a pin drop.

An urgent news bulletin was being broadcast, with the host’s face glowing with excitement, as announced by a Nascent Soul Monk in person.

”...On September 21, 11167, the Xianmen Sect acquired its thirteenth Small World, named the Gang Han realm...”

”...Currently, many hostile forces remain within the Small World, and applications for tourism and development have not yet been issued. As per the custom of previous Small Worlds, it is expected to return to normal within thirty to seventy years...”

”...We welcome investments from major companies and individuals...”

”Gang, Han, realm.”

The guests repeated these words over and over again in their minds, feeling awed as they turned their gazes in unison toward the two centenarians on the stage, filled with immense envy.

To have a mortal name stand shoulder-to-shoulder with a Spirit Transformation Heavenly Monarch!

Countless millennia later, as long as Xianmen still exists, and even if it no longer does, their names would still be passed down across domains, known to countless beings.

What of the ancient divine beings, the everlasting wise rulers, the dynasties of kings and generals—they were merely known within the confines of one country.

In comparison to these two, they were far lesser.

”Good, good!”

Lin Gang’s eyes were bloodshot as tears streamed down.

”The lifespans of my wife and me are merely a little over a hundred years. In the grand scheme of the world, we are as insignificant as dust.”

He no longer concealed anything, revealing a mix of fear, dread, affection, and other complex emotions, far from the nonchalance he appeared to have on the surface.

Indeed, unfathomable!

A mere century or so was just too short, a period of seclusion for a high-level cultivator.

Where did such detachment from life and death come from?

”Dad...”

Both Lin Wanqiu and Lin Yong felt a pang in their noses.

”Now, having one or two names that will be passed down to future generations, letting the people of later eras know that there were once two people like us in the world,”

”That makes this life worthwhile.”

”A life well lived, indeed!”

Lin Gang held his wife’s hand, his eyes filled with tenderness and a real sense of ease.

”Jiang Ding!”

Someone exclaimed.

All the people quickly looked up.

A youth in green descended from the sky, step by step, arriving here and stirring up everyone’s reverent and excited emotions, as if witnessing a character stepping out of mythology.

”This guy...”

Zhang Dingjun, Guo Kui, and other teachers from Qianling University Daoism Department also came.

They watched intently, some finding it hard to believe this was the student they had once taught.

”Grandpa, Grandma.”

Jiang Ding said softly, ”There was an accident that caused some delay, but the outcome was generally satisfactory.”

The surrounding people held their breath.

In those few ordinary sentences, it seemed as if one could see endless mountains of corpses and rivers of blood, booming artillery, countless bodies of cultivators and mortals scattered with the blood.

”It was too dangerous.”

Grandma patted his head, chiding, ”Being safe and sound is what’s most important. For us two old folks, what does leaving a name behind matter?”

”Yeah.”

Jiang Ding nodded.

”Alright, I knew I couldn’t persuade you.”

Grandma smiled tenderly, carefully examining the fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy in front of her, so similar to how he was as a child, with delicate and smooth skin.

A playful spirit suddenly surged within her.

She reached out and pinched his cheeks, stretching them outwards, molding them into various shapes.

”To think that the commander of millions of troops, feared by all the Foundation-building cultivators of Xuanwu Tiangong, the Dari Swordsman, is having his cheeks pinched by me and can’t even resist, it feels so satisfying,” she sighed.

”Haha!”

The people around laughed.

”Indeed!”

Jiang Yuan’s eyes sparkled with eagerness, and with an impulsive urge, she took a few steps forward.

She now appeared to be in her thirties or forties, standing in front of her own brother, just like an older aunt, and her actions didn’t seem out of place at all, looking rather fitting.

A gaze bore down upon her.

Jiang Yuan’s steps halted, filled with sudden guilt, as she nonchalantly looked up at the sky.

”Let me pinch too!”

Lin Wanqiu completely ignored such gaze, and after her grandmother was done pinching, she stepped forward to pinch and pull at his face, touching his head and tapping his nose, finally exhaling a satisfied sigh after a while.

”Is it really that nice to pinch?”

”This is the Great Sun Swordsman!”

Lin Gang and the aunt were also very much tempted and, ignoring Jiang Ding’s struggles, gave him a good pinching.

Others nearby were also tempted to step forward but were pulled back by their relatives, who sternly warned them.

A high-level cultivator is not a being one can afford to insult.

This was an extremely dangerous move, as the slightest trigger of a high-level cultivator’s magical defensive shield could instinctively counterattack, turning the body into a mist of blood—a common occurrence.

No matter how strict the laws of Xianmen Sect, they will not protect any mortal who provokes a high-level cultivator. If killed, it would have been a death in vain.

After the playful episode, everyone found their seats, ate, chatted, and exchanged family news. The tinge of melancholy that had been there before had been somewhat dissipated.

”Does Dingding have a girlfriend yet?”

The grandmother placed a piece of green bamboo shoot in her grandson’s bowl, inquiring.

”No.”

”Then you need to hurry up, you’re not getting any younger.”

The grandmother spoke earnestly, ”Let’s not talk about raising children for the sake of security in old age. Having a child brings lots of joy and can make life much more wonderful.”

”Grandma, I’m still very young, there’s no rush,”

Jiang Ding emphasized.

The age of cultivators shifts dynamically—a foundation-building cultivator is one thing, a Golden Pill another.

If one were to consider the lifespan of a Golden Pill, he is now only eight or nine years old, not yet grown or fully matured, far from the age of getting married and having children.

”Mom.”

Lin Wanqiu let out a chuckle, ”He says he’s sixteen this year, leave him be.”

”Alright, I don’t understand the affairs of cultivators,”

the grandmother said helplessly.

Jiang Ding breathed a sigh of relief.

”What about Jiang Yuan? Are you also sixteen?”

the grandmother asked again.

”No, that’s not the case,”

Jiang Yuan swallowed a mouthful of food, no longer sidestepping the topic, ”I plan to get married in two or three years, to a boy you’ve seen before, like me, a late-stage Qi Practitioner.”

”We’ll settle down in Rongcheng City after we get married.”

Lin Wanqiu sneakily sent a photo to Jiang Ding’s phone.

”This is him, a pretty decent guy, graduated from the Cultivation Department of Qianling University, a late-stage Qi Practitioner.”

Jiang Ding swept over it with his Divine Sense.

It was a very handsome young man, in his thirties or forties, consistently reflecting Jiang Yuan’s preference for looks.

From the photo, it could be deduced that he was about forty-five years old, twenty years younger than Jiang Yuan. This age, for a Qi Practitioner, was considered an appropriate time for marriage and childbearing.

”Hmm, a decent person,”

Jiang Ding nodded, not paying excessive attention.

His sister was fifty-one this year, and it was best for her to make her own decisions. The sweet and bitter tastes of life had to be experienced by oneself, the choices had to be made by oneself. Even the best advice from others was just that—advice.

Besides that,

he wouldn’t get too involved with either his sister’s husband or her children.

He did not want to develop a deep attachment, only to go through the agony of parting with life and death once again after several decades or even a century.

”That’s good,”

the grandmother showed a contented smile, ”Yuanwang, Dingding, among the three of you, you’re the youngest. Yet you’re going to be the first to get married, grandma is going to hold a great-grandchild!”

Elder Lin Gang anticipated eagerly.

After dinner, everyone chatted for a while and then dispersed to seek out their old friends.

”Teacher Zhang Dingjun and the others, they’ve aged...”

Jiang Ding quietly sighed to himself, picked up a cup of tea, and walked towards the table where his teachers sat.