The Elven Cultivator

’No wonder it’s considered one of the best introductory Cultivation Techniques.’

Anton sighed to himself.

Five hundred years of cultivation.

A normal human would have kicked the bucket long before even touching the threshold of Foundation Establishment.

Fortunately, he was an Elf, one of the long-lived races.

The Elf Race has long lifespans; they only reach adulthood at 100 years old, with an average life expectancy between 800 and 1,000 years.

Although five hundred years was a bit long, it wasn’t unacceptable.

Besides, once he could perform Alchemy and set up formations, he could use external aids to drastically shorten his cultivation time.

And if he succeeded in Foundation Establishment, his lifespan would be greatly extended.

For the sake of his future, Anton gritted his teeth and decided to continue practicing the Taichu Hiding Skill.

’It’s currently year 9239 of the Chenxi Calendar. According to history, the Dragon God Ayo won’t fall for another six hundred years. The Dragon Slaying War will break out a few decades after that.’

’I still have over seven hundred years to develop.’

As he walked back, Anton was lost in thought, planning his next steps.

Romance followed behind, carrying her axe. She tossed it up and down from time to time. In her hands, the ten-pound axe felt as light as a feather.

”Anton,” she said suddenly. ”Why do you always run off in this direction?”

”Because any further, the guards won’t let me pass.”

”What do you mean?” Romance tilted her head in confusion, a strand of hair slipping from the tip of her ear.

Anton just smiled and didn’t explain.

Every Elf Clan settlement inevitably has a Spring of Life and an Eternal Tree.

The Silver Moon Clan, to which he belonged, was no exception.

The Silver Moon Clan had established a sprawling settlement centered around the Eternal Tree.

The closer one got to the Eternal Tree, the denser the Spiritual Qi—which this world called elemental energy—in the air.

If it weren’t for the guards stationed around the Eternal Tree, who normally forbade common clan members from approaching, Anton would have gone to meditate right at its base.

If he could do that, he estimated it would take him no more than two or three years to refine his first wisp of Taichu Spiritual Qi.

”So secretive,” Romance grumbled, but didn’t press the issue.

She knew Anton too well; the guy had been full of endless secrets since they were kids.

Romance flipped her wrist, hoisting the axe onto her shoulder. ”The selection is the day after tomorrow. Have you decided? Magic or battle techniques?”

”Magic,” Anton answered without hesitation.

Before the age of 18, the physical development of the Elf Race is almost synchronized with that of humans. After 18, their growth gradually slows, and by 25 at the latest, their bodies stop growing completely, reaching their peak adult form and appearance.

From then on, their appearance remains unchanged until they near the end of their lives.

Therefore, all young men and women of the Silver Moon Clan must choose their path after turning 18.

Magic or battle techniques.

Only a few rare geniuses could master both.

In fact, a few hundred years ago, the age limit was 25.

But as the living conditions for the Silver Moon Clan grew harsher, the Clan desperately needed to increase its strength, so the age was gradually lowered.

The Dawn Continent was currently under the rule of the Dragon Race.

The Giant Dragons established the Dragon Court in the center of the continent and sent out other Giant Dragons to distant lands to propagate the Dragon Race, establishing hundreds of Dragon Cities. From there, they suppressed and exploited the surrounding intelligent races, demanding annual tributes of treasure and rare resources.

Furthermore, dragons are inherently promiscuous. Over the past ten thousand years, the Dragon Race has mated with countless creatures, giving birth to innumerable sub-dragon species. These sub-dragons then reproduced, spawning even greater numbers of Dragon Beasts. As a result, the continent is now overrun with sub-dragons and Dragon Beasts rampaging through the wilderness, bringing grave disaster to the other intelligent races living there.

Elves, humans, Dwarves, Beastmen, the Sea Race... nearly every intelligent race despised the Dragon Race, but they were too intimidated by their power to voice their anger.

This situation would continue until the fall of the Dragon God Ayo.

Having lost the protection of their Dragon God, the Dragon Race’s power was greatly diminished, and they were eventually overthrown by an alliance of the Ten Thousand Races.

Anton’s current goal was to accumulate enough power before that continent-sweeping war arrived, so he could protect himself and those around him.

To that end, he wanted to see how this world’s Magic differed from the cultivation system, hoping there might be something he could learn from it.

”Magic, huh? It seems to suit you. You’ve always liked studying all sorts of weird things since we were little.”

Romance swung her axe, a hint of yearning in her smile. ”I’m going to choose battle techniques. I want to become a powerful expert, just like the captain of the guard.”

Anton glanced at the axe in her hand and nodded in profound agreement.

Romance was indeed well-suited to the path of a Warrior.

As they spoke, the two of them arrived back at the outer residential area.

Influenced by the Eternal Tree and the Spring of Life, the trees here were far taller and thicker than elsewhere.

Roots swelled from the ground, forming natural archways and corridors. Elf artisans, with only minor carving, had transformed them into winding footpaths.

Each tree was a separate dwelling. Vines served as ladders, and suspended platforms were built between the branches. Cocoon-like rooms, woven from translucent leaves and bark fibers, hung beneath the canopy.

From a distance, they looked like countless pale green lanterns floating in the mist, swaying gently in the wind.

A tall oak guardian approached, its canopy of branches rustling.

These animated plants were the settlement’s most loyal guards.

Romance’s gaze was immediately drawn to it. She raised her axe, made a couple of practice swings, and looked eager for a fight.

Anton grabbed her by the back of her collar and dragged her away.

Ever since this girl had become obsessed with axes, she wanted to take a swing at everything she saw.

Last time, she had secretly chopped down a dead, diseased tree, but the Forest Guard soldiers quickly tracked her down and she was put in confinement for a month.

The Elves believe that trees are not just resources; they are vessels of souls and life, and even ancient Guardians.

They see trees as their brethren and would never cut them down indiscriminately.

In any Elf clan, felling a tree without reason is a forbidden act.

Of course, the Dark Elves who live underground don’t think that way.

Then again, you basically can’t find any trees underground.

”I was just looking!” Romance insisted, pulling her hand free.

Anton ignored her. He knew Romance didn’t really want to chop down the oak guardian; she just... couldn’t help herself, like a cat seeing a flickering point of light.

Anton and Romance’s parents had died in a battle against Lizard-men more than a decade ago, so the two of them were raised by the Clan.

For a Clan with a low birth rate and a small population, every child is incredibly precious. The Clan had therefore spared no effort in raising them, and the two had never known any real hardship.

After agreeing to go to the training grounds together the next day, Anton and Romance returned to their respective treehouses.

Entering his room, Anton closed the door and gently tapped the Light Source Stone hanging on the wall. The stone instantly burst into a soft yet bright glow, dispelling the dimness within.

A Light Source Stone was a special mineral that had a symbiotic relationship with a species of glowing fungus. The Elves would collect them and ”raise” them indoors like potted plants to use as a source of light.

Anton walked to the window, his gaze falling upon the potted Honey Bell plant on the sill.

With a mere thought, Taichu Spiritual Qi surged from his Dantian, transforming into a gentle, blue-green color as it circulated.

He held his palms over the clay pot on the windowsill, channeling the transformed Wood Attribute Spiritual Qi, strand by strand, into the Honey Bell’s roots.

The waxy leaves trembled slightly. The yellow, bell-shaped flowers on the branches suddenly tightened, their petals thickening into a peel. The calyx swelled, its color shifting from pale gold to a rich, honey-yellow. A fleshy fruit swelled and ripened at a visible speed, hanging upside down from the branches.

In just a few breaths, three Honey Bells had ripened and were hanging heavy on the branch. A gentle touch produced a rustling sound, like a distant, hoarse wind.

Anton plucked one and put it in his mouth. The thin skin broke between his teeth, and a thick, sweet nectar flooded his mouth. It was fragrant and sweet, with a slightly astringent but pleasant aftertaste.