Road to Mastery: A LitRPG Apocalypse

Chapter 416: Choosing One’s Path

The trip to reach the former Exploding Sun headquarters would take two months.

Jack’s group traveled from teleporter to teleporter, using fake names and disguise pills to keep their identities hidden. They stayed near other people as little as possible, always moving with caution.

They were like fugitives.

In the process, they witnessed the aftermath of the war. Even in the Milky Way, which was isolated from the rest of the galaxies, news had already spread. Every ambitious D-Grade had packed up and headed for the Hand of God to enlist, not quite understanding the scale of this war.

“I can’t believe they turned me down,” an early D-Grade cultivator slammed her cup on the table, her powerful voice dominating the bar. “They said that even C-Grades could only serve as soldiers. To them, it’s like D-Grades are trash!”

Her voice contained a mix of anger and humiliation. The only reason she’d mention this out loud was her intoxication.

“They must be blind!” agreed another cultivator—an E-Grade. “C-Grades don’t grow on trees! If they only accept those people, they will barely make a few squads, let alone an army!”

Shouts of agreement rose from everywhere. In a corner, Jack, Nauja, and Gan Salin calmly sipped on their drinks. Brock was too recognizable so he hadn’t come to gather information. “Is that really the case, Jack?” Nauja asked. “Are C-Grades so common in the universe?”

Jack smiled slightly. “They are not common, no…but the universe is wide. There are dozens of A-Grades, thousands of B-Grades, perhaps millions of C-Grades. In a war of such caliber, anyone below that is useless. It’s just that this is a little bar in a tiny outpost in the fringes of a recently Integrated galaxy. How could these people know the vastness of the world?”

Gan Salin and Nauja fell silent. The path of cultivation was full of thorns and pitfalls. From every Grade to the next, only one in a hundred or one in a thousand cultivators made it. With six Grades stacked on top of each other, this tiny success rate diminished to almost zero.

But the universe was just too large. There were seventy-three galaxies in System space, each holding millions of habitable planets with millions of people each. In such a wide base of people, there were some who miraculously made it to the top echelons of the cultivation world.

C-Grades were people who could move the winds and rains. To common mortals, they were Gods. Yet, in a conflict of this scale, they could only serve as foot soldiers…

“Did you hear the Heaven Immortal’s declaration?” a man said, changing the subject. “The Church is almost routed!”

“I heard as well!” another person added. “They lost two Elders and are running away like mice. They have been forced to retreat outside System space again!”

“Let’s hope they stay there!”

Everyone laughed together. The people of the universe were all in the sphere of influence of the Immortals, so they received their propaganda. They were naturally biased towards the Hand of God.

Jack did not begrudge them. They were ants to him. How could he blame them for going with the flow?

“I heard something else!” a woman shouted, eager to participate. “The Arch Priestess of the Cathedral activated a tremendous weapon during a battle. They still lost, but they annihilated an entire solar system with millions of people!”

“What monsters!” the other patrons exclaimed. “They’re terrorists alright—what did you expect?”

“They should all burn in hell!”

“They should be crippled and fed to space monsters!”

The bile of propaganda flowed endlessly from their mouths, so much that even Jack felt uncomfortable. “Let’s go,” he said. He swiped his credit card over the special screen installed in their table, and the three of them departed the bar.

“Would the Church really destroy an entire solar system?” Nauja asked as they walked away.

Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. But what I’m certain of is that there is no right or wrong in war. If anything, the Immortals are even more callous than the Church because they are robots; they do not possess emotions like we do. At least, for the Church, I can hope they weigh mortal lives in their decisions…”

“The world is a harsh place,” Salin said, his voice not carrying its usual madness. “People die all the time. The weak are just foil for the strong. Between superpowers, there is no good option, only the least of two evils…”

It was a sobering thought. The Church had its ideals, but they were not fighting for the world right now. They were fighting for their survival. Only if they won would they reveal their true face to the public. And, as for what that face was, Jack could only hope it was a kind one.

Stolen story; please report.

At the very least, they were better than the Hand of God.

They continued traveling. From their arrival point at the Milky Way, the former Exploding Sun headquarters were very far away. The trip would take months.

In that time, they could observe the current state of the galaxy. Church cultivators had infiltrated everywhere before the war—now, the galaxy was riddled with desolate planets, broken moons, endless bloated corpses floating through the cosmos. These sights were not too common, but to Jack’s group, who covered a lot of ground at high speed and visited many planets, there were many opportunities to witness the brutality of war.

Black snakes coiled around Jack’s heart. Every time he saw a ruined continent, he pictured America in its place. The mountains of corpses could be humans and brorillas—his wife, children, mother... If he returned to Earth only to witness such a sight, he would lose himself.

I need to become stronger, he vowed, clenching his fist. Strong enough that nobody will touch me and my people… Strong enough to protect them.

Throughout their trip, everyone cultivated with fervor. Jack spent a few hours at every ruined location they passed through, using the cruelty and brutality of war to enhance his comprehension of life and death. Whenever they teleported, he would meditate on the spacetime fluctuations, deepening his understandings.

After all, he had only grasped a small part of the Archon’s inheritance. The seeds remained inside him, but they needed his meditation to bloom. On the bright side, he advanced at speeds incomparable to other cultivators.

As for his understandings into life and death, those had temporarily fallen behind spacetime. He was now spending most of his time aboard the bromobile holding onto the death cube granted to him by Elder Boatman, slowly delving into its mysteries. Day by day, his comprehension slowly grew.

The death cube also contained an enigma. Elder Boatman had said he’d placed a wisp of his soul inside it so he could always track Jack’s position. Since they emerged from the hidden realm, Jack had expected Boatman to look for him, but that hadn’t happened yet…

Had Elder Boatman perished? Was he too busy with the war? Or had the soul mark vanished after so many years in a separate dimension?

Jack had no way to know. Even if he did, there was nothing he could do to change the situation. Therefore, he focused on himself.

He been cultivating for six years already. He was nowhere near the end of the road, but he felt that finally, his direction was close to finalized.

Life and Death. Space and Time. These two pairs of Daos would be the path he followed to the peak—all through the lenses of the Fist.

From an upstart young cultivator experimenting with anything that fell into his hands, he had slowly grown into a veteran consciously making his way forward. He had matured.

But maturity came at a cost. The path before him used to be infinite. Now, it was clearly defined, letting him walk it more efficiently but also having an end. And that end…wasn’t necessarily the peak of cultivation.

Every cultivator had a limit. Now, Jack was beginning to see his in the far distance. It scared him—but he trudged on, determined to advance as far as possible. Limits could be illusions—by being exemplary, he would break through the constraints of the world, carving his own path.

That was the meaning of cultivation.

Besides meditating on the Dao, Jack did not cultivate at all. Not because he wasn’t ready—in fact, for the first time since he embarked on this road, his Dao understandings had surpassed his cultivation level. After consolidating his foundation for three years, he was ready to rush forward and advance to the peak of the C-Grade in one fell swoop.

The issue was, cultivating took time—decades, if not centuries, and that was time that Jack didn’t have available. Since this was a period of war, he would employ the same method he used during the D-Grade and slaughter his way through the levels. Given that his Dao understandings were solid enough, that was a much faster way than peaceful cultivation.

Therefore, cultivating a little bit now was meaningless. Jack would rather spend that time meditating on the Dao—a process which couldn’t be accelerated.

Time trudged on. Throughout the trip, the bromobile ran into many dangers ranging from mid-level space monsters to pirates. None was a problem. They smashed right through, smoothly continuing on.

Two months after their arrival at the Milky Way, four people stepped out of a teleporter. The terrain was familiar—out of all the planets in the galaxy, this was one they’d visited before.

Derion, the poison planet.

Jack had passed through here the previous time he was headed for the Exploding Sun headquarters. He had just reached the D-Grade at the time and was heading over to train. During his brief stop at this planet, he’d discovered and attacked a group of Animal Kingdom cultivators transporting prisoners, one of which had been Vanderdecken, the Earth cultivator who used the Dao of Metal. He’d also been attacked by a bounty hunter. That was the first time Jack killed a D-Grade.

“Oh! I probably still have a bounty,” he told his friends. “I wonder if anyone will try to get it this time.”

Derion hadn’t changed much since their last visit. It was a barren planet almost empty of natural lifeforms, where low-level cultivators could only survive for a limited time due to the poisonous atmosphere. The cultivators themselves, however, had changed.

They were much fewer. The once-sprawling camp of people waiting their turn to teleport had diminished to only a few starships parked in the open, while the guards were more and stronger. There were even people bearing the Hand of God insignia—the picture of a humanoid with a square screen for a face, its open palm facing the viewer.

It was natural. Derion was the largest teleportation hub of the Exploding Sun constellation. In these troubled times, the security measures would be water-proof.

However, Jack and the others weren’t here to teleport. They’d chosen Derion not because it was directly connected to Field Nebula, the former Exploding Sun headquarters, but because it was located nearby. They could use the bromobile to just fly over.

According to the information they’d gathered, the Hand of God had turned the headquarters of the Exploding Sun into an outpost after clearing out its previous occupants. Given Jack’s identity, flying there was much safer than openly teleporting.

They didn’t stay long on Derion. After discreetly asking around for a few hours, they boarded the bromobile and set off into deep space. A week later…they approached Field Nebula.