Dual Cultivation God Returns Chapter 2: Broken Sword

Wu Long traversed the outer court, swiftly nearing a modest house with a small courtyard at the sect's fringes.

Given the sect's unique character, each disciple enjoyed a private residence, however tiny, ensuring no privacy issues arose during their 'cultivation'.

Stepping into his room, he moved toward the mirror, scrutinizing his features up close and verifying he was simply rejuvenated, with the body feeling utterly his own.

'That woman..., did she put me in an illusion?'

Illusion sprang to his mind first. Such deceptions had firm limits—one mere doubt could shatter them. Yet he only suspected it now, realizing the woman eclipsed all he'd known in dread, perhaps wielding esoteric arts to defy illusion's bounds.

But recalling her words, he promptly cast the notion aside.

'A gift... huh?'

Stretching his fancy, the gift could mean a second youth, hurled back to earlier days—yet this sect was alien to his past. Dual cultivation sects were rarities then, scarcely whispered of.

Reincarnation posed the next likelihood. Though real—vital for pondering Samsara on the immortal path—past memories always erased under unbreakable cosmic law, defying even Gods. None retained them, much less tracked rebirth's time or place, as insight fell short of command.

Still, undeniable reality confronted him: memories whole, body youthful and matching perfectly.

'This gift, I will have to work hard to be worthy of it'

Fierce light flickered deep in his gaze, resolve flooding his heart. He grasped the heaven-defying fortune thrust upon him, unwanted or not.

Certainly concerns lingered—comrades left behind tugged at him—but he knew futile worry changed nothing. Seizing the present chance was his sole path now. Besides, retribution against his near-slayers demanded power's swift return.

'My upbringing lacked potent cultivation heritage, so despite past life's peaks, progress grew arduous with a base forged in mediocre techniques. Now I can wield top arts from the outset, body-tempering superior to old flaws. This life promises loftier summits, at blistering pace!'

Thrill surged as boundless horizons unfolded before him.

Settling on the bed in lotus pose, eyes sealed, he reviewed every memory and probed his body's state over three hours.

His eyes snapped open afterward, face twisting oddly, prior fervor now somewhat curbed.

"My sword is broken?" he voiced aloud.

For male disciples in a Dual Cultivation sect, the leg-between sword reigned supreme treasure—yet his wouldn't rise.

His sect debut drew flocks of female disciples, lured by striking beauty for joint cultivation, but the flaw emerged fast, rumor blazing. Amnesia and ignorance branded him the "silly boy with useless tool" by week two. That, plus age-inapt near-zero cultivation, snuffed pairing hopes; as Outer Court, swift obscurity swallowed him.

Without benevolent Elders' oversight and minor quests—like the snake-bit errand—he'd lack merits for mere meals, let alone cultivation aids.

'Heh, to think I, hailed God of Pleasure, face this' he wryly smiled.

In his past life, he drew the envy of nearly every man, encircled by the realm's most stunning beauties while grasping immense power and influence—he owned it all. Hence, his current wretched condition formed such a stark reversal that irony dripped from it.

Still, deep discouragement eluded him, for he commanded a wealth of methods to mend his dire straits.

Focusing briefly, he summoned one of his premier cultivation arts, the 'Chaos Refinement Body Tempering Art', seized from an ancient lineage hailed as the cosmos's fiercest warriors in eras long gone—the Great Rakhshasa Clan.

They lorded over that age until savage, drawn-out civil war buckled their knees, letting virtually all dominant forces exploit the chaos to nearly obliterate them from history.

Yet for all their striving, no foe claimed the clan's ultimate treasure, the matchless cultivation method wielded by its inner elite; utter extermination slipped their grasp as the survivors barricaded their realm, silently rebuilding in seclusion ever since.

Only after countless ages did Wu Long secure this art, but by then his cultivation soared too lofty to commence it, forcing him to mourn his bitter fate.

This phenomenal technique let practitioners convert any touched energy into their own Spiritual Qi, while banishing every impurity without a single speck left over.

Though he had swallowed pills against the poison, faint remnants of toxin and remedy persisted in him since scant time had passed. He channeled these alongside airborne Spiritual Qi to cultivate almost the entire night, honing his flesh and foundation.

Bodily frailty fled at speed as vigor flooded through him, bulking up his form.

His realm lingered at Body Transformation Realm, the cultivation journey's opening stride, where one remolds their physique with surrounding Spiritual Qi to house spiritual energy within.

While cultivating, he swiftly detected the Spiritual Qi's dreadfully inferior purity here—worse than the most forsaken wilds. Pondering alone revealed scant truths, so he chose to amplify his might foremost, scouting his locale only after gaining solid ground.

His session ended amid outer darkness, propelling him to Body Transformation Realm's third layer. This breakthrough crowned his entry to the sect, prior proper cultivation denied him.

'Hmm, as a dual cultivator, it is quite fortunate that I ended up in this sect, but with the broken sword, I will not be able to properly cultivate at an optimal speed. I need to resolve this issue first.'

These notions swirled in his mind. Night neared, so he set plans for morning action, first scrubbing the tacky impurities purged in cultivation before bedding down.