Golden Core is a Star, and You Call This Cultivation?

“This spear?”

Chen Kangbao stared at the weapon in Qi Yuan’s hand, his goatee trembling.

The spear was long, cold, and exuded an ominous aura. Its tip gleamed with a biting chill, and the shaft was etched with intricate patterns.

Sunlight streamed through the window, reflecting off the spear’s surface and giving it an almost ethereal glow. The chill emanating from the weapon was so intense it seemed to seep into the room.

Qi Yuan held the spear calmly, his expression indifferent. “Too bad this spear doesn’t have a trigger. A spear you can fire would be much better!”

He sighed as though genuinely disappointed.

If he could transform Zhi Shuang into a sniper rifle, perhaps a Barrett M82 or something similar, it would be far more practical.

But without bullets, pulling the trigger would accomplish nothing.

What could it do—squirt water? The firepower would be laughable.

“How’s the situation in Red Cloud Village?” Qi Yuan asked as he prepared to leave.

“Master, we can talk on the way,” Chen Kangbao replied.

“Alright.”

Bang!

Qi Yuan smacked into the doorframe, the spear’s length blocking his exit.

Carrying the spear horizontally, it got stuck, slamming into the wall. He couldn’t get through.

Seeing this, Chen Kangbao quickly suggested, “Master, maybe you should carry it upright. The door’s too narrow, but it’s tall enough.”

“No need. I’ll wrap it around my waist,” Qi Yuan said.

Chen Kangbao: “???”

Sure enough, Qi Yuan coiled the spear around his waist, giving him a bulging appearance. Before leaving, he used Endless Transformations to mask the shape, preventing unwanted attention.

After all, Qi Yuan preferred to keep a low profile.

However, some things couldn’t be hidden.

Just like the way an overly large bust inevitably draws attention, the sight of Qi Yuan with the massive, coiled weapon immediately caught the eyes of onlookers.

“What is he carrying around his waist?”

“Strange...”

“Could it be some kind of treasure?”

At the inn below, diners began murmuring among themselves, their curiosity piqued.

Standing tall, Chen Kangbao puffed out his chest and declared, “My master carries a long spear wrapped around his waist!”

“A long spear?” A middle-aged woman from the martial world gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Her ears reddened as she stole glances at Qi Yuan, her eyes sparkling.

“So... big. Unbelievable!”

Amid the astonished murmurs, Qi Yuan and Chen Kangbao left the inn.

“Recently, there’ve been a string of deaths in Red Cloud Village. The locals say it’s the work of a specter,” Chen Kangbao reported.

“Specter?” Qi Yuan’s eyes lit up.

Back in the Immortal Realm, such creatures rarely qualified as proper adversaries.

But this was a game world. Standards were lower, and Qi Yuan didn’t need to be so selective.

“Indeed, a specter!” Chen Kangbao nodded earnestly. “I bribed some clerks at the local office and got access to their records.

“Here’s what I found: all the victims died at night. In every case, neighbors reported hearing a continuous sound of running water shortly before the deaths.”

“Get to the point,” Qi Yuan said impatiently.

He wasn’t one to judge a specter by its origins or backstory.

While some might fuss over factors like gender, family background, or social class, Qi Yuan was an equal opportunist when it came to sending specters on their way.

Even if a specter had a gambling father, a cancer-stricken mother, and a delinquent brother, as long as it fell into his hands, he would graciously expedite its journey to the afterlife.

“...Its strength is unknown,” Chen Kangbao admitted sheepishly.

“Tonight, no extra buns for you!” Qi Yuan snapped.

This so-called advisor of his was proving utterly incompetent.

All he ever thought about was food, never doing any real work.

“Master, just one bun less?”

“No.”

Chen Kangbao’s face fell.

Skipping one bun at dinner—wouldn’t that mean going hungry?

“Master, can specters be eaten?” Chen Kangbao asked hesitantly, already scheming how to secure his next meal.

“Everything in this world can be eaten,” Qi Yuan declared sagely. “The real question is whether it’ll kill you afterward.”

“Ah, I see.” Chen Kangbao seemed enlightened but still worried. “Then how do we eat it safely?”

“Fry it? Roast it under the sun?” Qi Yuan mused aloud. “If it’s cooked at high temperatures, wouldn’t that kill any poison?”

Of course, he was merely speculating.

As he considered this, a peculiar idea struck him.

He already had fire and light, like the sun.

The spear symbolized a proper kitchen tool.

A specter could serve as the dish.

Perhaps he should open a restaurant?

Wasn’t food service the classic starting point for entrepreneurs in unfamiliar worlds?

Meanwhile, the Daoist nun stood atop a hill overlooking the village.

Her frosty expression betrayed her concern. Her pupils glowed faintly red as she surveyed the scene.

The village lay quiet beneath the shade of towering silver fir trees. Smoke spiraled from chimneys into the overcast sky, which was shrouded in a dim, gray haze.

But through her enhanced vision, the nun could see what the average person could not.

All across Red Cloud Village, tiny black dots floated in the air.

There were hundreds—no, thousands of them.

The smallest were no larger than a mosquito.

The largest were the size of an egg.

“They’re growing,” she muttered grimly. “When they reach the size of a fist, the specter will claim its next victim.”

Her gaze shifted toward an old well in the heart of the village. A flicker of unease crossed her face.

“That place... it’s the source,” she whispered.

She could sense a powerful specter lurking there.

Even from this distance, its malignant aura sent chills down her spine, as though countless unseen eyes were fixated on her.

“Have you uncovered anything useful?” the nun asked sharply, turning to Zhou Hu.

Zhou Hu nodded, but his expression was troubled. “It’s a long story. Based on our records, that well has been tied to three deaths in the past hundred years...”

He launched into a detailed recounting, but midway through, the nun suddenly stiffened.

“What is it, Senior?” Zhou Hu asked anxiously.

“There are two unusual individuals entering the village,” she said, her voice tense.

“Are they allies? Enemies? Or just passersby?”

The nun shook her head. “I’m going to find out.”

She leapt from her vantage point and strode toward the village.

At that moment, Qi Yuan was already inside Red Cloud Village.

He walked down a muddy path, his gaze fixed on a dilapidated house ahead.

Inside, he sensed two people: a boy and a young girl, no older than six or seven.

Both looked malnourished, their skin darkened by sun and grime.

Qi Yuan knocked on the door.

Inside, Li Xiaodan froze. His hand hovered over the door latch as he whispered nervously, “Who is it?”

“I’ve come to settle some karmic debts,” Qi Yuan replied evenly.

Li Xiaodan hesitated. Those words made no sense to him.

“Can you tell me the origin of the statue in your home? Don’t worry—I’m here to help,” Qi Yuan added with a reassuring smile.

After a long pause, Li Xiaodan opened the door slightly. Reluctantly, he explained, “It’s called Divine Descent. It’s a god from the Kingdom of Luosha...”

He recounted everything the Daoist nun had told him, holding nothing back.

Qi Yuan listened in silence.

“An artifact,” he mused, his tone unreadable.

It seemed the role he was playing—Divine Descent—was more than a mere title. It was the name of a powerful divine weapon.

“If it’s a divine weapon, then I should act as if I’m a God” Qi Yuan thought.

Although his cultivation was only at the Purple Mansion stage, far from the power of a god, his disguise could make up for the gap.

“Child,” Qi Yuan said, his voice calm but commanding. “Do you recognize me?”

Li Xiaodan hesitated, unsure what to say.

“Then tell me—do I look like a man or a god?”

“I... think you look like a god,” Li Xiaodan stammered, not daring to offend this stranger.

For a fleeting moment, Qi Yuan’s progress bar for playing Divine Descent inched forward.

At last, his meticulous performance was paying off.

“Do not fear, for I am a god who listens to the prayers of the world,” Qi Yuan declared, exuding an aura of divine authority.

Li Xiaodan blinked in confusion, his instincts screaming at him to stay quiet.

With a soft sigh, Qi Yuan turned away.

“Come,” he ordered Chen Kangbao, leaving the boy behind.

As they walked, Chen Kangbao muttered, “Master, mortals are so blind to true divinity.”

“That’s because they lack the vision to see my angels and warriors,” Qi Yuan replied, shaking his head.

If this were any other situation, Qi Yuan wouldn’t care about appearances. But to play Divine Descent, he needed to convince others of his godhood.

“Well, if you lack drones, you build them yourself,” Qi Yuan mused.

"Let’s find a swamp with plenty of mosquitoes," he announced.

What better way to craft his angels than to use what nature provided?

About half an hour later, the Daoist nun reached the edge of Red Cloud Village. Her cold, emotionless expression remained steady, though her mind was a whirl of calculations.

“Who were those two men, and what did they want with you?” she asked Li Xiaodan directly.

Li Xiaodan hesitated, his face pale. “One of them seemed... off. He asked me about the statue in my home.”

“The statue?” The nun’s brow furrowed. Even a lifeless statue of Divine Descent could attract interest, as it carried faint remnants of divine energy.

“What else did he say?” she pressed.

Li Xiaodan, nervous and unsure, recounted the conversation in detail. “He also asked me if I thought he was human or a god. And then he said something about fulfilling my wishes. He... seemed crazy.”

The nun’s frown deepened. Something about the man’s behavior didn’t align with any known Weapon Master protocol.

“Yesterday,” Li Xiaodan added hesitantly, “I think the statue... spoke to me.”

The nun’s gaze sharpened. “It spoke? And what did it say?”

Li Xiaodan hesitated, his voice trembling. “It said... ‘I am not a god.’”

The nun froze for a moment, her mind racing. If it were anyone else, she would dismiss it as a child’s imagination. But this boy’s fearful tone didn’t seem fabricated.

“Impossible,” she said finally. “Gods are dead. Statues don’t speak. What you heard was a figment of your imagination.”

Still, doubt lingered in her heart. Could this be some anomaly?

Before she could press further, Li Xiaodan gasped, his eyes widening in terror.

“What’s wrong?”

Li Xiaodan pointed toward the distant sky. “Over there!”

The nun turned to look, her expression hardening.

In the sky, the sound of whirring wings filled the air, and the villagers of Red Cloud Village began to panic.

A figure floated through the air, seated as if on a divine chariot. The man was elegant and ethereal, his calm gaze exuding an aura of quiet majesty.

Qi Yuan.

Surrounding him was a swarm of strange objects—steel constructs that flapped their metallic wings like birds. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of them, their silver surfaces gleaming in the dim light as they carried him across the sky.

“Tengyun Jiwu?” (Riding the Clouds and Summoning Mist), the nun thought, her instincts screaming in alarm.

Only a Weapon Master of the Xuan Rank or higher could achieve flight. But this...

She squinted at the strange “birds” carrying Qi Yuan.

“Not clouds... not mist... What are those?”

The villagers stared in stunned silence, some dropping to their knees in reverence. They had never seen such a sight in their lives.

“What is that?”

“Those flying things... are they some kind of divine beast?”

“Great heavens! Could this be a god descending to the mortal realm?”

As the metallic swarm circled above, Qi Yuan’s calm voice echoed across the entire village.

“I am the god who has come to cleanse this land of specters.

You need not kneel before me.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!