Chapter 3: Ch-3 The Art of Sweeping

So, I’m still trying to figure out this whole “cultivation” thing. The more I try, the more I’m starting to think if I'm supposed to get powerful or just a bad headache. Hard to tell at this point.

I’m in my room, attempting to look all mysterious and cool like those cultivators in the stories. I sit down, close my eyes, and chant the most epic thing I can think of: “I am strong. I am the chosen one. I will rise to the top.”

I open my eyes, expecting to be glowing or levitating or maybe just something. But nope. Nothing.

Okay, fine. I try again.

Still nothing.

Then I remember, oh yeah, I’m supposed to "synchronize with my mana pool." Whatever that means. Sounds important, right?

So I sit there for what feels like an hour, focusing on my internal mana pool, trying to "sync" with it. At one point, I think I feel something. But then I realize I’m just sitting on my foot and my leg has gone completely numb. Great. That’s what I get for trying to be all deep and profound.

I sigh and decide to call it a day. Anyways the whole synchronization thing is overrated.

I start wandering around, scanning the back alley of the sect, hoping for something worthwhile. And then I see it. A chest. Just sitting there, waiting for me to unlock its secrets.

I open it with all the drama I can muster. A flash of light bursts out of it, and my heart races. Is this it? The treasure? I'm gonna be unstoppable.

I look inside.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

And... it's a sock.

Not even a matching pair. Just one sock. And it’s not even a good sock.

I stare at it. Okay, so maybe this isn't the treasure I was hoping for. But hey, socks are useful, right? Maybe this is the "treasure" I’ve been searching for all along.

So, that didn’t work out. Whatever. I’m not giving up. I’m a genius strategist. Time to find a teacher.

I walk around the sect, scanning for anyone who might be willing to help me. Finally, I spot an elder sitting on a bench, looking like he’s in the middle of a very intense midlife crisis. Perfect. This is my guy.

I march up to him, all serious, and say, “Yo, teach, be my sensie.”

He looks at me like I just asked him for his kidney.

After a long sigh, he says, “Kid, you’re a joke."

He looks like someone who’s been through three divorces.

I nod enthusiastically. “Exactly! That’s why I need help. No one else will teach me.”He glares at me for a solid minute before muttering, “You’re a failure, but fine. I’ll teach you one thing.”

My heart leaps. This is it. My big break.

He hands me a broom.

I blink. “Uh, is this a joke?”

“No,” he says, voice deadpan. “Clean this place properly, and I’ll consider you a disciple.”

I stare at the broom. I mean… maybe this is my true calling? Maybe sweeping is the secret to unlocking my power. Or maybe he’s testing my resolve.

Either way, I pick up the broom with new determination. This is it. I’m gonna rise. Even if it means sweeping my way to the top..