Playboy Cultivator in the Apocalypse

After the emperor's declaration, the top elites, who headed the operation, got swarmed.

"Hi, I'm Lily!" Lily announced cheerfully, "It's nice to meet you all!"

The fact members were stunned by her dazzling smile. Kaze shamelessly chose her for her looks, so the blonde was also a ten in the beauty department.

Moreover, if there was one thing she loved and craved, it was popularity and attention. Lily was meant for the role.

"Hey, how did you become an elite?"

"You were so cool!"

"Is there some type of criteria for being elite?"

"Will you teach me?"

"Where have you guys been?"

"Um.... I'm one of the people who showcased remarkable talent during the recruitment period." Lily explained, telling everyone the official backstory.

"Instead of immediately training with you, we trained with Malta's special forces division."

The faction members cocked their heads to the side in confusion.

"What do you mean by special forces teams?"

"Are there other cultivators we haven't met?"

"You mean like the military?"

Sammy, the dark-haired brunette from Evalyn's old tennis team, was getting swarmed. However, she instantly turned her head to Lily's group on cue.

"One second, everyone." She requested, giving her swarmers an apologetic look, "Yes, the military.

Cultivation is a military art form. So the Emperor is training Malta's soldiers here too."

Many looked at one another in wry confusion. Only a fifth of the people who joined Immortal Skye expected to become soldiers.

"I was worried, but now I think it's awesome." Lily giggled, "There are many jobs in the military.

Everyone trains as soldiers to be ready for anything, but most people live ordinary lives on the base.

When you think about it like that, it's a blessing, right?"

Many people lit up in excitement at her words. The benefits of learning self-defense seemed attractive, and it inspired people to take offensive training seriously.

"I suppose you're right." Sammy smiled, "Plus, the [support training] we're doing right now is pretty useful."

"Support training?"

"What's that?"

"Can you talk about it?

Lily smiled and addressed them warmly. "Of course! Right now, we're doing precision training.

We have large targets that represent buildings and wreckage.

Our job is to slash specific points to make them collapse safely, preventing harm to the people we save.

It's pretty amazing knowing that we save people in fires now."

Excitement rippled through the crowd, and it spread the word like wildfire.

Kaze watched from a distance, satisfied that the two were spreading the positive virtues of military training to others.

However, Veronica and Whitney had the opposite conversation in their groups.

"Come on, Veronica." Whitney whined, "Why do you have to be so pessimistic?"

"Why?" Veronica chuckled caustically, "It's because we're doing special forces training to fight [something] unnatural outside these walls."

The faction members gasped and backed away, letting the two talk.

"We're at a three-month retreat without wi-fi, just like we've signed up for." Whitney replied in exasperation, "Cultivation is a military art form.

So stop acting like the world's ending because we're doing military training. You're just made you can't text your boyfriend."

The black-haired pixie scoffed in disbelief, rolling her eyes with her mouth open. "Is that a joke?

The last time I checked, military members use cut-outs of humvees, planes, and humans.

They don't use large, moving blob targets and precisely hit vital spots."

"Those targets represent debris, idiot." Whitney scoffed.

"Yeah, debris that moves ten feet to the left and right at variable speed?" Veronica laughed, "The whole target moves! Don't make me laugh.

It looks like a monster, moves like a monster, and we treat it like a monster. So it's probably debris, right?"

"If we can hit it with precision while it's moving, then we'll be able to do it when it's still." The blonde snapped in exasperation, "We're [special forces]. Elites.

Immortal Skye isn't making us firefighters. So stop being a conspiracy theorist; it's creepy."

Everyone dry-swallowed, looking between the two with beating hearts.

Veronica was an elite amongst elites. So her conspiracy theories and doomsaying weren't immediately ignored as they should have been.

However, Whitney provides a rational and believable counterbalance to her claims, matching her with the official story on every line.

They didn't know who to believe in the situation.

"Whatever, Whitney." Veronica laughed breathlessly, "If you want to parrot their exact words verbatim, go for it. But don't insult people who think."

She walked away with a scowl, leaving Whitney to deal with the throngs of concerned faction members alone.

"Sorry about that." Whitney chuckled awkwardly, "She's just bitter that she came here thinking it was a simple retreat and is now training with the military.

Cultivation is a military art form, so naturally, the military is a client, and the special forces are training with us.

Still, it's making people nervous, and we can't look it up on the internet like we're used to. So there are a lot of crazy conspiracy theories. Ignore them."

...

Kiera watched the effects of her suggestion from a hidden corner of the prepping building with a trembling heart.

She felt guilty for participating in the mass manipulation schemes, especially when the immediate effect was intentionally negative.

It only magnified her anxiety, which was already unbearable, making it hard for her to breathe.

However, she trusted Kaze and knew what he was doing was for the best, so she watched in horror, forcing herself to [grit her teeth and bear it].

"Did you hear? Monsters came to earth alongside the cultivators.

They're training us to fight them. That's why the military is here."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know those elites? They said they practice on large monster targets that move at lightning speed. 30 feet tall, I heard."

"That sounds scary…."

"Ignore them, Michelle. The elites told me that they're practicing support training, cutting debris of walls, so they collapse in a direction that hurts people."

"Hey, don't treat me like I'm fear-mongering. I was in line with the woman who was talking about it."

"What are you guys talking about?"

"The monster targets the elites are training with."

"The wreckage targets. Stop talking about monsters."

"Wait up. This is serious deja vu."

"What do you mean?"

"Crazy Pixie told everyone they were monster targets, and the rational woman beside her kept explaining they were support targets."

"Crazy Pixie?"

"Yeah, that's what people are calling here. She's super hot but her black pixie cut kinda makes her look like a super opinionated lesbo."

"What does her haircut have to do with what she was saying? I want to know about monsters."

"Oh, right. I was bringing that up because she was pure FUD, man. She was snapping like a butch social justice warrior only about monsters."

"On with it. Seriously, what'd she say?"

"She kept pointing out that [no one] knew what was happening."

"Wait, not even the military?"

"Yeah, that was the crazy part. Why wouldn't the special forces know?"

"Nah, that sounds too crazy."

"Hey guys, I overheard you... I also heard that from the elites in my line. They argued on what's happen, but everyone agreed that no one knows what's happening, even the military."

"Wait, what did they say about the monsters?"

"The monsters? What are you talking about?"

"Wait, what did you hear?"

"Apparently, we're going to war with Russia; the only thing in dispute is whether we're at war right now."

"Wait! What!? We're going to war right now?"

"Yeah, that's what one of the elites overheard one of the military members saying.

I guess this place is like… 10,000 miles away from Malta, so we can't see the jets."

"Yo, calm down. I know they put us to sleep to get here, but we weren't asleep for eighteen hours, yo."

"Yeah, I left at 5 am, and the sun rose when I got here. This is all FUD, man.

Most of the elites keep reminding us that cultivation is a military art form and the military is a client. That's why they're training.

From what I'm hearing, it sounds like two salty women and some guy are spreading FUD, and we're all freaking out now, yeah?"

"I agree with all the rational people. But… it still worries me because I don't know and can't check. You know?"

"Right? I wish I had never heard the rumors. They're kinda ruining my day."

"I wish that we could just check our phones for a moment. Then we could go back to having fun."

—July 1st, 2032 | Strategy Meeting | 6 Days Until the Rapture—

"You know the game telephone?" Kiera began, explaining the [scramble-hack].

"You start with a simple message, and then everyone tells the story to the person next to them to see how wild it gets at the end.

It's played in two directions to see which side can get the most accurate version of the truth."

"Yeah, I think everyone knows that." Sage replied dryly.

"While it always results in three versions of a story, they share the same topic, so people believe the topic, which is the problem." Kiera continued, ignoring the redhead.

"But… if we were to release drastically conflicting versions of the truth from the beginning, everyone would argue over the events and won't believe anything. It's a [scramble].

Here's the [hack]. We'd introduce two ridiculous conspiracy theories and the story [we want].

For example, we'd spread rumors we're training for a world war with Russia and fighting a cultivator monster attack. Two conspiracy theories.

Then we'd add our message as the voice of reason.

Cultivation is a military art form—it's great for self-defense, it's the cure for cancer, shill, shill, shill.

Now everyone's arguing over conspiracies they don't believe, and people are spreading our message to be reasonable—military training solves problems, not panicking.

Monster attack? Military training. Russian war? Military training. Cultivation school? Military training. It's a win-win."

Evalyn's eyes glided to the left. "That's brilliant... but if we do that, won't it shock everyone when they find out there really is a major problem?"

"No, it'll help us a lot." Kiera shook her head, "Tomorrow, we'll come out and tell them there's a pandemic breaking out.

It's neither a war nor a monster attack. No one can get mad at us after they spread fake news everywhere, thus diluting the small amounts of truth.

They'll blame each other, not us."

Everyone but the emperor gave Kiera strange expressions, stunned by the peculiar pink-haired teen sitting on Kaze's lap.

—July 1st, 2032 | Training Grounds | 6 Days Until the Rapture—

Kiera sighed, watching her strategy [killin' it] in the wild.

Everything turned out just as she expected. People were discrediting the conspiracy theories with their messages but fueling the fear anyway. It was brilliant.

However, there was something that she didn't account for.

-

"Yeah, but… still. Where's the Emperor? If someone asked him, it would clear all this anxiety."

"I wish that guy wouldn't just disappear during practice. It's kinda annoying."

"Right? Is he even teaching us anything? Or just giving us resources and letting us yell at each other."

-

When the pink-haired teen heard people start shit-talking Kaze, her heart pulsed violently.

It was uncharacteristic for her, but it didn't change the situation.

Her anxiety disappeared, her emotions boiled her blood, and her eyes flashed with murderous intent.

"Hey, mourn hub!" Kiera yelled, storming over to the group.

The group talking shit about Kaze turned to her in confusion.

"Yeah, you—the lot with eighth-grade syndrome." She scoffed, glaring at them with her typically cute but currently savage face on display.

"There's a post-apocalyptic Russian nuclear war with cultivation monsters raging outside.

Ya'll should check it out. It's fuckin' lit."

The men and women were baffled, trying to decipher what had just happened.

"Wait, are you telling us… to go die or something?" A man asked in stupefaction.

"Yeah, that's [exactly] what I'm saying." Kiera confirmed venomously, "Isn't that what you want?

Apparently, the world's falling apart, yet everyone's chillin' at a baller 5-star resort in mansions, swimming, learning billion-dollar techniques—rent-free.

Since everyone's bitching about the person giving them everything and how they're not doing enough, I thought you didn't like it here."

"Look, we're not trying to start anything here." A man said, "Right, Cher?"

The blonde next to her was not reconciliatory. The built-up stress from the last few hours hit a breaking point, and her eyes turned equally vicious.

"That's right, Mark. We weren't doing anything or starting problems." Cher confirmed caustically, "Yet this bitch walked up telling us to go die.

Now there is a problem, and I'll rip her pretty little face off if she doesn't leave."