Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

"Seventy-three years old..."

Murphy murmured as he gazed at Mo Ling’s delicate little face.

In his past life, there was a saying: at fifty, one knows the will of heaven.

But from what he’d seen, in the era of his past life, many people didn’t necessarily "know the will of heaven" even when they reached fifty, or even seventy.

Even at seventy, they were still in their prime, still striving.

Or to be more precise, they still had expectations for the future, even if those expectations were born from their own anxieties.

Later, he came to understand.

It wasn’t that one couldn’t know the will of heaven at fifty. Rather, only after experiencing life and death, after crossing the threshold of one’s expected lifespan, could one truly understand what "the will of heaven" meant.

For such people, every extra day of life was a gift from the heavens, so they could be open-minded about everything, their state of mind tranquil and serene.

In the cities of his past life, a seventy-year-old might still be planning trips or even addicted to games. How could they easily "know the will of heaven"?

It was no wonder they still had the drive to strive even at such an advanced age.

’An old kid, an old kid.’

To remain a kid at heart.

First, you have to believe you can live long enough. Or rather, you have to possess a sufficiently safe external and internal environment to expect that you can live long enough.

Only then can you maintain the heart of a child.

It was just as the old gentleman Murphy had overheard before boarding the carriage had said: "The Holy Throne is farsighted. He is using today’s investment to forge a more stable foundation of faith and a more powerful guardian force for tomorrow."

Why so farsighted?

It was simply because of a long lifespan.

Only when you believe your ideals can be implemented across a long expanse of time can you possess true foresight.

Otherwise, it’s just a matter of "live for today, for tomorrow we may die."

After all that, it really boiled down to one core idea.

Even though Murphy was seventy-three, for a Foundation Establishment Cultivator whose lifespan could exceed five hundred years, he was merely in his prime—the perfect age for striving.

At this thought, Murphy pushed down his ruminations and reined in his wandering mind. He looked at his daughter’s expectant eyes in the candlelight, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

He raised his right hand, his long, slender fingers tracing a line through the air.

In an instant, a gentle breeze seemed to sweep through the private compartment.

Countless motes of Spiritual Qi in various colors were drawn in as if by an invisible vortex.

It started with a faint golden halo, then a wisp of silvery starlight wrapped around it, followed by the emerald green Vitality of Plants and Trees, the azure spiritual rhyme of water vapor, the deep brown weight of the earth...

All sorts of Heaven and Earth Spiritual Qi, each with different properties that an ordinary person might never perceive in their entire lifetime, gathered from every corner of the room, from beside the dancing flames in the fireplace, and even from the distant night outside the window, swirling and weaving together above his palm.

As docile as a child’s modeling clay, it quickly condensed, stretched, and solidified.

A few seconds later, a "little sword"—crystal clear, only a finger long, yet exquisitely detailed—floated above his palm.

This "little sword" bore a slight resemblance to a frosting sword on top of a cake, but it was far more ethereal. A rainbow-like shimmer flowed across its entire body, and a nebula seemed to slowly swirl within it.

At the end of the hilt, a small, cute bow tie was cleverly woven from even softer pink and pale-yellow Spiritual Qi.

Murphy held his palm out to Mo Ling. The Spiritual Energy Sword quivered slightly, emitting a soft hum like the buzzing of a bee’s wings. It flew a light circle around Mo Ling’s curious, upturned face before finally hovering in front of her, its tip dipping slightly as if in a bow.

"Mo Ling, this is a little gift for you," Murphy said, a rare hint of playfulness in his voice.

Mo Ling’s dark eyes instantly widened, reflecting the shimmering, colorful little sword, and were filled with utter astonishment.

But she quickly pursed her lips, trying to make her expression seem more mature as she tilted her little chin up slightly.

"Father, I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m already eight years old, and I’ve finished the first volume of *Basic Elements Overview* and *Principles of Geometry*."

"I know." Murphy nodded agreeably, the smile in his eyes deepening. "An eight-year-old young lady is certainly not an ordinary child. However, this isn’t a toy for a ’little kid.’ This is for a ’young lady’... hmm, a miniature demonstration model for Spiritual Energy Dynamics. You can observe its Energy flow paths and structural stability."

As he spoke, he manipulated the little sword to perform more complex maneuvers. At times, it would thrust forward, creating a barely audible whoosh. At others, it would trace perfect circles or figure-eights in the air. Its glow would flicker on and off, simulating the switch between Spiritual Qi of different attributes.

Mo Ling’s eyes grew wider and wider as she tried to follow every detail of the little sword’s movements, unconsciously muttering:

"The Energy output is so stable... The attrition rate from the attribute conversion is imperceptible to the naked eye..."

Finally, the little sword did a nimble somersault, the bow on its hilt wiggling playfully, and then gently "pecked" the tip of her nose.

"Pfft."

A stifled giggle escaped Mo Ling’s lips.

She quickly covered her mouth, but her eyes had already curved into crescents, and her shoulders were shaking slightly.

"Father!" she protested laughingly, her voice soft and sweet. She reached out to catch the mischievous little sword, but it deftly dodged her, circled around her once, and then slowly landed in her outstretched palm. Its light gradually faded, turning into a warm mote that seeped into her skin, bringing with it a comfortable warmth.

"See? It’s good that you’re smiling," Murphy said gently, retracting his hand.

Mo Ling clenched her little fist, feeling the lingering warmth in her palm. Her face was flushed, and she lowered her head, a little embarrassed. But she quickly remembered something and looked up, glancing around. "Where’s Mother?"