So-called “eating out” most likely means going out to plunder. Who knows if Charles Carter understood, but David Sullivan definitely did. His expression didn’t change, and he cupped his hands, saying, “Thank you for your appreciation, Branch Master.”

He knew that the “meritorious one” wasn’t himself, so he rushed to show off his abilities, hoping to gain some recognition. It worked out decently—at least he became a minor leader and was no longer just seen as an appendage of Charles Carter.

Adam Brooks seemed to see through his thoughts, smiled faintly without confirming or denying, and turned his gaze to Charles Carter: “And you?”

Charles Carter said, “I’ve never practiced martial arts.”

Adam Brooks laughed, with a hint of mockery: “That move when you stabbed Ethan Sullivan, the way you used your strength—anyone who knows the trade could tell you’ve never trained. So what other skills do you have? Literacy? Arithmetic?”

Although Charles Carter felt that with his modern knowledge, he could easily get by doing internal affairs, he wasn’t here just to get by.

He took a deep breath and said through gritted teeth, “On the way, I heard the brothers say that the Sacred Sect’s arts take a different path, and there are quite a few techniques that don’t require starting from childhood… Can I formally join the sect and learn the Sacred Sect’s arts?”

Adam Brooks narrowed his eyes.

The Blood God Sect’s signature technique, Blood God Art, had extremely strict requirements for transmission—even he hadn’t reached that level. But as for joining the sect and teaching some decent core techniques, that was clearly possible.

Charles Carter was different from David Sullivan; he had truly proven his loyalty—killing the person the Grand Warden of Daxia’s Demon Suppression Division wanted to save, right in front of her. Someone like that could only follow them to the end, and could absolutely be absorbed as a core member.

The reason they were allowed into the altar to speak was originally because the sect leader intended to recruit them; otherwise, neither of them would have gotten in.

But Adam Brooks was still quite displeased.

He was the one who first injured Ethan Sullivan! The credit slipped away from his hands and was picked up by this country bumpkin. Although Branch Master Taylor had arrived by then and he really couldn’t have killed Ethan Sullivan, he still found Charles Carter annoying—he was jealous.

Since the sect leader didn’t care much, if he was placed under his own branch, he could make things difficult for him as he pleased. Even if he was to join the sect, he could be left hanging for a few months…

He was silent for a moment, then slowly said, “It’s not just our Blood God Sect’s techniques… Any technique the outside world calls ‘demonic arts’ is, in their eyes, all about ‘quick results with little effort.’ Most don’t require years of foundational training from childhood, and progress is rapid. But correspondingly, there are many downsides. For example… the training is very painful, and it’s easy to go astray and become possessed.”

Charles Carter said, “I’m mentally prepared for that.”

Adam Brooks sneered, “What good is being mentally prepared? Without faith in the god, how can you endure the pain, and who will protect you from going astray? You probably don’t even know what the Blood God is, so how can you have faith?”

Damn… Charles Carter could only say, “I’ll make sure to learn about it.”

“We are a sect, not a martial clan. Before you have faith in the Blood God, you cannot join.” Adam Brooks revealed a self-satisfied smile. “But don’t say we don’t reward those with merit… Before your initiation assessment, I can first teach you a branch technique called Blood Fiend Art, which can serve as a foundation for other sect techniques. Once you truly become a brother of the sect, the sect’s protectors will naturally teach you the divine arts.”

Charles Carter hesitated, then could only cup his hands and say, “Thank you, Branch Master Brooks.”

Adam Brooks waved his hand, “Go on, for now you’re only permitted to live in the stronghold. Without a summons, you may not enter the altar. But tonight, you can have an extra chicken leg as a reward for your merit.”

Charles Carter: “……”

Damn, such a big contribution and all he gets is a branch technique and a chicken leg? Looks like this branch master isn’t too friendly toward him—there’ll be more trouble ahead.

What else could he do?

Obviously, there were no good people in a demonic sect. He’d already expected a path full of thorns. Take it slow—at least now he had a technique.

……

Night fell.

Inside the stronghold, Charles Carter was still assigned to share a room with David Sullivan, and they had to sleep on the same bed in a wooden cabin.

Actually, on the way back, the inns had arranged them like this as well, but on the road, David Sullivan always sulked and never lay down with Charles Carter; Charles Carter would just shamelessly take the bed, and David Sullivan could only sleep slumped over the table.

Charles Carter didn’t feel the least bit sorry. Was anyone forcing you to sleep on the table? So pretentious.

But tonight, he tried to pull David Sullivan up from the table. “Since you’re not sulking anymore and willing to talk to me, why are you still sleeping on the table? Get on the bed.”

David Sullivan pulled his wrist back, and Charles Carter realized he couldn’t even touch this seemingly frail senior brother—turns out, being at the first level of the Xuan Gate really was impressive. He could only withdraw his hand helplessly. “What are you being so proud for? This isn’t your private courtyard in the outer sect anymore. You’ll have to squeeze in when you have to. Are you really going to sleep on the table forever?”

David Sullivan said coldly, “I’m not used to sleeping with others.”

Charles Carter snorted, “What if the other person is a woman?”

David Sullivan looked him up and down for a while, then sneered, “Do you even know you have a scar on your face now? You look hideous. Even if it was a woman, she’d be the ugliest in the world. If she threw herself at me, I’d kick her out.”

A scar on his face? Charles Carter hadn’t looked in a mirror for a long time, so he wasn’t sure. Back when he saved a child at the Zhao residence, he did get slashed, and never treated it. It probably really had become a scar.