Looking at the ancient, traditional Daoist temple before him, Henry Bolton seemed to see his master back in the day, building a hermitage here to cultivate and teach disciples. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow, while secretly making up his mind to carry forward the glory of Wudang. Passing through the main gate, the first thing that caught his eye was the statue of George Bolton. Seeing the familiar portrait again, tears welled up in his eyes. Henry Bolton bowed deeply to George Bolton, then walked toward a small path behind the side hall. The winding path was flanked by lush green jade bamboo, and the path itself was paved with smooth pebbles. After walking for nearly a hundred meters along the winding trail, an ancient wall blocked the way. But Henry Bolton didn’t stop at all; he simply walked through the ancient wall and disappeared down the path. If any tourists had seen this, they would have been utterly shocked, thinking it was a ghost passing through walls.

In fact, it was nothing more than a Daoist seal, and the ancient wall was just a visual trick to prevent tourists from being startled. Although the Daoist who set up the formation must have had considerable cultivation, to Henry Bolton, who was already at the Nascent Soul stage, it was nothing more than a child’s game. At the foot of Yuchun Palace, Henry Bolton had already sensed dozens of energy fluctuations of varying strength. These energies were very familiar and intimate—only those who practiced the Wudang Immortal Arts could emit such energy. Upon arriving at Yuchun Palace, Henry Bolton could clearly feel that these familiar energies were emanating from the right rear of the main hall. So, after paying respects to the statue of George Bolton, Henry Bolton headed straight for the right rear of the main hall.

After passing through the ancient wall, what appeared before Henry Bolton was a vast garden filled with all kinds of rare and exotic herbs and precious medicinal plants. In the center of the garden, a small path led off into the distance toward a simple Daoist temple. In front of the temple, two Daoists about fifteen or sixteen years old were gently sweeping fallen leaves from the entrance. When they looked up and saw Henry Bolton, they were instantly dumbfounded, unconsciously dropping their brooms to the ground.

“Junior Miller, am I seeing things? Why is there a young Daoist walking toward us?” The slightly chubby Daoist on the left rubbed his eyes in disbelief, then stared blankly at Henry Bolton as he drew closer.

The two young Daoists had grown up here since childhood. For more than a decade, apart from the current Wudang sect leader Master Ethan occasionally coming here to consult with the Wudang elders or pay his respects, no one else had ever entered this place. As disciples who had cultivated here for over ten years, how could they not know that this place was protected by a restriction set by their elders? Not to mention ordinary people—even those without sufficient cultivation could never enter. Yet now, a young Daoist who looked only about twenty was walking toward them in the flesh. How could they not be utterly astonished?

“Greetings to you both! Could you please call for Owen and say that someone from Feisheng Cliff has come to visit?” Seeing that the two Daoists were just standing there in a daze, making no move to greet him, Henry Bolton had no choice but to softly state his purpose.

Since the time of George Bolton, Wudang disciples have been ranked by the characters Xuan, Yun, Kong, Wu, Ku, Zhen, Xu, Zi, Qing, Ming, Hao, Yuan, and so on. As George Bolton’s last disciple, Henry Bolton, though only a hundred years old, belonged to the Yun generation—seven generations senior to the current sect leader Master Ethan. Even the highest-ranking disciple in Wudang besides Henry Bolton, Master Owen, would have to address Henry Bolton as Grandmaster Uncle. Although George Bolton did not teach Henry Bolton the ways of the secular world, he never ceased to instill in him the traditional etiquette of respecting elders and teachers. Although Master Owen is now the oldest and most highly cultivated disciple of the Ku generation, to Henry Bolton, he is still just a junior, so Henry Bolton naturally addressed him directly as Adam.

Chapter Five: Wudang Disciples

Henry Bolton was stunned. He didn’t know how he had offended the two young Daoists before him. Thinking carefully over what he had said, he felt sure he hadn’t said anything offensive. Although Henry Bolton knew he was inexperienced in worldly matters, he was certain he hadn’t spoken out of turn. Having just been inexplicably attacked by a young woman and called a “stinky Daoist,” and now being coldly turned away at his own sect, even someone as simple as Henry Bolton began to feel a bit annoyed. With his level of cultivation, even a thousand more Daoists like these two couldn’t stop his advance. But as the disciple of Wudang’s founding patriarch and the highest authority in the sect today, Henry Bolton still had his dignity. He didn’t need a grand reception from Wudang, but he also couldn’t bring himself to barge in uninvited.

“Owen, come out and see me!” Although Henry Bolton only called out softly, his slight annoyance led him to use a touch of immortal power. Just that tiny bit of power shook the entire Daoist temple.