If looks could kill, Logan and Gavin would have been killed dozens of times already. All the old Daoists, as well as the relatively young-looking Owen, Eric, and Simon, were staring intently at Logan and Gavin. Some of the old Daoists secretly regretted, thinking, “If I had known that sweeping the floor could lead to finding an elixir, I would have fought for the honor of sweeping back then. And now, those two youngsters with pitiful cultivation, as weak as ants, have gotten the elixir—what a waste! Where is the justice in this?” Many Daoists wanted to look up to the sky and let out a long howl to vent their frustration, but unfortunately, the person standing before them was simply too distinguished—even Owen and the others didn’t dare to so much as fart in his presence.

Knowing that those two elixirs already had owners, everyone could only reluctantly shift their gaze away from them. They couldn’t possibly have the nerve to snatch them from the juniors! So, their eyes turned once again to Henry Bolton, hoping that a few more elixirs would float out from his Qiankun Ring.

Seeing everyone looking at him with burning eyes, the simple and honest Henry Bolton thought they found his gifts too meager. It was understandable—after all, they called him “ancestor” and had kowtowed so many times, yet he had only given them the worst elixirs from his Qiankun Ring, which contained at least several thousand pills. It did seem a bit stingy. Thinking this, the inexperienced Henry Bolton blushed, took out two more elixirs, and handed them to Logan and Gavin. Then, a bit embarrassed, he explained to Owen and the others, “It’s not that I don’t want to give more, or better elixirs—it’s just that their cultivation is too weak!” And so, Logan and Gavin inexplicably received another legendary elixir each, once again basking in the gazes of their elders.

After this, the old Daoists finally realized that this senior before them still had plenty of elixirs. Their eyes turned green as they stared at Henry Bolton—or more precisely, at the supreme token of the Wudang Sect: the Qiankun Ring. Just as Henry Bolton was starting to feel like a sheep among wolves, flattery came pouring in from all directions, overwhelming his ears. If anyone were to pass by this Daoist temple now, they would surely be stunned by the spectacle. At the very least, Logan and Gavin were already dumbfounded. A group of white-haired Daoists, who should have been the very image of immortal sages, were now fawning and flattering a simple, unremarkable young Daoist with spittle flying everywhere.

Chapter 7: Elixirs Once Again

“Ancestor, you truly are an immortal come down to earth!”

“Ancestor, you are truly extraordinarily handsome!”

“Grandmaster, may your life be as long as the Southern Mountains!”

What more could you expect in terms of elegant praise from these old relics who had been isolated from the world for centuries? The poor old Daoists racked their brains and could only squeeze out a few such plain and simple compliments. If the person surrounded in the middle were a modern man, he’d probably either die of embarrassment, freeze to death, or bleed out from losing too many goosebumps. Fortunately, Henry Bolton was also a novice Daoist, and it was his first time hearing such praise, so it didn’t do much harm to his mind or body—he just felt a bit embarrassed after hearing so much flattery. He quickly made a gesture for them to be quiet, and instantly, the surroundings became so silent that even breathing could be heard clearly. If a SWAT team instructor were here, he’d be deeply impressed by Henry Bolton’s ability to train such a disciplined group. Joking aside, when the ancestor gives the signal to be quiet, who would dare make a sound—unless they didn’t want any elixirs.

Henry Bolton was no fool; on the contrary, he was a very clever Daoist. How could he not understand what Owen and the others were thinking? He just didn’t understand—were elixirs really that important? No wonder he didn’t get it. Having grown up in an immortal valley where thousand-year-old ginseng and lingzhi grew like weeds, how could he possibly appreciate their value? Who cherishes weeds, after all? Besides, for those who had reached a certain level of cultivation, these pills had only a negligible effect. That was why the other four disciples of George Bolton couldn’t reach the Nascent Soul stage—otherwise, they could just gnaw on ginseng like carrots. Only the top-tier elixirs, left behind by ancient immortals, were truly rare and unattainable.

Now that he understood what the old Daoists wanted, as the only second-generation disciple of Wudang and the true sect leader, how could he be stingy? Besides, Henry Bolton was not a stingy person. So, he distributed several different elixirs to each person according to their cultivation level. Instantly, the aura of the elixirs soared to the sky, and even the barrier set up by Owen and the others couldn’t stop the spiritual energy from leaking out. As a result, in the following days, the number of wandering demons around Yuchun Palace increased dramatically. If not for the formidable reputation of the one who set up the immortal formation and the fear of Wudang’s strength, they might have broken in to rob the place long ago.

After handing out the elixirs, Henry Bolton also gave each person a few valuable magical artifacts and immortal swords. After all, Wudang was founded single-handedly by his master, so he had to take good care of it. Besides, if there was one thing Henry Bolton had in abundance, it was elixirs, magical artifacts, and immortal swords in his Qiankun Ring. Who knows how George Bolton managed to collect so many back in the day? Unfortunately, the highest cultivation among them was only at the mid-stage of pill refinement; otherwise, Henry Bolton would have really liked to give them even more powerful magical artifacts.