Chapter 1: Seeking a Master at Qingyun

"Esteemed Daoist, I beg you, please accept me into your sect. I was once from a noble family, but we were slaughtered by villains—three hundred members of my family all perished by the sword. Only my little sister and I remain, orphaned and destitute, wandering the world. Admiring the prestige of the Daoist sects, I begged my way here, hoping to become a disciple and cultivate the Dao. If you would take me in, I would surely..."

In the Southern Danbu Continent, under the Taixing Mountains—one of the nine great spiritual veins of the world, at the gates of the Qingyun Daoist Sect—hundreds of young people were lined up, waiting to be questioned by a fat Daoist at the entrance. At the front of the line, a boy of about ten, his face streaked with tears, was crying out his woes. Though his face was dirty, his eyes were bright, and his mournful voice tugged at the heartstrings.

The fat Daoist looked at the boy impatiently, squinting as he asked, "Do you have a letter of recommendation?"

"No..." the boy replied awkwardly.

"Do you have any treasures to offer?"

"No..."

"Do you possess a rare physique?"

"No..."

The fat Daoist asked, the boy answered—three questions in a flash. The fat Daoist glared, then kicked the boy, sending him rolling twice, and shouted, "No letter of recommendation? Then you're a nobody. No treasure? Then you're a pauper. No rare physique? Then you're a useless waste. You, a beggar-looking wretch, dare to come to our Qingyun Sect seeking a master? Open your eyes and look—this is not a charity house!"

The long line behind burst into laughter at the scene.

Everyone thought the boy was ridiculous—penniless, yet wanting to become a disciple of the Qingyun Daoist Sect?

You should know, the Qingyun Daoist Sect is the Daoist sect of the Chu Kingdom, with a three-thousand-year legacy, revered and profound. Any disciple within is a top-tier expert. Just recently, in the northwest of Chu, a notorious bandit gang was running rampant, even the authorities were helpless. The Qingyun Sect's true disciple Edward Harris heard of it, drew his sword, and stormed the bandits' lair at Ghost Smoke Valley. Of the ten infamous bandit leaders, he slew nine with his sword—only one escaped. His name instantly shook the Chu region.

Because of this, the Qingyun Daoist Sect's reputation among the common people of Chu has soared. Now, with the once-in-a-decade disciple recruitment ceremony, countless nobles and officials are sparing no expense to send their children to cultivate in the sect—pulling strings, offering treasures, exhausting every means, yet still unable to find a way in.

And here was this child, empty-handed, looking like a beggar, wanting to become a disciple—truly a wild fantasy.

The boy, after being kicked, said nothing, but silently walked ten paces back. Suddenly, he jumped up and cursed, "You pustule-headed, pus-footed fat pig Daoist! With your stumpy body and pig snout, you dare call your grandpa a pauper? I came to your Qingyun Sect to honor you, but today you fail to recognize greatness. One day, I'll burn your shabby temple to the ground..."

"You little bastard, how dare you curse me!"

The fat Daoist was furious, grabbed a sword at his side, and charged. The boy, seeing this, darted away, weaving through the crowd with agility. The fat Daoist couldn't catch him, and stood fuming, waving his sword and cursing.

The solemn disciple recruitment ceremony of the Qingyun Daoist Sect had suddenly turned into a farce, drawing laughter from the crowd.

"A genius like me coming to your Qingyun Sect is your good fortune! You'd better take me in, or I'll join another sect, master peerless arts, and beat you Daoists till you cry for your mothers..."

Seeing the fat Daoist couldn't catch him, the boy grew cocky, shouting at the Daoist with swagger.

The fat Daoist was so angry he was about to explode, wanting to give chase, but there were too many people and his own bulk made it impossible to break through. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with an idea, and he shouted, "Whoever helps me catch this brat can register first!"

Hearing this, the boy was shocked and turned to run.

But those waiting to register around him, upon hearing this, rushed forward to catch him. All of them had been waiting in line for hours on the narrow mountain path, with thousands vying to register. The fat Daoist's offer was too tempting—catch the little rascal and skip the line.

Some even thought, even if skipping the line wasn't much, currying favor with a sect disciple was far more important.