Edward Harris firmly believed he could find him, and swore that he absolutely would. Yet no one knew that this tenth great thief had already joined Greenhill Order three months later, becoming his junior disciple... if a Dao attendant could even be considered a junior disciple.

Greenhill Order recruits disciples once every ten years, selecting a thousand each time, but Dao attendants are recruited at any time, with their total number exceeding ten thousand. In name, Dao attendants are also considered disciples of Greenhill Mountain, but unlike regular disciples, Dao attendants do not receive monthly spirit medicine, nor do elders lecture them. Every day, they must toil endlessly at chores, getting only one day off per month.

In exchange, they receive a thin booklet called: Qingyun Qi Refinement Manual.

After Henry Clark was led by the chubby Daoist to a row of small wooden huts and handed over to an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old man with a huge black mole on his face, the chubby Daoist grinned and handed him a stack of blue robes, a booklet, and a small wooden tag engraved with his name.

“Go on, practice. You’ve had a stroke of luck—Senior Sister Grace specifically requested that you be admitted to the sect. But since you have no recommendation, no money, and no talent, you can only start from the very bottom. This Qingyun Qi Refinement Manual is a secret art of our Greenhill Order, rarely seen by outsiders. Train well—once you reach the first level of spiritual movement, you can be promoted to an outer disciple…”

The chubby Daoist left. Henry Clark looked at the black-mole youth in front of him, arms crossed and glaring at him, as well as the young Dao attendants nearby, each putting on a pretentious, self-important air. He asked, “What level are you all at?”

The black-mole youth jabbed his thumb at himself and said fiercely, “I already have qi sense. The rest of them have nothing at all!”

Henry Clark nodded thoughtfully, then asked, “How many years have you all been here?”

The black-mole youth sneered, “I’ve been here six years, and those guys have been here three!”

Henry Clark sighed, tossed the booklet aside, and said, “Looks like I’ve been tricked by that woman!”

The black-mole youth was startled and asked curiously, “Which woman are you talking about?”

Henry Clark said, “Grace, of course. She said she’d bring me into the sect, but who knew it was just to do chores, and all I got was this lousy booklet. You guys have been here seven years or three years, and haven’t achieved anything—how is this not a scam?”

“Senior Sister Grace?”

The black-mole youth was shocked, rushed over, and grabbed Henry Clark by the collar, growling, “Shut up! Don’t get me in trouble. If anyone hears you cursing Senior Sister Grace like that, not only you, but all of us will be in for it! Remember this: once you’re in this medicine field, you listen to me. If I tell you to go east, you can’t go west. If I tell you to catch bugs, you can’t chase chickens…”

“Yeah, yeah, from now on you’ll be the one emptying the chamber pots, and fetching water every day to fill the vats…”

A freckle-faced young Dao attendant chimed in, looking like he was the one who used to do those chores.

“Hmph, and from now on, you’ll be washing the clothes, until someone new comes in!”

Another fair-skinned Dao attendant added. No need to ask—he was the one who used to wash clothes.

Henry Clark looked at each of them, nodded thoughtfully, and said, “So you’re all bullying me, huh…”

The black-mole youth grinned coldly, “Yeah, so what?”

As he spoke, he slammed his fist onto the table nearby, veins bulging on his arm, looking fierce.

“You want to hit me? I can scream, you know…”

Henry Clark pretended to be terrified, as if he’d start yelling the moment anyone laid a finger on him.

The black-mole youth chuckled, “Don’t worry, we won’t touch you now. But at night, once the door’s closed, heh, within ten miles it’s just us here. Even if you scream your lungs out, no one will care…”

“Yeah, yeah, every three months a senior from the Medicine Division comes to inspect, but the rest of the time, this place is ours. And even if you complain, the supervising seniors won’t care—they don’t have time for this. As for you, you’re out of luck. Life as a Dao attendant lasts at least ten years before you can leave the mountain…”

The freckle-faced Dao attendant threatened Henry Clark excitedly, probably his first time threatening someone, so he was a bit worked up.

“Oh, come on, big brothers, I’m an honest guy. Whatever you say, I’ll do…”

Henry Clark suddenly became meek, pitifully begging these “bosses” for mercy.

“Haha, what a wimp…”

The black-mole youth and the others burst out laughing. Clearly, they’d seen plenty like him before.

The medicine field was vast and unusual. Though it was late autumn and the air was bleak, the field was lush and green, a testament to the sect’s abilities.

On his first day, Henry Clark was put to the heaviest work in the field. Including the black-mole youth, there were six of them in total, but they had to care for all the medicine fields within a ten-mile radius. The freckle-faced boy dutifully taught Henry Clark what to do: watering, weeding, catching bugs, loosening the soil. This field was called Qingrui Flower, which needed to be watered at the fourth watch of the night, while the one called Moling Grass had to be watered at dawn…