“Disciple... disciple... ate the Essence Transforming Grass...”

Henry Clark quickly turned things over in his mind and decided it was best to tell the truth, so he put on a look of utter fear and respect and replied.

“Sigh, yet another one trying to take a shortcut with the Essence Transforming Grass. Well, discovering its marvelous use is your own fortune. I’ll allow you to be promoted to an outer disciple of the Qingyun Sect. Here, take this order token—it is proof of your status as a Qingyun Sect disciple. Later, take this token to the Qingmu Hall, and someone will arrange a place for your cultivation, grant you the Qingyun Sect’s Daoist robe, magical tool, and cultivation techniques...”

The elder seemed a bit disappointed. After asking for Henry Clark’s name, he took a drop of his blood, fused it into a small black wooden token, tossed it to him, and sent him out.

“That’s it?”

Henry Clark stood outside the pavilion, a bit dazed, not expecting it to be so simple.

“Could it be that many people have already discovered the use of the Essence Transforming Grass?”

Henry Clark couldn’t quite figure it out. He turned the wooden token over and saw that it was engraved with the character “丁”.

No matter what, the “Ding” rank was definitely not a good grade. Even the spirit fields—the “Ding” area was the worst.

What Henry Clark didn’t know was that, although ordinary Daoist novices didn’t know the marvelous use of the Essence Transforming Grass, the elders of these Daoist sects, who devoted themselves to cultivation and studied pharmacology deeply, certainly did. However, Daoist cultivation values aptitude above all, and the Qingyun Sect is even more so. So, although they have ways to help someone with no talent cultivate spiritual energy, they simply won’t do it.

After all, people with such poor aptitude, even if they barely set foot on the path of cultivation, have little future.

However, Daoism also values fate and comprehension, so a novice who cultivates using the Essence Transforming Grass, though usually of poor aptitude, will still be given the status of an outer disciple in the Qingyun Sect. As for what they might achieve in the future, that depends on their own fortune.

Chapter 8: A Short Fuse

“Hand over your token for me to see!”

A cold voice rang out—it was that dead-faced senior brother, who had actually been waiting outside the pavilion the whole time. Henry Clark was about to hand over the token, but the senior brother waved his hand, and an invisible force pulled the token from Henry Clark’s hand and made it fly over. The dead-faced senior brother glanced at the token, and a look of contempt immediately appeared on his face.

“Ding-rank aptitude? Hmph, another useless one!”

He tossed the token back to Henry Clark and said impatiently, “Go to the Qingmu Pavilion yourself. I have things to do and won’t accompany you!”

With that, he pointed in the general direction of the Qingmu Pavilion and turned to leave.

Henry Clark was furious, cursing out loud, thinking to himself, “What kind of people are these cultivators anyway?”

It was obvious that this dead-faced guy was actually supposed to escort new disciples to the Qingmu Pavilion and help them get their things, but as soon as he saw Henry Clark’s low aptitude, he couldn’t be bothered and left without even pretending.

“I’ll remember you! Sooner or later, I’ll make you pay!”

Henry Clark stomped down the mountain in anger. He wanted to go to the Qingmu Pavilion himself but didn’t know the way. The sect was full of strange peaks and winding palaces, making him dizzy. The dead-faced guy had only vaguely pointed in a direction—how was he supposed to know where the Qingmu Pavilion was?

“Uh... Junior Brother Clark...”

Up ahead, a big pig-headed figure hurried over. When he saw Henry Clark from afar, he stopped in his tracks.

This pig-headed guy was actually the fat Daoist from before. He had promised yesterday to wait for Henry Clark by the Pure Heart Bell to guide him, but after drinking too much last night, he completely forgot. It wasn’t until the bell rang that he woke up in a panic, got up in a hurry, and headed for the Qingmu Pavilion. Halfway there, he happened to run into Henry Clark, who was cursing as he walked.

The two faced each other, and the fat Daoist felt a bit awkward. Although they had called each other brothers and drank together yesterday, that was under the influence of alcohol. Now, though he wanted to befriend Henry Clark, he felt a bit embarrassed.

“Aiya, my pig senior brother, I’ve been waiting for you for so long! What took you so long?”

Henry Clark immediately understood the fat Daoist’s thoughts and greeted him with a big smile.

“Ah... ahem, my surname is Yu, not Pig... Sorry for making you wait so long, junior brother...”

Seeing Henry Clark so enthusiastic, the fat Daoist’s awkwardness vanished, and he walked over with a big smile.

“Junior Brother Clark, why are you alone? Didn’t any senior brother guide you?”

“There was a dead-faced senior brother, but he had diarrhea and ran to the latrine. I couldn’t wait, so I decided to go by myself...”

“Uh... how can a cultivator get diarrhea?”

“Who knows, maybe his guts are rotten...”

Henry Clark made up nonsense as he cursed the dead-faced guy, putting his arm around the fat Daoist’s neck as they walked.

He was short, so he could barely reach the fat Daoist’s shoulder, and that was with the fat Daoist leaning over.

“Junior Brother Clark, what rank was your aptitude rated?”

“Haha, what about you?”

“Senior brother is ashamed—it’s Ding-rank...”

“Haha, then we’re about the same!”

One tall, one short, one fat, one thin—the two of them chatted and laughed as they headed toward the Qingmu Pavilion.