Edward Clark was walking in the southern part of the city, where the streets were crowded with pedestrians and bustling merchants, making it a very prosperous area. Among them were quite a few martial artists carrying swords.

So he found a bookstore.

As soon as he entered, a shop assistant greeted him warmly with a smile.

The bookstore was very elegant, with calligraphy and paintings hanging on the walls. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting mottled patterns across the room. An old man sat quietly reading a book.

Seeing Edward Clark come in, the old man gently put down his book, marked his place with a bookmark, stood up, and smiled: “Young master, your face is unfamiliar. May I ask your surname?”

“No need for formalities, my surname is Wang. May I ask your surname, sir?” Edward Clark naturally gave his current surname.

“I am surnamed Liu. May I ask, Young Master Wang, what kind of book are you looking for?”

“Elder Liu!” Edward Clark cupped his hands slightly and said, “The Thirteen Volumes of the Official Rituals of Qingyang Palace—do you have any of them here?”

The old man stroked his beard, a look of pride on his face: “In this Qingyun Bookroom of mine, all thirteen volumes of the Rituals are available, divided into three sections: the Boundless Salvation Section, the Five Elements Great Cavern Section, and the Praying to the Gods and Transformation Section. How many would you like, Young Master Wang?”

In this world, to become a Daoist priest, one must be thoroughly familiar with these three sections and thirteen volumes, pass examinations, and the public is allowed to copy and circulate them.

Edward Clark understood this well: Salvation is for recruiting followers, the Five Elements is the foundation of cultivation, and Praying to the Gods is for consecrating statues and inviting deities—these are the basics of the basics.

He just wondered whether any of these volumes contained the true texts.

If they did, Edward Clark would really have to reassess how open this world was. But this was just a passing thought, and he smiled, saying, “You have quite a collection, sir. Let me take a look first.”

“Please.”

Edward Clark casually pulled out a volume.

These Daoist scriptures were not very long, about ten thousand characters per scroll, each scroll five feet long when unrolled, all hand-copied in ink, each character as large as a thumbprint. At a glance, he felt a stir in his spirit, as if a tortoise shell moved within, and knew that this was indeed a complete ritual scripture, with true texts hidden within.

He looked through a few more volumes and found them all complete, so he stopped, smiling faintly: “Sir, may I ask how much for the whole set?”

The old man smiled and held up one finger: “One tael of silver per volume, thirteen taels for the full set.”

Even a government runner only earned about one string of coins a month; for ordinary people, this price was very expensive. But Edward Clark didn’t mind, though he still said, “Sir, one string per volume is really too much…”

The old man glanced at him and said, “Young master, you have an extraordinary bearing. I’m sure you’ll achieve great things in the future. I’d like to make a good connection with you, so I’ll make a concession—how about nine hundred coins per volume?”

Edward Clark thought for a moment, nodded, and said, “Deal!”

One tael of silver equals one string of coins, so the total was eleven strings and seven hundred coins. He immediately took out a gold leaf and some small silver pieces.

In a moment, he put the scriptures into his pouch and took his leave.

As soon as he stepped outside and was strolling down the street, he heard a shout: “Found him!”

Edward Clark was startled and turned to look, seeing a clerk from the Zhang family pharmacy bowing and leading someone out. The clerk led out a young master, hair bound with a silver crown, dressed in a blue robe, who came over and stopped in front of him, squinting his eyes, which were dark and deep, sizing him up and down, and said, “You are Edward Clark?”

Edward Clark frowned. Who was this person?

Four servants followed behind, staring at Edward Clark. Lucky shouted, “Young master, this brat dares not answer you—I think he’s tired of living!”

The young man was none other than David Bolton. He wore a blue robe and carried a folding fan, looking elegant and refined, but the servants behind him were nothing like that, each with a vicious look in their eyes. They all crowded around to back up their young master. If it were an ordinary person, they would have been intimidated—such was the division of roles.

David Bolton saw that Edward Clark didn’t answer, frowned, and said, “I heard you’re Edward Clark from Dayan Temple? Alice Bennett’s senior brother?”

Hearing Alice Bennett mentioned, Edward Clark’s heart stirred and everything became clear.

His gaze swept over them, and the others understood immediately.

These people were just ordinary folk, with no Daoist skills. Even if they had learned a bit of martial arts, it was nothing much. Judging by their display, they were either rich or noble.

“I am Edward Clark. So what?”

David Bolton saw him respond, his muscles twitched, and he said coldly, “So you are Edward Clark? Let me tell you, don’t think your junior sister can help you out. I’ve already talked her around!”

This man was not stupid; he just felt that with someone like Edward Clark, there was no need for subtlety or courtesy. After saying this, he lashed his horsewhip fiercely in the air and said, “Others can refuse, but you must come!”

Thinking of soon getting rid of Edward Clark, and of Alice Bennett’s beautiful figure, David Bolton sneered again: “Of course, if you’re willing to kneel and beg for mercy in public, and obediently hand over your junior sister, I’ll be magnanimous and let you go, for the sake of your relationship as fellow disciples. How about that?”

Seeing him like this, Edward Clark said nothing, his eyes coldly sweeping over the group.

David Bolton keenly sensed Edward Clark’s gaze and was instantly furious. This fake Daoist, who didn’t even have an official Daoist certificate, dared look at him like that. His face darkened, and Lucky immediately noticed, jumping out and roaring, “Still daring to glare at the young master? Hit him, beat this wild Daoist to death!”

As soon as he finished, the servants lunged at him.