It was rare for Steward Reed to have someone like Henry Carter who would actually listen to him speak, and even respond—a true “conversation companion.” He felt a surge of kindred spirit; even though he had just chatted with Henry Carter for half an hour that morning, by noon, upon seeing him again, it already felt like ages had passed...

“…After lunch, come to the Miscellaneous Affairs Hall to check in, then go to Little Bamboo Peak to tidy up the Sutra Repository…”

Steward Reed rambled on for quite a while, but Henry Carter only managed to catch this one useful piece of information and quickly nodded in agreement.

As a menial disciple, it wasn’t enough to just do the tasks within one’s own duties. The Miscellaneous Affairs Hall often assigned other odd jobs as well—temporary assignments. In this regard, Henry Carter was unlike those who had been in the sect for a long time and had become slick and lazy; he never shirked or slacked off. Whatever job was given to him, he always completed it swiftly and efficiently. Steward Reed’s fondness for Henry Carter had a lot to do with this.

After checking in, Henry Carter and several other menial disciples boarded Steward Reed’s wooden kite.

This wooden kite was a low-grade magical artifact in the sect, capable of riding the wind and making travel between the mountains convenient. However, it wasn’t very sturdy—especially Steward Reed’s, which looked like it was about to fall apart at any moment. When it took off, it creaked and groaned, making for a rather frightening ride.

Little Bamboo Peak was where the Qingyang Sect’s Sutra Repository was located. These days, cultivation manuals were mostly stored in jade slips, but there were still quite a few paper scrolls and even bamboo slips—antiques, really—kept in the repository more as a sentimental gesture.

However, these scrolls and bamboo slips weren’t as easy to preserve as jade slips and required regular cleaning. The Sutra Repository was vast, and not something one or two people could manage. Every cleaning and organizing session was a major undertaking.

“There are a lot of rules at Little Bamboo Peak. All of you, be careful. If you bump into a sect disciple, you’re bound to get a scolding…”

Steward Reed kept reminding them along the way, while the other menial disciples walked forward with their heads down, meek and quiet.

When they arrived in front of the Sutra Repository, Henry Carter happened to turn his head and was momentarily stunned.

Not far away, in a pavilion, several sect disciples were chatting and laughing, exuding an air of effortless confidence.

What made Henry Carter’s heart tighten slightly was that among those sect disciples, he spotted a familiar face—it was his old classmate from the Immortal Hall in Taiyue City, William Clark. Compared to a month ago, William Clark’s demeanor had changed dramatically; he now had the bearing of a true sect disciple. What surprised Henry Carter even more was seeing William Clark smiling as he demonstrated some kind of magical technique.

In his palm, green energy swirled as a withered leaf danced up and down, lively and agile.

This was a practice for sect disciples to hone their control over spiritual power—using it to manipulate a fallen leaf, making it dance nimbly in the palm.

This made Henry Carter’s heart sink: to be able to control a withered leaf like that, one had to be at least at the peak of the first level of Qi Refining…

Back in the Immortal Hall in Taiyue City, he had only been of average talent, yet now his cultivation was already so advanced?

This left Henry Carter a bit surprised, and also with a faint sense of disappointment.

The treatment sect disciples received was truly enviable…

He had been cultivating diligently for over a month, yet still had several bottlenecks he couldn’t break through, with perfection nowhere in sight—while William Clark had already…

“Heh, Junior Brother Carter, what are you looking at?”

A voice sounded beside him—it was Steward Reed coming over. Following Henry Carter’s gaze, he guessed what was on his mind, sighed, and said, “Are you envious after seeing the progress those sect disciples have made in their cultivation?”

“The gap is really that big?”

Henry Carter was silent for a while before he couldn’t help but ask.

“It’ll only get bigger!”

Steward Reed patted Henry Carter on the shoulder and sighed, “Junior Brother Carter, I wanted to tell you this when you first entered the sect. I saw how motivated you were and thought it was good for you to have something to strive for. People need something to look forward to in life. Take me, for example—without a pot of wine and half a pound of pig’s head at dinner, I can’t get by… But drifting along like this isn’t a solution either. As your senior, I don’t want to discourage you, but I should tell you a few heartfelt words. In our Qingyang Sect, although there’s a rule that menial disciples can become sect disciples, as far as I know, in the past three hundred years, not a single menial disciple has truly succeeded…”

“Why?”

Henry Carter looked genuinely stunned, staring blankly at Steward Reed.

“Because cultivation isn’t such a simple thing…”

Steward Reed gave a wry smile. “Cultivation is a path against the heavens, fraught with danger at every step, like walking on thin ice. The slightest misstep can lead to going astray and perishing. True sect disciples not only have ample resources, but every step of their cultivation is guided by a master, who may even personally help them overcome obstacles. No matter how diligently you practice, if you get stuck on a problem, you’re left treading carefully and making no progress, while they can pass through without a hitch. How can you possibly compete with that?”

“Yeah… If I had a master’s guidance, I wouldn’t still be afraid to tackle those bottlenecks…”

Henry Carter stood there in a daze, thinking of the difficulties he was currently facing in his cultivation, and felt a heaviness in his heart.