The middle-aged Taoist said arrogantly, “You can hand it over, but according to the rules, we’ll deduct twenty percent. Any objections?”

“No objections!”

The middle-aged Taoist took out a few iron tokens from his robe, picked one and handed it to Ethan Clark. “You can use this to get money or exchange for salt and oil. Go ahead and bring the firewood in!”

Ethan Clark said to Samuel Bennett, “Junior brother, give me a hand!”

The two of them carried the firewood into the courtyard, only to see piles of wood stacked like mountains—all of it wet, not a single piece of dry wood. Only then did Samuel Bennett realize that the other side was nitpicking to lower the price, and the extra twenty percent deduction was probably a kickback.

After putting down the firewood, Ethan Clark led Samuel Bennett through another door into the Taoist palace. Along the way, they encountered quite a few Taoists. When these people saw the two of them, their eyes were all upturned, looking down on them with utter disdain.

However, Samuel Bennett noticed that their Taoist robes were different colors. He tugged at Ethan Clark’s sleeve and asked, “Senior brother, why are their robes different colors?”

Ethan Clark curled his lip and said, “That’s their ranking. Black, blue, red, yellow, and purple robes represent, respectively: novice, Taoist priest, alchemist, master, and celestial master. Many wild temples imitate them, making the hierarchy very strict. Our little temple doesn’t care about that; we all wear the same thing.”

Samuel Bennett looked at his own robe—a shabby, gray patched garment that Ethan Clark had worn for ten years before passing it down to him. It was so washed out it was almost white, with more than twenty patches sewn on, and his old cloth shoes were so worn that both big toes poked out.

Ethan Clark’s robe wasn’t much better; it had been handed down from their third senior brother.

Samuel Bennett’s old layman’s clothes had only been worn for three years and were still considered new, but they’d already been cut into countless small squares to be used as future patches.

Samuel Bennett started to understand: everyone wore the same ragged robes, so there was no point in trying to be particular about appearances.

Samuel Bennett scratched his head. “But isn’t Master also a master?”

Ethan Clark snorted coldly, “Master is just being modest. Do you know who Master was before he became a Taoist? If I told you, it’d scare them to death.”

“Who was Master before he became a Taoist?” Samuel Bennett asked curiously.

Realizing he’d said too much, Ethan Clark grew flustered. “I can’t say. You’ll find out in time.”

Samuel Bennett rolled his eyes, but his heart was full of questions. Could Master be a famous figure from the Tang Dynasty?

After passing through a round gate, they arrived at the main courtyard of the Taoist palace. The terrain here was open, surrounded by ancient trees. In the center stood a granite platform with railings, covering at least five acres—very spacious. This must be the main square of the palace.

Directly facing the square was a grand hall, five or six zhang high, with flying eaves and painted beams, gilded and colorful. On a large plaque with a silver border and black background were three golden characters: 三清殿.

On the granite square, sixty young Taoist novices in black robes were practicing swordsmanship. Each wore a brand-new linen robe and thick-soled new boots, their faces rosy and eyes bright, each holding a long sword. They followed a red-robed alchemist, dancing and swinging their swords in unison, their steps light and their movements perfectly synchronized.

Samuel Bennett was stunned. Weren’t these the same children who had entered the reception hall with him? The tallest one in the middle was none other than William Bolton, who had nearly beaten his former self to death.

Ethan Clark smiled and said, “These are the new novices recruited this year. They’ll train together at Xuanhu Palace for three months, then return to their own temples. You should know them all!”

Samuel Bennett nodded silently. Ethan Clark patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s go! Master always says, ‘Flowers in a greenhouse bloom beautifully, but trees in a greenhouse never grow tall.’”

……

Ethan Clark went to the kitchen to exchange for salt. Outside the kitchen door, Samuel Bennett leaned against a big tree, waiting idly.

Only now did he begin to understand how the various temples on Mount Kongtong operated. The Zixiao Heavenly Palace and its five affiliated temples stood high above the rest, receiving imperial grain and all kinds of resources from the court.

Other wild temples, in order to survive, had to provide firewood, mountain goods, and various services to Zixiao Heavenly Palace in exchange for daily necessities. The firewood he chopped each day, except for a small portion for their own use, was exchanged for salt and oil.

But Samuel Bennett didn’t quite understand. They could just carry the firewood or mountain goods to Pingliang County to sell; surely the prices there would be fairer than at Zixiao Heavenly Palace, and they could even buy cloth, shoes, and socks.

Was there some kind of unspoken rule here?

As he was lost in thought, a cold voice suddenly sounded behind him. “So it really is this stinking piece of dog shit!”

Samuel Bennett turned around to see more than a dozen black-robed novices behind him, each holding a long sword. They were the same group of children who had bullied him in the reception hall. The leader was tall and burly, with a face full of flesh and a cruel smile at the corner of his mouth—none other than William Bolton, who had nearly beaten his former self to death.

William Bolton looked Samuel Bennett up and down, then grinned and said to the others, “This kid really did become a beggar!”

Everyone burst out laughing. Someone jeered, “Looks like he’s even fatter now. Did he drink too much slop?”

“Guo Grass, kowtow three times to your lord, and maybe I’ll reward you with a chicken bone later.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha!”

The laughter of the dozen or so novices grew even more unrestrained, as if they were back in the days when they could bully Samuel Bennett at will in the reception hall.

Samuel Bennett could bear it no longer. He muttered through gritted teeth, full of hatred, “A pack of mad dogs!”