Ian Quinn looked up and was momentarily stunned. It was a young man in his twenties, dressed in white, with a proud and aloof expression—the very same white-robed envoy who had piloted the magic vessel and brought him to the Immortal Sect.

"You..."

In an instant, countless thoughts flashed through Ian Quinn's mind. He couldn't understand why this person would come here to see someone as unlucky as himself.

After all, although they had met once, on the way to the Immortal Sect, the other party had barely spoken a few words to him. Now, appearing here so suddenly, it was naturally extremely strange.

Though surprised, Ian Quinn did not lose his manners. He stood up and bowed. "Simon Thomas."

A trace of pity flashed in the other's eyes, along with a hint of indignation. He sighed, "Come with me."

"Where to?"

Ian Quinn felt lost, but he did not hesitate. In this sacred place of the Immortal Sect, he was nothing more than an ant who had lost his qualification, while the other was a dignified Immortal Envoy—there was no need for him to scheme against someone like Ian Quinn.

So he followed the man out the door.

Outside, the blazing sun was high—it was already noon. Outside the small stone house, a crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle.

"Look, he's coming out."

"Senior Brother Quinn, how does it feel to be abandoned by the Immortal Sect?"

"Serves you right. Born into a poor family, you actually thought you could leap like a carp and become a dragon, soaring to the heavens? Overestimating yourself! This is what happens when evil meets evil. I think you should just go home and herd cattle."

...

For a while, mocking laughter filled the air, cold sarcasm and ridicule. Those other mortal disciples were as sharp-tongued as possible, as if only by doing so could they ease the pain of having their own qualifications revoked.

A flash of anger appeared in Ian Quinn's eyes. He clenched his fists tightly, but soon relaxed his fingers, a hint of calm appearing at the corner of his mouth. Let them shout all they want—they were nothing but a bunch of pitiful cowards, or perhaps timid mad dogs. Why bother with such people?

Cultivation is also about cultivating the mind. Over these ten years, he had endured countless hardships to reach this point. The road ahead might be rough, but could it be worse than the pain of being devoured by a thousand ants? What did the ridicule of the crowd matter?

With this thought, Ian Quinn's state of mind became clear and tranquil. Though the future was still uncertain, he was no longer dejected. He ignored the jeers and followed the white-robed Immortal Envoy forward.

"Get on!"

The other released a flash of sword light. Without asking, Ian Quinn stepped onto it.

The man then clasped his hands, and a magical incantation shot from his fingertips. The sword light, originally several feet long, unfurled beneath their feet, transforming into a small magic vessel, which then soared into the sky.

Vast green mountains, shrouded in clouds and mist—looking down from above, pavilions and palaces were scattered like stars, their rooftops and towers nestled among lush greenery, making the scenery even more breathtaking. This was truly a paradise on earth.

Ian Quinn was utterly entranced, his mind reeling. How could a mere mortal ever witness such beauty? In this lifetime, I must become an immortal cultivator.

He swore silently to himself.

The flight was swift. In less than a quarter of an hour, the two landed atop a mountain a thousand feet high.

The mountain was extremely steep, like a sharp sword piercing the sky, with no path leading up. Only cultivators who could ride the clouds and mist could reach the summit; for mortals, it was utterly impossible.

However, the mountaintop had a sizable flat area, where a solitary pavilion stood. Though only three stories tall, it was built with imposing grandeur.

The entire pavilion was shrouded in a semi-circular light barrier, enveloping the whole structure. Clearly, this was the legendary immortal restriction.

Without a word, the white-robed Immortal Envoy raised his hand. At some point, a command talisman had appeared in his palm. With a flash of red light, it flew forward, and the barrier opened, revealing a passage wide enough for two people.

"Let's go."

The white-robed Immortal Envoy strode ahead. Ian Quinn's heart was filled with countless questions, but he held them back and followed silently inside.

Chapter 10: The Immortal Sect's Compensation

Ian Quinn's composure did not escape the white-robed Immortal Envoy's notice. He sighed inwardly—this boy's temperament and aptitude were truly first-class. What a pity he was born at the wrong time. If there had been enough Spirit Awakening Pills in previous years, someone with his character and talent would surely have been recognized by the Immortal Sect. As long as his spiritual root wasn't too poor, he would have been considered a promising seedling.

But this year, there were so few Spirit Awakening Pills.

Such is fate—what can one do? He stepped forward and opened the pavilion door.

From the outside, the building looked imposing. Inside, it was even more spacious than expected—"magnificent" was not enough to describe it. Shelves upon shelves were piled high with gold and silver, land deeds, and all kinds of treasures.

Ian Quinn was dumbfounded.

It wasn't the vast wealth that shocked him, but rather—weren't immortals supposed to be above worldly desires? Why collect all this gold and jewelry?

Over the past ten years, though he had devoted himself to cultivating the Immortal Path, in his spare time he also read miscellaneous books, especially those related to cultivators, which he particularly enjoyed.