Just as Henry Owen was feeling conflicted, he felt someone suddenly grab his hand.

It was Emily Owen, who was pulling him forward in a mad dash.

At first, Henry Owen was confused, but then he understood.

He saw the disciples who had just finished their morning exercises surging forward like a tide, racing ahead in a frenzy.

Everyone’s target was the place not far ahead called the ‘canteen’.

Henry Owen couldn’t help but sigh—he never expected that, ten years after graduating high school, he would once again experience the scramble for food in a cafeteria.

If Emily Owen ran at full speed, she would naturally be much faster than these inner and outer sect disciples who hadn’t even reached the first level of cultivation.

But she held back, only running in the middle of the crowd.

By the time the siblings got their food, there wasn’t much of the really tasty stuff left in the canteen.

Following instructions, Henry Owen handed over one or two taels of magic silver to the lunch lady.

The old lady beamed with joy—not only did she add a meat bun to his bowl, she also handed him a package.

On the outside of the package was the seal of ‘Zhengyang Canteen’. Inside was a bag of water, sixteen meat buns, two roasted duck legs, and a small bag of pickled vegetables—enough for him to eat for two days.

Henry Owen noticed that he was far from the only one doing this.

Many of the newly admitted disciples were quietly slipping silver to the lunch lady.

There was definitely a reason for this.

After breakfast, he and Emily Owen parted ways.

Emily Owen was a disciple of the Arts Institute, and usually studied talismanic arts at the Daoist temple on the north side of the martial hall.

Henry Owen, along with a group of new disciples, was led by several martial instructors to a huge stone building in the center of the martial hall.

This stone building was fifty zhang wide, seventy zhang long, and twelve stories high. Each floor was over two zhang tall, with an ancient and imposing design.

Above the main entrance were three large, gold-embossed characters: ‘Scripture Repository’.

The instructor of the East Courtyard, William Harris, was already waiting there.

She stood on the steps with her hands behind her back, looking down at the more than one hundred new disciples below.

“This is the martial sanctuary that countless warriors in Xiushui County dream of. Inside, not only is there the complete External Ten Arts of the Wuxiang Divine Sect, but also a vast collection of martial classics—seven hundred in total, all below the sixth rank—as well as countless ancient totems and visualization diagrams.

According to our martial hall’s rules, anyone who enters or exits the Scripture Repository must pay ten taels of magic silver each time! Inner sect disciples who stay inside for a day must pay thirty taels of magic silver.

However, the founder of our Wuxiang Divine Sect established a rule: all inner sect disciples of martial halls under the Divine Sect may study inside for two days free of charge upon entry.

So you must not waste this opportunity. The External Ten Arts and those martial classics inside—remember as much as you can. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can come out and ask the instructors.”

At this moment, William Harris gestured to the side, and a large group of instructors and martial teachers walked over.

“To prevent damage to the books inside, you must hand over all prohibited items after entering, including weapons, hidden weapons, fire starters, flints—especially anything that can start a fire. No open flames are allowed inside. Any single item in there is worth over a thousand taels of magic silver—you couldn’t afford to pay for it even if you sold everything you owned!”

As William Harris finished speaking, swords, axes, short spears, throwing darts, sling stones, plum blossom needles, crossbow bolts, throwing arrows, fire starters, flints, and the like clattered to the ground, making a cacophony of metallic sounds.

Someone even took out a small spiked club.

What William Harris said next surprised Henry Owen.

“To prevent you from hiding iron tools or smuggling in grease, no one is allowed to bring in outside food or water bags. The martial hall has prepared food and water for you: steamed buns are one hundred coins each, meat buns two hundred, meat sandwiches two hundred, and water bags five hundred.”

Henry Owen turned his head to look at the corner William Harris pointed to.

There, about twenty young men dressed as cooks were guarding dozens of large baskets, smiling at them with extraordinary friendliness.

The baskets were piled high with steamed buns, meat buns, meat sandwiches, and water bags.

Henry Owen couldn’t help but let out a ‘heh’, thinking to himself that these people at the martial hall really knew how to make money.

He patted the bag on his back again, feeling that the lunch lady at the canteen was truly kind-hearted.

Chapter 7: Legend

In July, the weather in Xiushui City was unpredictable.

In the early morning, the sun was still shining, but after the sixth quarter of the hour of Chen, a light rain began to fall.

After leaving the canteen, Emily Owen held an umbrella and strolled absentmindedly along the bluestone-paved alley, heading toward the Daoist temple north of the martial hall.

The temple was a bit far, situated on a small hill surrounded by vast stretches of wild forest.

Only in such sparsely populated places was it most suitable to build a foundation of spiritual power and practice the arts.

She would have to stay there for a few days, until she condensed her own ‘spirit seed’.

The spirit seed was the core of all arts, the key for an arts practitioner’s power to reach the first rank. It was equivalent to the Dragon-Tiger Golden Core of martial cultivators, able to gradually grow and eventually transform into a Nascent Soul.

Emily Owen’s cultivation had long since reached the required level, and the instructors at the Arts Institute had urged her for quite some time.

In today’s world, the arts have declined and martial strength is revered. Though arts practitioners have a place, they are generally not valued.

Once martial cultivators reach the third rank, they can summon wind and rain, shatter mountains, and split the earth.