“Yes, Jack Turner managed to hold on for five days, but in the end he went mad and fell into the demonic path. Could it be…?”

　　Everyone looked at Eric Bennett—yes, it was indeed that simpleton. The crowd hurriedly shook their heads: “Impossible. How could someone without even a hint of spiritual aptitude possibly be stronger than Jack Turner?”

　　Although no one wanted to believe it, the facts were right in front of them, and disbelief was not an option.

　　Only Owen Grant was overjoyed. He strode forward and gave Eric Bennett a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Good, good!”

　　If there was anyone in Ruolu Prison that Eric Bennett was close to, it would definitely be Owen Grant. Owen Grant was burly and robust, but in fact, he was about the same age as Eric Bennett. However, having already reached the “Nine Palaces” realm, Owen Grant had long since become one of the head wardens, a position that a “good-for-nothing” like Eric Bennett could never compare to.

　　No one knew why Owen Grant had ended up in Ruolu Prison. When he first arrived, he was skin and bones, filthy like a little monkey. None of the other children wanted to play with him—only Eric Bennett treated him with genuine kindness, perhaps because they shared the same misfortune.

　　When they were seven, the two went out to play together. On the way, Owen Grant was stung by a venomous bee and fell unconscious. Eric Bennett stubbornly carried Owen Grant on his back, trekking dozens of miles through the mountains to return to Ruolu Prison, where he knelt and begged the elders to save Owen Grant.

　　Logan Harris examined him and, smiling, told Eric Bennett not to worry—Owen Grant had found fortune in misfortune. It turned out the bee was a rare spiritual insect, a “True Spirit Bee.” Though its venom was potent, at the moment it stung, all its essence was injected into the victim’s body. As long as one could withstand the poison, the bee’s essence would nourish the body and greatly aid cultivation.

　　Owen Grant, frail and only seven years old, managed to endure the poison. After waking, his progress was unstoppable—not only did he grow stronger by the day, but his cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds. He soon stood out among his peers, rising from servant to warden, and from warden to head of the wardens.

　　Although Eric Bennett wasn’t exactly Owen Grant’s savior, the fact that Eric Bennett carried him for dozens of miles, battered and bleeding, was a kindness Owen Grant never forgot. Over the years, if not for the protection of the fierce Owen Grant, Eric Bennett might not have survived to this day.

　　Eric Bennett returned from the Abyss of the Departed unharmed, and even claimed he could go down again for everyone. Even if some still doubted, their gazes toward Eric Bennett had changed somewhat. At the very least, no one would dare provoke Eric Bennett now.

　　But this didn’t truly change anything. At best, Eric Bennett had gone from being a useless simpleton to a useful one. In their eyes, Eric Bennett was still a waste who couldn’t cultivate. In the world of cultivation, being unable to cultivate meant everything was for naught—no matter how useful, he was just a tool to be used.

　　Neither Eric Bennett nor Owen Grant were the type to easily show their feelings. Owen Grant had thought Eric Bennett was dead and had rampaged through Ruolu Prison in his grief, disregarding everything. Now that Eric Bennett was safe and sound, he merely uttered a few words of praise and said no more. After escorting Eric Bennett back to his quarters, Owen Grant nodded, blood-red chains coiled at his waist, a heavy meteoric iron sword slung over his shoulder, his footsteps thundering as he strode away.

　　Eric Bennett returned to his room, closed the doors and windows, and sat by the table to catch his breath.

　　Ruolu Prison was vast beyond measure—even the lowest servants had a room of their own.

　　This trip to the Abyss of the Departed had its gains and losses, full of twists and turns. Even Eric Bennett, thinking back, couldn’t help but shake his head and sigh.

The “Vastness Scripture” was now impossible to cultivate, and with Eric Bennett’s current status, he couldn’t hope to find a text of equal standing within the orthodox sects.

　　Given that, Eric Bennett could only lower his sights and look for those well-known, basic foundational texts.

　　Eric Bennett also understood that insisting on finding a scripture on the level of the “Vastness Scripture” was a bit too stubborn. In fact, with his experience of two lifetimes—especially having been the Emperor of the Southern Wastes in his previous life—his understanding of cultivation texts far surpassed others. Even with ordinary texts, his cultivation would yield twice the results with half the effort.

　　In fact, there was a foundational text in Ruolu Prison that was the most widely circulated among the orthodox cultivation world, called the “Dao Canon.” It was inscribed behind the main gate of Ruolu Prison, available for all to study.

　　In the past, a great sage once gave the “Dao Canon” the highest praise, saying that even the most powerful cultivators could gain much from daily contemplation. Perhaps for this reason, someone had the “Dao Canon” inscribed on the main gate, though no one knew exactly when it was done.

　　Eric Bennett first checked the spoils from this trip to the Abyss of the Departed. That Destiny Talisman, which should have been extremely precious, still appeared utterly ordinary. He turned it over and over, but could find nothing special about it.

　　With such a low-grade Destiny Talisman, Eric Bennett dared not cultivate it lightly, for once chosen, it could not be changed.

　　As for the black wooden box, Eric Bennett didn’t bother to hide it carefully. It had taken him quite a while to notice its uniqueness, so no one else in Ruolu Prison would ever suspect it was a treasure. Thus, he simply left it on the table, which actually drew less suspicion.