Chen Mo’s eyes scanned the table. A neatly folded uniform rested there: a plain gray robe, nondescript, with no emblem—clearly a standard issue for menial disciples. Beside it lay a small booklet, its cover worn but orderly.

  He picked it up, opened it, and began to read.

  Azure Pine Nourishing Art—the title alone hinted at the sect’s characteristic precision and conservatism. The booklet outlined the basic neutral cultivation method of the Azure Pine Immortal Sect, designed to forge a stable and enduring foundation. Through slow, rhythmic breathing and gentle circulation of qi, the practitioner was taught to widen the meridians, filter incoming spiritual energy, and steadily condense it in the lower dantian.

  The qi produced was described as pure, calm, and remarkably stable. It minimized the risk of deviation, ensuring smooth and uninterrupted progress. The text noted that, though it lacked explosive combat power, it allowed a disciple to safely cultivate up to the ninth stage of Qi Condensation. In doing so, the practitioner would form a deep and solid foundation—an indispensable base for future breakthroughs.

  Chen Mo’s lips twitched slightly. Safe and reliable, slow but sturdy… Exactly what a five-attribute spiritual root would need.

  He folded the booklet back neatly, setting it aside beside the robe. Even from the simplicity of the text, he could feel the Azure Pine Sect’s philosophy: endurance, patience, and meticulous accumulation.

  For someone like him, it was… tolerable. Perhaps even advantageous.

  Chen Mo didn’t waste a single moment. This was his first immortal cultivation method, and his eagerness to try it—and more importantly, to combine it with the mysterious panel—burned hot. He memorized the steps quickly, then sat cross-legged, eyes closed, and began attempting to sense the spiritual qi drifting subtly in the air.

  Hours passed in silence, the only sound being the soft rustle of the trees outside. When Chen Mo finally opened his eyes, a long, exasperated sigh escaped him. So this is what they call a “basic-building” technique… he muttered inwardly. It was slow, methodical, and utterly unrewarding to someone used to tyrannical power, and it made him painfully aware that his spiritual root—or lack thereof—was indeed subpar.

  He leaned back, shoulders tense, and decided to rest. Tomorrow, he would seek out Old Zhu and clarify a few points, but for now, even patience had its limits.

  The next morning, Chen Mo arrived at the work area just as dawn painted the sky in pale gold. Old Zhu was busy assigning menial chores to the new recruits, moving briskly from one to another. When his eyes fell on Chen Mo, he paused and asked without preamble:

  “Can you handle heavy lifting?”

  Chen Mo gave a curt nod.

  Old Zhu gestured toward a long wooden pole with two massive buckets tied to its ends. “Alright. Your assignment is to fill the water vats.”

  Chen Mo let out a quiet sigh inwardly. An Innate expert, fetching water for a bunch of immortals… he muttered, gripping the pole. As he passed the towering vats, he grimaced. Wait, am I supposed to walk back and forth from the river all day…?

  Without hesitation, he strode to one of the vats, lifted it with ease, and carried it as if it weighed nothing.

  Old Zhu, watching from a distance, almost jumped in shock. “Young Chen! You really have skill… your Body Refining cultivation is far beyond what I expected!”

  Chen Mo shrugged. “I thought it’d be faster to move the vats directly, rather than ferry water back and forth.”

  Old Zhu chuckled, shaking his head. “I truly underestimated you. Most people here have only shallow Body Refining; they wouldn’t be able to do what you just did.”

  Chen Mo’s curiosity piqued. “And why is that? I thought Body Refining would be common in the Immortal Realm.”

  “Well,” Old Zhu said, a wry smile forming, “it exists, but who has the patience to walk a severed path? The most prominent Body Refining techniques are monopolized by the Golden Pillars Immortal Sect. Everything else comes from the mortal world—if you push them to the peak, you might only match a 4th or 5th level Qi cultivator. So, most people don’t bother.”

  Chen Mo’s mind churned. Perhaps he’d overlooked something crucial—but then again, his Primordial Body Art was by no means ordinary, he still likely had the edge.

  After a brief conversation with Old Zhu, Chen Mo dashed toward the river, intent on finishing his chores quickly. He wanted not only to complete them efficiently but also to carve out precious time for questions—and, most importantly, to cultivate.

  Chen Mo wasted no time finishing his chores. As he strode past the other menial disciples, hoisting the brimming, massive vats with ease, it became a spectacle that left everyone dumbfounded. Even those with ill intentions—perhaps looking for a weak target to bully—paused and quickly abandoned any thought of testing this newly recruited powerhouse. To them, he was no mere disciple; he was a walking mountain.

  Old Zhu’s eyes widened slightly as he observed Chen Mo, again surprised at how efficiently the young man had completed his chores. It seemed this brute could handle himself exceptionally well among the menial disciples. Just yesterday, Zhu had been preparing to meditate nearby, a precautionary measure for any disciple who might be bullied, with the ulterior motive of gaining leverage and favor—his standard policy with all new recruits. After all, who knew which of them might one day rise to the outer sect and bring him benefits? But now, it appeared that plan had been rendered useless.

  Chen Mo approached, bowing slightly. “Old Zhu, may I ask you a few questions?”

  Zhu smiled warmly. “Of course, young Chen. Ask anything.”

  “It’s about the Pine Nourishing Art,” Chen Mo began.

  “Oh, you’ll get used to it,” Old Zhu replied. “With a five-element spiritual root, it’s normal to struggle at first. But if you’re diligent, you’ll start sensing spiritual qi in a few months.”

  Chen Mo’s eyes narrowed. “A few months?”

  Zhu chuckled. “What, do you think you can master it in a few days?”

  “Please excuse my ignorance, Old Zhu,” Chen Mo said humbly. “I come from a mortal kingdom and have no prior sense of these matters.”

  Zhu nodded knowingly. “That makes sense. Spiritual root is everything for a cultivator. The more attributes you have, the slower your body draws in the spiritual qi of Heaven and Earth. Prodigies blessed with dual-element spiritual roots can sense it in just a few days, at most a week.”

  Chen Mo tilted his head. “And the others?”

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  “The single-element spiritual root,” Old Zhu said, his voice low with a hint of awe, “is the rarest and most prominent. I’ve heard we only have two such individuals in our sect…”

  Chen Mo returned to his modest room, sinking into the rhythm of his new life—wake early, perform the assigned chores, eat, cultivate, and rest. He accepted it, though grudgingly. His mood was sour, and he made no effort to forge connections with the disciples around him.

  A week passed. That night, after six hours of continuous cultivation, Chen Mo opened his eyes, lost in thought. He wasn’t worried about Li Yuxue—her potential revenge or schemes could hardly reach him here within the sect. Over the past week, he had spoken with Old Zhu enough to draw clear conclusions: with his innate realm honed by the Primordial Body Art, those in the early stage of Qi Condensation posed no threat at all. Even middle-stage cultivators were no match, though those wielding talismans or spiritual weapons could at least dodge or escape his fists. Late-stage Qi Condensation cultivators remained dangerous in long-range combat; their spiritual senses were refined enough to deploy multiple talismans and spells simultaneously, their techniques far more potent. But in close quarters, Chen Mo was confident he could annihilate any of them.

  The real problem lay ahead. Even if he reached the late Qi Condensation stage, what then? Would he even be able to join the Inner Sect? And if he did, would he ever pledge true allegiance? He knew he could not—he answered to no one but himself.

  Pretending loyalty would not secure entry either. The Inner Sect was selective, guarded by layers of scrutiny, surveillance, and bizarre divination methods capable of exposing hidden intent. Specialized formations could detect even the faintest anomaly. The path forward was effectively sealed.

  For Chen Mo, the realization was clear: staying here any longer had become unnecessary.

  Chen Mo frowned, pondering Old Zhu’s words. Leaving the sect wasn’t as simple as it seemed—he couldn’t risk becoming a fugitive again, this time pursued by a behemoth like the Azure Pine Immortal Sect. After a moment’s thought, he resolved to rest and bring up the matter with Old Zhu the following day.

  At dawn, after completing his morning chores, Chen Mo approached Old Zhu with a polite cupped-hand salute.

  Old Zhu’s eyes brightened with approval. “Ah, young Chen, your efficiency continues to impress. It’s a shame you possess a five-element spiritual root—otherwise, with your diligence, there’s no telling how far you could have gone.”

  Chen Mo smiled faintly, his tone measured. “You are correct, Old Zhu. I’ve ceased cultivating in earnest. I no longer see the Immortal Path as my own.”

  Old Zhu’s brow arched in surprise. “Ceased?! Young Chen, you know that without reaching the fourth level of Qi Condensation, you cannot even qualify for the Outer Sect!”

  Chen Mo shrugged lightly. “Even if I reach it, it will take years. By then, even if I join the Outer Sect, I’ll be looked down upon, assigned to gather resources, undertake perilous tasks… I might even die trying.”

  Old Zhu let out a long, quiet sigh. He understood all too well. He himself had once achieved the fourth level of Qi Condensation and gained entry to the Outer Sect, only to find the path ahead blocked. In the end, he returned to the Menial Disciples’ courtyard, maintaining the appearance of responsibility—a position widely regarded as insignificant.

  “Perhaps you are right,” Old Zhu murmured. “The Immortal Path is not for everyone. Without heaven’s blessing, defying it is futile.”

  Chen Mo’s eyes darkened slightly, thoughtful. “I wonder, Old Zhu… could I simply leave and return to the mortal world? Live there in peace?”

  Old Zhu studied him carefully. “With your abilities, returning to the mortal world is feasible. But who would dare—or be able—to take you there?”

  Chen Mo’s lips curved in a faint smirk. “Could I join a caravan, perhaps?”

  Old Zhu nodded slowly. “To a nearby city? That is possible. You arrived here only a week ago, and the sect does not restrict menial disciples from leaving. But to return to the place you came from… that is impossible. The distance alone is unimaginable, and the journey is rife with danger.”

  Chen Mo’s expression hardened. “The nearest city will suffice.”

  Old Zhu’s tone grew grave. “I can arrange that. But heed my warning—the world beyond these walls is far from peaceful. Rogue cultivators and demonic practitioners roam freely. Even within the cities, mortal lives are cheap. One misstep, one careless glance, and death could follow.”

  Chen Mo’s lips twitched in quiet exasperation, and he thought bitterly: Isn’t that just the way of this wretched world?

  A few days later, Old Zhu arranged for Chen Mo to board a caravan bound for the nearest city. This caravan specialized in transporting mortal goods and provisions, staffed primarily by servants and menial disciples. Its purpose was simple: to serve the needs of ordinary mortals and lower-tier cultivators, those who, despite their early-stage Qi Condensation, still relied on basic spells for farming, had strengthened bodies courtesy of spiritual qi, yet remained tethered to mundane needs like meals and family visits.

  Chen Mo took his place in one of the carts designated for servants. The guide informed him that the journey would last three days. He paid no mind to the slow pace—the point was that he was leaving the Azure Pine Immortal Sect without fanfare, without the need for a dramatic escape. For the first time in a long while, he felt a faint sense of relief at the quiet simplicity of it.

  Three days later, the caravan arrived at Fenglin City—one of the many urban centers and marketplaces under the supervision of the Azure Pine Immortal Sect. A Foundation Establishment of the sect oversaw the city, ensuring order and maintaining the balance between mortals and cultivators.

  Though mortals and cultivators coexisted here, the disparity in status was stark. Unless one belonged to an immortal family or had at least one family member who was a cultivator, life was cheap and opportunities scarce. Cultivators rarely interfered with mortal affairs and generally ignored them—but accidents, whether from carelessness or conflict, could occur, leaving mortals at the mercy of forces far beyond their control.

  Chen Mo stepped down from the cart and joined the long queue of mortals entering Fenglin City. The crowd was a mix of merchants, laborers, and townsfolk, all without cultivation. Cultivators, by contrast, passed through effortlessly after showing their identification tokens, leaving Chen Mo to fume quietly at the tedium.

  The frustration that had been simmering for the past ten days—since he began his cultivation yet remained unable to sense spiritual qi—threatened to boil over. He took a deep breath, forcing calm into his thoughts. Patience is required, he reminded himself. First gather information, then let the plans follow.