"Don't fight, don't fight! Let's talk about it!" the fat servant cried, covering his head with both arms.
Xu Xiaolong halted mid-swing. "Fine. From today on, can I be the leader here?"
"Alright, you're the leader!" the fat servant answered without hesitation.
Seeing him surrender so easily, Xu Xiaolong relaxed and straightened. But as soon as he turned, the fat man jabbed a finger toward him, wanting to speak.
Before he could, Xu Xiaolong smashed his fist into the stone steps beside them. The solid slab shattered with a dull crack. "Still got something to say?"
The fat man's eyes went wide. He shook his head so fast it looked like his neck might snap. Xu Xiaolong's temper was too violent; there was no way he could fight him.
"You can keep managing the chores," Xu Xiaolong said flatly. "But don't bother me again, and I'll be living in your room from now on."
The fat man nodded like a pecking chicken, terrified the next punch might land on his head instead of the ground.
After that, life became easy for Xu Xiaolong. Zhang Dahu, the fat servant, took care of everything. Xu Xiaolong had his own room, clean clothes, and no one dared disturb him.
He'd even given Zhang Dahu a new nickname: Er Hu. "Since I'm the eldest, you'll be Second Tiger," he had declared, and Zhang Dahu, too frightened to refuse, could only grin and accept.
After two days of comfort, Xu Xiaolong's hands grew restless. He went to Er Hu to ask about practicing swordsmanship.
From Er Hu, he learned that weapons and manuals required Merit Points to exchange. Skills were in the Scripture Pavilion, weapons and treasures in the Treasure Pavilion, both located on Tianyun Peak, the sect's main summit.
He also learned that Verdant Bamboo Peak, where he now lived, was one of Tianyun Sect's seven peaks. Because it lacked enough servant disciples, Xu Xiaolong had been allowed to stay there.
In Tianyun Sect, every contribution earned points, meaning strength, effort, and task completion decided a disciple's worth.
The Miscellaneous Affairs Hall was quiet that morning. Xu Xiaolong strode into the Hall of Merits on Verdant Bamboo Peak with a single thought—take a task, finish it, earn points, exchange them for technique or a manual. That was the only path to the sword.
The disciples inside the hall fell silent when they saw a servant disciple approach the task board. Faces twisted with disbelief. A servant disciple picking up missions? Ridiculous. In Tianyun Sect, servant disciples were the lowliest leftovers with no qualifications. No one thought them fit for real work.
Xu Xiaolong pulled down several task lists with one hand, puffing his chest as if he owned the place.
"Stop! What are you doing?" a Disciplinary Disciple barked, stepping forward. His voice carried the weight of the hall.
"I accept the tasks. Why can't servant disciples take them?" Xu Xiaolong asked, looking straight at the enforcer. His tone was plain and blunt.
The Disciplinary Disciple faltered. He opened his mouth to reply but found no rule to support his claim—after all, the sect's rules said any disciple could accept tasks. He swallowed and hesitated.
Xu Xiaolong smiled and turned, his steps light. "So the servant disciples can take tasks," he said, as if confirming a small truth to himself.
"Boy, if you fail, this Disciplinary Disciple will deduct your points!" the enforcer shouted after him, voice cracking with anger and warning.
Someone near the counter muttered, low and quick, "Servant disciples don't usually get points." The comment was meant to caution, but it also carried a thread of respect strength earned grudging recognition.
"If you don't dare to finish it, I'll drag you to the Hall of Merits and skin you!" the Disciplinary Disciple roared as Xu Xiaolong left, fury flashing in his eyes. He had never seen such an arrogant servant disciple.
Xu Xiaolong only paused once, looking back before turning his head back to the task paper in his hand.
Holding the task list, Xu Xiaolong glanced over the details, then set off toward the wilderness behind Verdant Bamboo Peak. The terrain there was rough and forgotten, filled with wild herbs and prowling demonic beasts.
His task was simple: hunt beasts, gather medicinal plants, and return with what he found. For someone raised in the mountains, it was hardly difficult. Xu Xiaolong had hunted and killed second- and even third-tier beasts long before stepping into Tianyun Sect.
In the cultivation world, both men and beasts were ranked by their realms. The first was the Gathering Yuan Realm, followed by Condensing Yuan, True Yuan, Spirit Yuan, Heavenly Yuan, King Yuan, and Venerable Yuan Realm. Beasts followed the same measure; those above the second tier formed Beast Cores, condensed with raw energy, highly prized by cultivators.
Xu Xiaolong had yet to practice any Yuan Qi Sutra, but his body was forged through hardship and survival. His strength came from sinew and will, not spirit energy.
As he ventured deeper into the forest, the air grew damp and heavy. Between the ferns and stone roots, he began collecting herbs one by one.
Half a day later, he paused mid-step. A fishy, metallic scent drifted on the wind.
Xu Xiaolong's eyes narrowed. That smell—demonic beasts.
Looking upwind, Xu Xiaolong froze for a heartbeat.
From between the black pines came the low growls of a pack—sleek shadows slipping through the mist. A dozen, no, nearly twenty Black Demonic Wolves, their fur glinting faintly blue beneath the dim light.
Second-tier beasts.
Xu Xiaolong's pulse steadied instead of racing. Running was useless. He bent his knees, fists tightening until his knuckles popped.
The first wolf leapt. He met it head-on. His fist struck its skull with a dull, cracking thud; blood misted the air. Another lunged from the side—he twisted, elbowed it down, then pivoted into the next.
Growls became a chorus. He moved among them like a hammer through reeds, every strike short, fierce, and final.
One wolf sank its fangs into his sleeve; Xu Xiaolong tore free and smashed it to the ground, panting. "Come on then," he muttered, voice low and rough. "Let's finish it."
When the last cry died out, the clearing stank of blood and iron. More than twenty wolves lay scattered, and at their center, a larger one—their leader, a third-tier beast twitched once before falling still.
Xu Xiaolong wiped his forearm across his face, then pulled out the small hunting knife he'd carried from the mountains. One by one, he cut free the Beast Cores, each pulsing faintly with inner light.
Two days later, his cloth bags bulged with the spoils. They were so heavy he could barely sling them across his back. He glanced toward the distant peaks of Tianyun Sect, the night wind biting cold against his skin.
Cold or not, it meant nothing to him.
By the time Xu Xiaolong returned to Tianyun Sect, dawn had already broken. The first rays of sunlight painted the peaks in gold, but his mood was mixed—he'd missed breakfast, and his stomach growled in protest. Still, the heavy bags at his back filled him with excitement. The spoils from the hunt would earn him a good pile of points, maybe enough to edge closer to learning sword skills.
The Hall of Merits was busy when he arrived. Disciples came and went, lining up to report their missions or collect new ones.
As soon as Xu Xiaolong stepped in, a foul stench spread through the air. The crowd parted, wrinkling their noses. He was covered from head to toe in dried blood. While others fought elegantly with swords, he used fists—his clothes bore the price of that choice.
"You little bastard, what are you doing? You still dare to come here?" A Disciplinary Disciple flashed forward, his hand reaching for Xu Xiaolong's throat. He recognized the boy immediately.
"What am I doing?" "What are you doing?" Xu Xiaolong spat, grabbing the man's wrist before it could close around his neck. "Let's talk first, I came to hand over the task!"
The enforcer froze, startled. "Hand over the task?"
"Of course." Xu Xiaolong strode to the counter, dropped his heavy bundles, and pulled down several completed task slips from the board, those for Beast Cores and medicinal herbs. Then, without flinching, he set the bloody trophies before the registrar.
The air grew quiet. The Disciplinary Disciple glanced between the evidence and the battered youth, slowly beginning to record the results.
When it was done, he asked, "Your name and origin? I'll make your scorecard."
"Xu Xiaolong," the youth said proudly, puffing his chest. "Servant disciple of Verdant Bamboo Peak."
A murmur rippled through the hall. No one expected a servant to earn points on his first task.
The Disciplinary Disciple finished tallying the numbers and carved out a score card with Xu Xiaolong's name upon it. From that moment, he was officially registered in the Hall of Merits.
"Can these points be used to exchange for techniques?" Xu Xiaolong asked.
"Each technique or manual costs a different amount," the enforcer replied. His tone had softened now, respectful even. "You can go to the Scripture Pavilion to take a look—but remember, just to enter costs twenty points."
In this world, strength spoke louder than titles. The man's earlier disdain was gone, replaced by a trace of wary regard.
Xu Xiaolong clasped his fists. "Then I'll go take a look."
"Change your clothes first," the enforcer added with a frown. "Walk in there like that, and someone will beat you out before I can stop them."
Xu Xiaolong chuckled, nodded, and left the hall. He returned to the Miscellaneous Affairs Hall, changed into a fresh robe, tucked the new score card into his sleeve, and set out toward Tianyun Peak.
He moved quickly, heart thrumming with quiet expectation. Somewhere behind those ancient doors lay his path forward—techniques, manuals, maybe even the first step toward true cultivation.
But reality was cold.
When he reached the Scripture Pavilion, two gate disciples crossed their spears before him.
It wasn't because of what he wore, or how he looked—it was because a servant disciple had no status.