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"Dear sir, I beg of you, please take me in! My clan was once extremely wealthy, but we were framed by a wicked evil. They murdered all three hundred of my clan members! My sister and I were the only ones to narrowly escape death, and we have been alone and helpless ever since… until I learned about the admirable stories of the Qing-Yun Sect! We have begged and suffered to reach your doorsteps. I beg you, sir, please show mercy! I will prove my worth if you take me in…."
In the almighty Chufung Kingdom of the South Jambu Continent, standing over one of the world's nine great spirit veins was the Qing-Yun Sect. There were currently hundreds and thousands of youths lined up, all eagerly waiting to be questioned by a plump Daoist. At the front of the line was a young boy around the age of ten covered in dirt and tears, but his watery eyes shone brightly through the mud on his face even as he cried and pleaded.
"Do you have a recommendation letter?" the plump Daoist impatiently asked.
"No…" the boy answered, embarrassed.
"How about any jewels?"
"No…."
"What about any special innate powers or talents?"
"No…."
"No letter means you're insignificant, no jewels mean you're poor, and no talent… then that means you're just worthless." The questioning look lasted only a few seconds before the furious Daoist kicked the boy down a few flights of stairs. "What is a pitiful loser like you doing here? How dare you even want to learn from the great Qing-Yun Sect? This is not a charity, scram!"
Laughter erupted out from those who were lined up behind the boy, and everyone who laughed held the same thought in their mind: 'He has nothing yet wants to join the Qing-Yun Sect? What a joke!' The Qing-Yun Sect had rich roots dating back over three thousand years ago and held an irreplaceable position in the Chufung Kingdom, after all, and any one of its inner court disciples were capable of easily taking down a martial arts master.
A recent example included a group of bandits living in the northwest part of the kingdom who were so ruthless and cunning that even the local officials had been unable to do anything about them. At least, this had been the case until Xiao Jianming—a core disciple of Qing-Yun Sect's inner court—heard of their evil deeds. With just himself and his sword, he infiltrated the bandit headquarters and killed nine of the ten bandits, with only the tenth and youngest bandit somehow managing to escape. This was naturally great news to the villagers and local officials, and Xiao Jianming became both a celebrity and a hero to the people of Chufung overnight.
It was thanks to this event that the Qing-Yun Sect had become a household name within the kingdom. Coincidentally, this year also held the sect's recruitment ceremony, which took place only once every ten years. Affluent families did whatever they could—whether through bribery or through connections—to send their children into the sect so they could have a chance to learn the mysteries of
Yet this boy—empty-handed, dressed in dirty rags, and with nothing to offer—wanted the same as these families who'd spent a fortune? Such wishful thinking.
After receiving the Daoist's kick, the boy quietly dusted himself off, stood up, and walked briskly back to about one hundred feet away away. Only then did he scream at the top of his lungs, "How dare you kick me! You freakish fat pig with pus running out of your smelly feet and hemorrhoids probably growing out of that stupid thing of yours you call a head! Oh, and your face is like a cow's! How dare you call me worthless! You should be thankful I'm even considering joining your sect! You will regret this; you've failed to recognize someone of such great importance, and when I come back to burn your pitiful monastery down...."
"You son of a—! How dare you insult me!" The infuriated plump Daoist grabbed his long sword without a second thought and gave chase, but the man couldn't even touch the boy who was swiftly zigzagged between those waiting in line. Without much success, the Daoist soon gave up and began to break into loud curses while catching his breath.
The supposedly solemn and sacred recruitment ceremony of the Qing-Yun Sect was soon filled with laughter and chatter as the cat-and-mouse style chase played out.
"You should be thankful I wanted to join your sect, you know! You'd better let me in, or else when I join a different sect and master Qi"—the boy laughed and complacently yelled towards the Daoist—"I'll beat the hell out of you until you wet your pants and cry for your mommy!"
"Someone… if someone..." as the Daoist tried to regain his breath, he thought of a plan, "if someone can catch him, they can skip the line! I will register them straight away!"
The boy grew anxious upon hearing this and prepared to flee.
Everyone else, however, had a different idea. Especially since the line on this narrow path had thousands of people, skipping the line would save literal hours of waiting, and now the plump Daoist was offering them the opportunity to skip ahead just for taking down a small child. There were also others who considered this an opportunity to get on the Daoist's good side, as well; if there was any chance they'd become a disciple of the Qing-Yun Sect, having a
Although the boy had been able to escape the hands of many men who were almost twice as old as he was, he was unable to escape a pale-faced man whose body was so thin he seemed ill. He was strong though, and he easily grabbed the boy by the clothes' collar before questioning him coldly, "So you know a bit of martial arts, huh?"
The boy tried to get away, but there was no way to escape the man's tight grip.
"Thank you, Brother! What is your name?" The plump Daoist panted as he ran up to the man.
"Please call me Hou Qing," the man spoke with politeness, hoping to please the plump Daoist, "and please don't mention it; I was just helping Shixiong in catching this little monkey."
"Of course, yes, yes, as soon as I teach this monkey a lesson, I will take you to do the registration." The Daoist smiled, turning to the boy with a smirk while rubbing his fat knuckles. "I am an outer court disciple of the Qing-Yun Sect. How dare you curse at me? Even if you're not going to die by my hand today, you're not leaving until you pay for what you said."
As a disciple of such a well-known sect, the plump Daoist did not dare to threaten the life of even this beggar boy. At most, he'd only give a few punches and slaps to teach a lesson.
A little girl suddenly jumped out in front of the boy, arms spread in an attempt to protect him. "P— please don't hurt my young master…." The girl was as dirty as the boy was, and her thin stature looked especially weak compared to the plump Daoist in front of her. She was just about six or seven years old, and not even the dirt and mud on her face could cover her beautiful features, particularly her bright eyes that seemed to contain a hint of emerald. Her ears were also slightly pointed—like that of a fox—which marked her as a Mahn.
"What are you doing! Stupid Xiao Mahn, didn't I tell you to stay out of trouble?" the boy scolded.
"But Young Master, if… if I don't come out to stop them, they'll hit you!" the Mahn girl stubbornly said, spreading her frail arms out even wider.
"Your master is more powerful than you think! Who do you think you are! Go away, now!" the boy yelled at the Mahn girl while still dangling in the air, making for a rather awkward display.
"Say wha—? Such a beggar like you has a Mahn for a slave?" the plump Daoist interrupted. He spoke as though he'd been starved for days and stared at the little girl in front of him with a voracious hunger.
Mahn—or Mahn people—were the offspring of a human parent and a beast parent, and were deemed the lowliest of the tribes. The beast tribes believed the Mahn weren't powerful enough because of the weak human blood running through their veins, while the human tribes feared their bestial features and tendencies. Over time, though, Mahn had become domesticated pets, slaves, and even concubines to their human masters, and despite their lowly status, only the humans with huge power or wealth were able to afford one. The boy had neither power nor wealth, making this situation bizarre.
"Shut up, you lowly creature." The pale-faced man gave the girl a kick from behind, sending her flying.
"You bastard! How dare you kick my Xiao Mahn!" The kick enraged the boy and he began to squirm even more fiercely, trying to escape the man to no avail. "I'm going to kill you!"
The kick sent the Mahn girl headfirst into a tree over a hundred feet away, and although the pale-faced man hadn't sought to kill her with the blow, he'd still knocked her unconscious and caused her face to stain with blood.
No one dared to speak a word. It was just an insignificant Mahn girl, after all, and Mahn were nothing more than slaves; even if the man killed her outright in front of their eyes, no one would have said anything against it.
Realizing that he'd probably gone too far, the pale-faced man showed a self-conscious smile. "Sorry that I probably kicked her too hard, I… I just hate Mahn so much…" he apologized to the Daoist.
"It— it's okay," the Daoist stuttered, raising his guard towards this man named Hou Qing. Even the plump Daoist felt that kick was unnecessary and somewhat cruel.
The boy had been screaming and kicking all along, but no one paid any further attention to him now that the unconscious Mahn girl had quickly drawn their eyes.
"Look at her blood…. Isn't that…?"
As the girl's blood slowly drew downward, the weeds it came into contact with that had once been dried out from the winter were revitalized. The supposedly dead weeds were revived and grew at such a great speed it could even be seen with the naked eye.
"Wood element? This girl has the rare wood-element bloodline!" someone from the crowd shouted, causing all eyes to immediately draw to her. Some were excited at such a sight, others were envious of her luck, and many more looked on in jealousy.
Elemental bloodlines were a rare innate power given to those blessed upon birth. There were five main elements: metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. The one the Mahn girl possessed was that of wood, a gentle and nurturing power that heals the earth and its vegetation. Such powers were sought after by all sects and powers.
The treatment shown towards the boy and girl became noticeably different once her powers were revealed.
You could have a recommendation letter, showing you were well-connected.
Or you could have jewels, showing you were wealthy and came from an affluent family.
Or you could have innate powers, and—even if you were penniless and had no connections—the sect would still take you in and nurture you to the best of their abilities.
The boy had none of these things and had made himself into a public laughingstock, yet his slave Mahn had such rare powers that she instantly qualified to be a disciple of the Qing-Yun Sect.
It was not long before the news reached the ears of someone of importance within the sect.
Within a mere hour, a beautiful white crane carrying a cold-faced female and two servant girls standing gracefully on either flank flew towards the Qing-Yun Sect's gates. All the hopeful youths stood and watched as the crane—clearly belonging to the cold-faced woman—elegantly flicked its wings into a descent, sending a gust of wind down the narrow pathway.
The plump Daoist quickly went down to his knees after seeing who the female was. "Oh… it is my pleasure to be at your service,
Although nobody else knew who she was, everyone else saw what the Daoist did and quickly fell to their knees to greet the female as "Shijie".
The female named Linyun ignored all of this, her gaze sweeping across everyone only to focus on the unconscious girl by the tree. She then walked towards the Mahn girl and brushed her fingertip along some of the girl's blood before holding it under her nose. With a nod and a heartfelt smile, she drew the girl into her arms and ordered, "Add this girl to the recruitment list!"
"Y— yes, of course, Shijie Linyun…." Despite the Mahn girl's lowly birth, she was now without a doubt a disciple of the Qing-Yun Sect. Under Shijie Linyun's orders, the Daoist did not dare to delay.
From the lowest Mahn to a Qing-Yun Sect disciple, the girl's life had turned completely upside down in just a matter of minutes. Jealousy and envy were written across almost everyone's faces, and even the boy had his mouth wide open in shock.
Linyun returned to the back of her crane with the Mahn girl resting in her arms. Still unconscious, the girl gently spoke, "Pl— please don't hurt my master, Fang Xing…."
Linyun's brow quirked. "Who's Fang Xing?"
The boy raised his hands as soon as he realized his named had been called. "I am! Give me back my slave!"
"Good. From today onward, she is no longer your slave." She looked at him coldly before throwing towards him a small, purple jade vase.
The Daoist widened his eyes as he saw what was inside it. "P— Purple Xiantian Pellet!"
Everyone else felt the same when they heard the name. This beggar boy and his good luck, the trade was just surreal! The pellet could influence the user's body to be more susceptible to drawing in Qi, and legends said that immortality could be bestowed upon a mortal soul with enough of them.
Red-eyed and hungry, the crowd looked at the vase with clear wildness. Many even began wondering how they could steal or rob the boy of his pellet.
The boy looked at the vase. He knew how precious the pellet was, but his awareness returned when Linyun was just about to leave with the Mahn girl in her arms. "Don't you dare leave! Did I say I would trade my slave for this stupid pellet yet? Nope, no deal! Take your smelly pellet away, and I demand that you leave her behind now!"
"Oh?" Linyun's cold, murderous gaze stabbed sharply into his eyes, sending shivers down Fang Xing's body. "I... I mean, I don't want any pellet, for a trade…" he stuttered, yet bravely continued, "On— only if you take me in as a disciple as well…."
The boy was not an ungrateful wretch after all. "In that case, add him too." Finally understanding what was going through the boy's head, Linyun smiled and continued disdainfully, "But… not only is his aptitude very ordinary, his temper also needs some tuning down. Having him help in the herb fields should do for now."
The plump Daoist nodded. "Yes, yes, understood."
This is currently an ongoing translation, receiving regular updates every Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday between approximately 10:00am and 6:00pm EST.
The Qing-Yun Sect had over three thousand years of historical legacy and was one of the most respected sects in the Chufung Kingdom. Within all of the kingdom—or even the entire South Jambu Continent—even the lowest-ranked disciple of the Qing-Yun Sect was viewed by the ordinary people with a holy reverence, for they were more powerful than any local gangs or factions.
Perhaps the most famous story of them all was how its core disciple—Xiao Jianming—had single-handedly managed to infiltrate Guiyan Valley’s infamous bandit group three months ago, successfully kill nine out of the ten bandits, and leave their heads hanging at the entrance to the valley. However, while everyone else had celebrated, Xiao Jianming did not; he was determined to find the tenth bandit who’d escaped, and he’d been searching all of Mount Yandang ever since.
It was said that the tenth bandit was also the most mysterious of them all and that no one had even verified his existence, but Xiao Jianming believed he would find him—he had sworn to do so, so he must. What he didn’t know, however, was that just under three months ago, the tenth bandit had already joined the Qing-Yun Sect and become one of his new
If one considered a
Although the Qing-Yun Sect had its recruitment ceremony to find talented disciples only once every ten years, daotongs were recruited throughout the year. Daotongs were still considered a part of the Qing-Yun Sect, but there was a sharp contrast between them and an actual disciple, and daotongs received neither formal teachings from the elders nor Spirit Stones as rewards for their hard work and contribution. Not only were there over ten thousand daotongs in the sect, they were usually assigned to mundane tasks such as cleaning, cooking, and farming, with only one day off for each month.
All of this just for a thin manual titled "Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation".
After Shijie Linyun had taken off with Xiao Mahn, the plump Daoist brought Fang Xing to a wooden cabin. Inside the cabin sat a man with a distinctively large mole on his face, seemingly around his late teens. The Daoist gave a grim smile before passing Fang Xing a set of cyan-colored robes, a thin booklet, and a small woodblock engraved with his name.
Once the plump Daoist had left the cabin, Fang Xing looked around the room while the man with the mole spoke to him unwelcomingly, "Aren’t you a lucky little one? If it weren’t for Shijie Linyun, someone like you? Hah!" he laughed in disdain. "With no connections, no money, and no innate powers, you can only start from the bottom. Take this Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation and study it well. Not just anyone can have the opportunity to read this, you know! When you’ve mastered the first level, you can become one of the outer court disciples."
There were also a few other boys in the room and—although none were much older than Fang Xing—they all had their arms crossed and pretended to be much older than they actually were.
"So which tier are you in?" Fang Xing asked.
The mole-faced man pointed his thumb to himself with pride. "I have already felt the movement of Qi. Nobody else here has accomplished anything!"
"And how many years have you all been here?" Fang Xing questioned again, thoughtful.
"I’ve been here for six years! They’ve been here for at least three now," the mole-faced man answered proudly.
"Dammit, so that woman lied to me!" Fang Xing released a loud sigh and threw the manual aside.
"What woman?" the mole-faced man asked, curious.
"Who else? That woman named Linyun! She said she’d take me into the Qing-Yun Sect… but I’m not here to be a worker! And all I get is a stupid booklet!" Fang Xing continued while clutching his fists. "Look at all of you! Six years, three years, and what have you achieved? That lying bi*ch…."
"Shijie Linyun?" Shocked by Fang Xing’s words, the furious mole-faced man reached for Fang Xing’s collar and spoke in a hushed manner, "Shut up, you little brat! Do you know how much trouble we’ll all get into if someone hears about what you just said? Remember this: you’re here in my herb field. If I tell you to go east, you don’t go west. If I tell you to jump, you ask me how high and don’t question it. Do you understand?"
"That’s right! You’ll also need to clean the stools and fill the tank with fresh water every day!" a boy with freckles—likely the person normally in charge of such chores—excitedly agreed.
"Hah! And the laundry, too! This is always done by the newcomer!" The motive of whoever demanded this went without saying—he must have been doing the laundry for quite a while now.
Fang Xing looked to everyone present before nodding to himself, as though just realizing something. "So you’re all just bullying me?"
"Yeah. And?" The mole-faced man grinned before slamming his arm savagely against a nearby table, showing off the blue veins of his muscular arm. "What are you gonna do?"
"Don’t you dare hit me! I… I can scream…." Fang Xing appeared frightened, as though he would scream for help if someone so much as touched him with a single finger.
Seeing this, the mole-faced man gave a laugh. "Don’t you worry about that! I won’t touch you now, but once the night falls and we’ve shut our doors… there’ll be just you and all of us. No one will be able to hear you, even if you scream at the top of your lungs…."
"That’s right! The shixiongs from the Herb Department only come to check on us once every three months, and it’s all up to us when they’re not here! No one, not even the regulation shixiongs will be able to help you," the boy with freckles on his face threatened. "They’ll be way too busy to care about you. And if you didn’t know, as a daotong, you won’t be able to leave for at least another ten years…." It seemed as though this was his first time threatening someone, and he sounded almost too excited to stop.
"My dear brothers, please don’t hurt me. I’m a good person! I’ll do whatever you say…" Fang Xing suddenly began to pitifully beg.
"Hah, thought so," the mole-faced man laughed, clearly experienced with people like this.
The herb field was not only vast, but also magical. Even at the closure of autumn, the garden was still filled with different shades of green, reinforcing just how abundant and wealthy the Qing-Yun Sect was.
On the next day, Fang Xing went straight to work at the field, voluntarily taking on the hardest and dirtiest of the jobs. The field was spread across three miles, yet the entire area had to be maintained by only the six of them. The freckled boy responsibly taught Fang Xing how to water, weed, fertilize, and control the pests—flowers such as the "Qinrui" could only be watered during the sunset hours, the herb called "Moling" had to be watered at the first crack of dawn right before the dewdrops disappear….
Fang Xing caught on quick and was extremely polite and friendly throughout the whole day. By dusk, he’d even drawn some water to soak everyone’s dirty clothes so they could be washed after dinner and dried overnight. Everyone was extremely satisfied with his attitude and promised they would all share their experiences and understandings of cultivation with him. By nightfall, the herb field rested quietly as everyone fell asleep.
Everyone except for Fang Xing, that is.
Sitting on his bed, Fang Xing fiddled with a sharp dagger he’d just taken out from the cloth-wrapped bundle containing everything he owned. The dagger had been a gift from his third uncle along with some gold leaves he’d used to buy Xiao Mahn before arriving at the sect. His third uncle had also taught him a set of cunning martial arts to be used with the dagger for close-range combat.
Other than that, there was a cute tiger plushie given to him by his first uncle; some medicine from his second uncle; his fourth uncle’s snuff bottle that could release a thick smog; a hidden weapon that released silver needles from his fifth uncle; his sixth uncle’s… treasured collection of
Fang Xing stared blankly at all that remained of his uncles… until—clearing his head of all thoughts—he packed up the bundle and placed it safely aside.
Stealthily, with his dagger clutched in his hand, he drew close to the bed where the mole-faced man was still fast asleep. "Brother Wang, Brother Wang…" he whispered ever so softly into his ears.
It took Fang Xing quite some effort before the man woke up. "What the hell are you doing in the middle of the night! Do you wanna die?" the man snapped, irritated.
"No, you will." Before Wang Zhi had time to react, Fang Xing stabbed the dagger right into the man’s body, pushing it all the way down to the handle.
The man let out an agonized scream—just one scream, and then it was nothing. Fang Xing had quickly covered the man’s mouth, preventing him from making another. Listening carefully, Wang Zhi’s earlier words were proven correct; the nearby area was vacant and nobody had overheard.
Wang Zhi wanted to flee, but couldn’t; the dagger was stabbed so deeply through him that it had practically stapled Wang Zhi to his bed. Pinned, he soon realized it was less painful if he just stayed still and remained quiet.
Fang Xing didn’t want to cause a large disturbance, but he’d made sure those he wanted to hear had heard. It didn’t take too long before everyone in the room realized just what had happened, and the freckle-faced boy let out a sharp shriek in terror.
"If you don’t want to die, shut the hell up!" Fang Xing muttered in a deep tone unnatural for his barely ten-year-old appearance. The freckled boy was a couple years older, but he was so shaken that a sudden warm rush trickled down between his legs.
Fang Xing slowly withdrew the dagger, and the second it was pulled free, Wang Zhi curled up like a shrimp from the pain. Everyone else froze as Fang Xing walked towards them on the other side of the room, and the timid freckled boy was even hiding beneath his blankets while sobbing uncontrollably to himself.
"How dare you all try to have a go at me? No one ever bullies me, you hear?" Fang Xing swayed the dagger in front of everyone before continuing, "Only I get to bully all of you! And, just to make it clear, I’m your new boss. All of you are now in my herb field; if I tell you to go east, you don’t go west. If I tell you to jump, you ask how me how high and don’t question it. If anyone decides to get their own ideas… well, my dagger doesn’t discriminate, and you know, if my hands slip….
"Do you even know who my sister is?" Fang Xing showed a proud smile. "She’s a current favorite of Shijie Linyun, and I have her protection! You guys are as blind as a bat!"
"Fang Xing…."
"What did you just call me?"
"I mean… Boss Fang Xing! Boss… I think we should probably bandage Shixiong Wang. He might really die…."
Fang Xing glanced over to Wang Zhi—who was still shriveled up on the corner of the bed, by now exhausted and seemingly passed out—before smirking. "He won’t die. My third uncle said as long as I have the dagger enter him through these
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