Tens of thousands of daotongs were recruited each year to help maintain the two thousand acres of fields owned by the Qing-Yun Sect, and each of them received a Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation manual upon recruitment. They wouldn’t be given any teachings or assistance, but there was always one or two who would manage to cultivate traces of Qi through either their wits or simply sheer luck.

　　To the rest of the daotongs, these people were considered geniuses favored by the gods.

　　“My dear brothers, I’m off! Let’s drink again when I come back for a visit!”

　　In the early morning, Fang Xing had already packed his cloth-bundle and was saying his goodbyes to everyone at their C-Rank herb field.

　　All five of the daotongs—Wang Zhi, Freckle-Boy, Ghost-Face, Mousy, and Bowlegs—stood at the front of the wooden cabin in quiet admiration. It had been beyond their wildest imaginations that this child they once thought cruel beyond his years would become an outer court disciple, and all within a matter of months of his arrival.

　　They had seen how Fang Xing worked so hard in meditating and practicing the manual, but this was considered normal—a short-lived phase of enthusiasm. People would eventually accept their fate and give up on the fantasy of becoming a cultivator to settle down as an ordinary person. No one knew Fang Xing had already achieved the first tier of Spirit Stage until the night before, when he announced he would ring the Samsara Bell.

　　“Boss! I knew you weren’t some ordinary person like us! When you do become an outer court disciple… please don’t forget us, your brothers,” Wang Zhi said sincerely while struggling not to cry. Freckle-Boy, on the other hand, had already burst out into tears.

　　“Stop being such a crybaby! Your boss isn’t dying; I’m just getting a promotion for god’s sake! You dumbasses just remember what I told you last night about the weed. I worked hard on figuring this all out so you better keep it a secret, but as long as you do as I’ve told you, I’ll be your boss again when you come and join me in the outer court!”

　　All of them showed disbelief and hesitation when the Hwa’jin method was mentioned. “But it’s… well, the method you told us… it’s a bit… bizarre. We’ll remember it, though!”

　　Fang Xing smiled. He’d already told them everything he figured out about using energy from Jing to transform and guide Qi into the meridians and step into Spirit Stage; whether they believed it or not was up to them.

　　“Alright, my brothers, I’m off now! See all of you later!” After waving his hands, Fang Xing turned his back and walked towards the paved paths leading into the depths of the back mountain.

　　“Best wishes to you, Boss Fang Xing!” All of the boys had emotional expressions, each of them seeming saddened by Fang Xing’s departure. As Fang Xing’s silhouette disappeared into the distance, however, all of the daotongs straightened their backs in relief and wiped the tears from their eyes. They looked at each other, and a sigh rang out almost in unison.

　　“That monster is finally gone!”

　　“I haven’t had a good sleep in the past few months he’s been here….”

　　“Thank the heavens! Maybe our lives can finally go back to normal again….”

　　—

　　Completely unaware of what the daotongs were saying behind his back, Fang Xing walked along the path towards the back mountain of the sect. From here, it was also possible to appreciate just how vast the Qing-Yun Sect really was. Mystical fog cascaded slowly along the mountain, but a gentle blow of wind would cause the fog to disappear and beautiful temples to be revealed.

　　The fields only went as far as the foot of the mountain, while pine trees and stone stairs led up to the quaint pavilion at its peak. Inside was a large bronze bell covered in moss, and as Fang Xing approached the top of the pavilion, he saw a plaque:

　　Upon the bell’s toll

　　A life ends to start anew

　　Soar up high and far

　　“I wonder if this is it?” Fang Xing muttered to himself, walking up to the pavilion before gently stroking the moss-covered bell. “So this must be the Samsara Bell I need to ring in order to become an outer court disciple.”

　　As soon as Fang Xing confirmed it was the right place, he gave the bell a push.

　　Nothing.

　　Confused, Fang Xing concentrated on the bell and activated his Book of Revelation.

　　‘Samsara Bell. Low-grade spirit tool. Can only be activated through Qi. The sound of its ring extends over three miles….’

　　“I see how it is now. Qing-Yun and immortality, here I come! And Xiao Jianming, you better watch out; the tenth bandit of Guiyan Valley is finally here!” Taking a deep breath, Fang Xing circulated some Qi into his dantian before releasing it towards the bell all in one go.

　　HUUUUUUUM….

　　The bronze bell rang out with a low and deep sound, startling a flock of birds and causing them to fly off.

　　HUUUUUUUM….

　　HUUUUUUUM….

　　After three chimes, Fang Xing quietly stood to the side and patiently waited for someone to come and fetch him.

　　“The bell chimes again, has another daotong managed to cultivate Qi?”

　　“I wonder if it’s someone with really good talent or just another one with dumb luck.”

　　The bell could be heard across the Qing-Yun Sect. Naps were disturbed, some showed interest, others laughed in disdain, and others ignored it altogether to return to their sleep.

　　Within seconds, a silhouette could be seen flying towards the pavilion, belonging to a thin man with fair skin donning the cyan robes of the sect. His hair was neatly arranged with a wooden hair clasp, giving him a dashing appearance at odds with his expressionless, corpse-like face.

　　The young man came up to Fang Xing and checked him from top to bottom before coldly speaking, “So you’re the one that rang the bell? What is your name?”

　　“Esteemed Shixiong, my name is Fang Xing. I’m a daotong from the C-Rank herb fields, and I am pleased to meet you,” Fang Xing answered politely unlike his typical self. Through his Book of Revelation, he’d seen that the man had already reached the fourth tier of Spirit Stage.

　　“Good. Come with me.” The young man—satisfied with Fang Xing’s manners—nodded before grabbing his arm and storming towards another peak.

　　The speed was so fast that all Fang Xing could feel was the frigid wind cutting at his skin as the thin man pulled him along. ‘What is this? Trying to show off—’as Fang Xing thought to himself, he suddenly remembered that he, too, could use Qi to fend off the wind. Once Fang Xing began utilizing his Qi, he could finally open his eyes again, and he could see that they were traveling at an exceptional speed towards one of the sect’s seven tallest mountain peaks.

　　The thin man finally came to a halt, his hands folded as he moved to politely stand in front of a garret room. “Elder Gao, he’s here.”

　　“Let him in,” an aged voice ordered. The door opened, and the thin man gave Fang Xing a slight push to send him tumbling into the room.

　　“Sh*t! How dare you push me—” Fang Xing unconsciously released a loud curse before feeling the gaze of another upon him.

　　“How did you manage to cultivate Qi?” that same aged voice sounded again, though this time it felt as though the words was reverberating directly inside his mind.

　　Fang Xing turned around to see an ordinary man with wrinkles all over his face and white hair laid neatly on either side of his shoulders. A shadow hid half of the aged man’s face—making him seem even more mysterious to Fang Xing’s gaze—but his eyes were extremely bright. They were unfitting of a man his age, and it felt as though they had the ability to see through every lie.

　　‘Eh? I can’t see his cultivation stage.’ Fang Xing had sneakily tried to gauge the old man only to find out the Book of Revelation couldn’t get any information out of him.

　　A small amount of Qi was required when the Book of Revelation was activated for appraisals, and this was especially so for people. The higher the subject’s cultivation stage, the greater the amount of necessary Qi. In this case, even if Fang Xing were to use all the Qi he’d accumulated, it would still not be enough to appraise the old man.

　　Put simply, this old man was well beyond what Fang Xing could even comprehend.

　　Assuming the old man would see through him if he lied, Fang Xing decided to tell the truth. “I… I ate the Hwa’jin weed.”

　　“Another one,” the old man sighed out, disappointed. “Well, I guess it must be fate that you discovered the weed’s use. You are now an outer court disciple; take this token as proof of your status to Qing-Mu Hall and someone will be there to help you with your accommodations.”

　　Seeming dissatisfied, the old man threw a small, dark wooden block towards Fang Xing after telling him to leave. A drop of Fang Xing’s blood was fused into the block with a few words carved into the wood.

　　“That’s it?” Fang Xing stood in disbelief outside of the garret as the door closed shut behind him. He hadn’t thought it would be that easy.

　　‘What he said… does that mean a lot of people already know about the usage of Hwa’jin?’ Fang Xing wondered confusedly before flipping his wooden block. Carved on the back in bold was a single letter: D.

　　Whatever this meant, it couldn’t be good. Even the herb fields were graded using this system, with Fang Xing’s herb field ranked “C”. With only four total ranks in the sect, it had been the second worst quality.

　　As for the Hwa’jin, what Fang Xing didn’t know was that its usage had been well-researched and was common knowledge among the elders of the sect. The reason no one else of the lower ranks knew anything about it was because the elders had purposefully not allowed it to spread, as they didn’t want an influx of low-aptitude disciples.

　　After all, even if those people did manage to step into the Spirit Stage, they would most likely remain in the lower tiers to the day they died.

　　Despite this, the elders also believed in fate. If someone was able to discover this secret by themselves, they might be either extremely lucky or highly intelligent and able to persevere through hardship. In the world of cultivation, these qualities were often found in those who tended to go further than others.