“One!”

Zhao Ning extended his index finger, his expression severe.

“Every year, you must complete at least one sect mission. The Mission Hall posts these regularly, ranging in difficulty from early to late Qi Condensation. The Contribution Points awarded vary wildly. Act within your means, but do not shirk this duty. Failure results in a deducted stipend at best, or expulsion from the Outer Sect at worst.”

Chen Ping nodded, his face a mask of attentive obedience.

“Yes, Senior Brother. I understand.”

“Two!”

Zhao Ning raised a second finger. His voice dropped an octave, heavy with warning.

“If the sect issues a Conscription Order, it does not matter what the task is or where you are. Upon receiving the command, you must drop everything and proceed to the assembly point immediately. No excuses. No refusals. This is an iron law. Violators are treated as traitors to the sect and executed!”

Conscription Order?

Chen Ping’s heart tightened slightly. He filed the term away, sensing the blood and danger lurking behind the words.

Zhao Ning didn’t elaborate. He simply gave Chen Ping a deep, piercing look.

“Just remember it. Three: Private duels between disciples are strictly forbidden! If a conflict is truly irreconcilable, apply for the ‘Dueling Platform.’ But private combat? If it results in death, the punishment is absolute—cultivation crippled, followed by expulsion. Even injuring a fellow disciple carries a heavy penalty.”

Three rules.

The second regarding conscription and the third regarding the brutal punishments clarified the atmosphere of the Outer Sect instantly. Beneath the veneer of cultivation, the disciples were leashed dogs.

“Of course,” Zhao Ning’s tone softened as the tension in the air peaked. He raised a fourth finger. “There are benefits.”

“First, the stipend. Two Low-grade Spirit Stones and one Marrow Cleansing Pill every month. Collect them from the Contribution Pavilion with your identity jade token between the first and tenth. If your cultivation rises, so does the stipend!”

Chen Ping’s eyes flickered. Two stones and a pill? Compared to the five stones a year on Servant Peak, this was a fortune.

“Second,” Zhao Ning continued. “You may select an unoccupied Cave Dwelling at the foot of Qingyun Peak. Location matters. The closer you are to the spiritual vein at the summit, the richer the Qi. Naturally, the prime spots were taken years ago by senior brothers. What you find now depends on luck.”

An independent cave. For a Qi Condensation cultivator, this was the ultimate luxury. For the first time, Chen Ping felt he had truly stepped onto the path of power.

“Third!” A flicker of encouragement entered Zhao Ning’s eyes. “Contribution Points. You earn these through missions or special services. They are the currency of power here—exchangeable at the Scripture Pavilion for cultivation techniques, secret arts, pill formulas, and forging blueprints.”

Techniques and Secret Arts.

Chen Ping’s pulse quickened. This was his most urgent need.

“Fourth!” Zhao Ning raised his pinky. “On the mornings of the 1st and 15th, Foundation Establishment elders hold public lectures at the Dao Preaching Hall. They answer questions and explain the Dao. Do not miss these.”

Zhao Ning lowered his hand.

“Finally, beyond mandatory duties, the Mission Hall offers endless ordinary tasks. Grind them for Spirit Stones, pills, or points. How you balance your time is up to you.”

Rules and rewards. Restrictions and resources. The ecosystem of the Outer Sect was laid bare.

Chen Ping straightened his robes and bowed deeply, his demeanor solemn.

“Thank you, Senior Brother Zhao, for your guidance. I will engrave these words in my heart.”

“Mn. We are fellow disciples; it is only right.”

Zhao Ning accepted the bow, visibly pleased with Chen Ping’s respectful attitude.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you to Qingyun Peak to pick your home. Where you settle is no small matter.”

Qingyun Mountain was not a single peak, but a sprawling range of rolling highlands that formed the spine of the Outer Sect.

In the center stood the towering Main Peak, piercing the clouds—the domain of Elders and true legacy disciples. Even from a distance, the Qi there looked like a physical mist, swirling and vibrant.

Scattered across the lower mountains were thousands of faint energy signatures, shining like stars. The caves of the Outer Disciples.

Zhao Ning led Chen Ping and the others up the stone steps.

With every hundred feet of elevation, the air grew sweeter, the Qi more active. Just breathing it in cleared the mind.

Along the cliff faces and hollows, cave entrances appeared. Some stone doors were sealed tight, glowing with the soft hum of restrictions. Others stood wide open, revealing sparse furniture inside.

“See that?” Zhao Ning pointed toward the upper slopes, where the Qi formed a visible haze.

“Near the summit is the Inner Sect territory. Below that is us. The rule is simple: the higher the cave, the better the cultivation speed.”

They climbed higher.

As expected, the prime real estate—caves with open views and rich Qi—was fully occupied. Some entrances were even guarded by private formations, signaling wealthy or powerful occupants.

“There.” Zhao Ning pointed to a sunny slope. “Those few spots opened up recently. The Qi is decent, and they face the sun.”

Chen Ping glanced over.

The location was good. Sheltered from the wind, dry, surrounded by sparse woods.

He looked away.

He didn’t stop walking, his eyes scanning the edges of the mountain—the shadows, the ravines, the places others ignored.

Zhao Ning blinked, surprised. “Junior Brother Chen? Those were good spots…”

“Senior Brother, I’d like to look a bit more,” Chen Ping said softly, his pace steady.

As they moved away from the prime areas, the options grew worse.

Unoccupied caves were now found in narrow cracks with no light, on damp northern slopes that smelled of mold, or in jagged, rocky terrain that made walking difficult.

Finally, Chen Ping stopped.

Ahead, beneath a massive, jutting overhang of rock, lay a deep shadow.

Ideally hidden.

If one didn’t look closely, the narrow entrance—barely wide enough for a single man—would be invisible from the main path. The overhang acted as a natural roof, plunging the entire area into perpetual twilight.

In front of the cave lay a sloping patch of land, roughly ten acres. It was a mess of jagged rubble and hardy weeds. The soil looked gray and exhausted.

Chen Ping pushed through a thicket of thorns and stood before the entrance.

A cold, damp draft blew out from the dark hole.

He extended a thread of spiritual power to scan the interior.

“Junior Brother Chen,” Zhao Ning frowned, stepping up beside him. “You’re actually considering this?”

“It’s too remote,” Zhao Ning warned, shaking his head. “The Qi density here is bottom-tier. Look at the entrance—no light, heavy moisture. And this ‘field’? The sect allocates it to the cave, yes, but the soil is dead. You couldn’t grow Spirit Grain here if you tried, let alone herbs. It’s not worth it.”

Chen Ping ignored the warnings, his senses analyzing the space.

The interior was spacious enough. The Qi was indeed thin, far worse than the sunny slope.

But the seclusion…

The massive rock overhead shielded the entrance from the sky. The angle of the cliff hid it from the road. No one would pass by here accidentally. It was a blind spot.

And the ten acres of dead soil?

Chen Ping touched the Jade Pendant against his chest. With the spirit soil in his dimension, he could resurrect this land.

“Senior Brother.”

Chen Ping turned, a self-deprecating, weary smile on his face.

“My foundation is shallow. I am lucky just to be here. This place… the Qi is poor, yes, but it is quiet. No one will bother me.”

He gestured to the rocky wasteland.

“I can slowly clear these ten acres. Plant some cheap, hardy herbs. It won’t be much, but it will help subsidize my cultivation. I’d rather live a hard, quiet life than fight for a better spot and invite trouble.”

Zhao Ning stared at him.

He saw a humble man, content with poverty, terrified of conflict. He remembered the reports from Servant Peak—diligent, kept his head down, never caused issues.

The confusion in Zhao Ning’s eyes faded, replaced by genuine appreciation.

In the cutthroat Outer Sect, a disciple who knew his place and refused to chase vanity was a rare gem.

“Mm.” Zhao Ning patted Chen Ping’s shoulder firmly.

“To think like that… it is rare wisdom. The path of cultivation is a marathon, not a sprint. A steady heart often outlasts a flashy talent. This place is certainly quiet. If you want to immerse yourself in cultivation, it is a good choice.”

He pointed to a small, raised stone node near the entrance.

“Set your seal.”

Chen Ping pressed his identity jade token against the stone.

Flash.

Runes lit up along the rock face, tracing a complex pattern before fading into the stone. A transparent ripple shuddered across the cave mouth and vanished.

The Restriction was active. The cave was his.

“The Restriction is basic,” Zhao Ning cautioned. “It will keep out wild beasts and early Qi Condensation peeping toms, but don’t expect it to stop a real attack.”

“I understand. Thank you, Senior Brother.”

Zhao Ning nodded and turned to leave. He took one step, then paused, hesitating.