Chen Ping sat motionless on the meditation cushion. The last trace of restless energy swirling around his body slowly sank into his Dantian.

Six drops of liquid True Essence hovered in the void of his Sea of Qi, perfectly still.

He opened his eyes. The rough texture of the stone walls stood out with razor-sharp clarity in the dim light.

The Foundation Establishment realm was finally stabilized.

He pushed open the heavy stone door of the cave dwelling. Outside, the sky was bright, the sunlight almost blinding after his seclusion.

As his eyes adjusted, he saw three figures standing quietly in the clearing.

They wore the azure robes of the Qingyun Sect Elders, the silver cloud patterns of the Deacon Hall embroidered on their cuffs and collars shimmering in the light.

Their auras were deep and heavy. All three were Foundation Establishment cultivators.

Chen Ping paused, slightly taken aback.

There was a time when Foundation Establishment Elders were figures who dwelt in the clouds, untouchable gods to a lowly disciple like him.

Now, he stood among them as an equal.

“Congratulations, Junior Brother, on your successful Foundation Establishment!”

The leader, an Elder with a square face and a short, well-groomed beard, stepped forward. He cupped his hands, a warm, professional smile on his face.

“I am Zhao Yuanqi of the Deacon Hall. These are Elder Sun and Elder Wu. By the Sect Leader’s order, we have come to register you, Junior Brother, and guide you to the summit of Qingyun Peak to pay respects. Congratulations. From this day forth, you are one of us—an Elder of the Qingyun Sect.”

“Congratulations, Junior Brother Chen.”

The other two Elders bowed slightly, their smiles polite.

Chen Ping nodded, returning the gesture.

A surge of complex emotion swelled in his chest.

Years of low-profile cultivation, of hiding his strength and calculating every move, had finally culminated in this moment. The Sect had officially recognized his status.

He suppressed the feeling, keeping his expression calm.

“Thank you, three Senior Brothers. I have troubled you.”

Zhao Yuanqi’s smile widened at the proper etiquette. He turned and gestured up the path.

“Junior Brother, please follow me.”

The summit of Qingyun Peak was shrouded in mist.

The Qi here was so dense it was almost palpable; a single breath felt like drinking a draft of pure energy, washing away all fatigue.

This was the heart of the Qingyun Sect, the secluded domain of the Sect Leader and the few Supreme Elders who had long since withdrawn from worldly affairs.

Chen Ping had never set foot here before. To his surprise, the summit wasn’t ostentatious. There were no golden palaces, only a few ancient stone halls nestled among verdant pines and cypresses, exuding the heavy, crushing dignity of time.

Led by Zhao Yuanqi, Chen Ping entered the central stone hall.

The interior was sparse. A stone table, a few meditation cushions—nothing else.

A middle-aged Daoist in plain robes sat cross-legged on the main seat. His face was lean, his eyes containing an ocean of depth. When he blinked, a subtle divine light flickered within his pupils.

This was the Sect Leader of Qingyun Sect, the Violet Palace realm powerhouse, Li Lingfeng.

“Sect Leader, the newly advanced Foundation Establishment Elder, Chen Ping, has arrived,” Zhao Yuanqi reported with a deep bow.

Li Lingfeng’s gaze shifted to Chen Ping. It was calm, unruffled, yet carried a terrifying weight.

Chen Ping felt stripped bare, as if those eyes could see through his skin to the secrets buried in his soul.

He bowed deeply, adhering to strict etiquette.

“Disciple Chen Ping pays his respects to the Sect Leader.”

“Rise.”

Li Lingfeng’s voice was even, betraying no emotion.

He observed Chen Ping for a long moment. Suddenly, a flicker of genuine surprise disrupted his calm facade.

“Your bone age… is under twenty-five?”

He spoke slowly, stressing the words.

“To achieve Foundation Establishment at such a young age… rare. Very rare.”

Chen Ping’s heart tightened. He kept his head lowered, daring not to show a flicker of pride.

“This disciple was merely fortunate.”

Li Lingfeng nodded slightly, falling silent. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind.

The hall descended into absolute silence. The only sound was the wind whipping through the pine forest outside.

“Chen Ping.”

Li Lingfeng spoke again, his tone carrying a new gravity.

“Since you have established your Foundation, you are now a pillar of our Sect. I observe that your temperament is steady and your root bone is excellent. Are you willing to enter my door as a disciple?”

Root bone is excellent?

Chen Ping’s heart skipped a beat.

Become the Sect Leader’s disciple?

His mind raced, instantly dissecting the implications.

This wasn’t a simple offer of mentorship.

On the way here, Senior Brother Zhao had mentioned that the Sect Leader currently had no personal disciples.

This offer was a strategic move. Li Lingfeng saw a young, unconnected, and seemingly talented cultivator and wanted to mold him into a successor.

It was a massive temptation.

To be the Sect Leader’s personal disciple meant unlimited resources, supreme status, and a meteoric rise to power. It was a golden ticket to the heavens.

However, Chen Ping rejected the choice in his heart almost instantly.

He had a brutally clear understanding of his own reality. He possessed a Five Elements Waste Spirit Root. Reaching Foundation Establishment had already required a miracle and a fortune.

Inside his Dantian, there were only six lonely drops of True Essence.

His potential was trash. Compared to the true prodigies who started with ten or eighteen drops, he was mud on the ground.

If he accepted, he would be thrust into the spotlight. The scrutiny would be intense. His “Waste Spirit Root” would be exposed, and the disappointment would be crushing.

Furthermore, the position of successor meant endless politics and administrative duties, eating into his precious cultivation time.

And the most important factor? He didn’t need their charity. The Jade Pendant space provided him with infinite resources.

He didn’t need a master. He needed time and anonymity.

“This disciple is terrified.”

Chen Ping kept his head bowed low, his tone respectful but laced with an unshakeable resolve.

“The Sect Leader’s favor is a weight I can barely carry. However, this disciple knows his own limits. My learning is shallow, and my aptitude is dull. I fear I would only disappoint your expectations. This disciple… would prefer to contribute his meager strength to the Sect through practical duties, cultivating steadily in the background.”

Silence.

You could hear a pin drop in the great hall.

Zhao Yuanqi and the other two Elders held their breath, their eyes darting nervously between the Sect Leader and the audacious youth.

They hadn’t expected Chen Ping to refuse. And certainly not so decisively.

Li Lingfeng’s expression remained calm, but deep within his pool-like eyes, a trace of disappointment flashed and vanished.

He was a Violet Palace master; he would not beg.

“Very well,” he said indifferently. “Everyone has their own aspirations. Forcing it is pointless. Elder Zhao.”

“Disciple is here,” Zhao Yuanqi responded instantly.

“The Deacon Hall will arrange Elder Chen’s subsequent matters.”

Li Lingfeng waved his hand and closed his eyes, dismissing them.

“As you command.”

Zhao Yuanqi bowed, shooting Chen Ping a complicated look before signaling him to leave.

Chen Ping bowed once more.

“Disciple takes his leave.”

He turned and followed the three Elders out of the hall.

The wind at the peak was biting cold. It slapped against his face, cooling the slight heat of anxiety he felt from refusing a Violet Palace expert.

This is for the best, Chen Ping told himself. Better to be a free agent than a shackled prince.

Back at the Deacon Hall, Zhao Yuanqi led Chen Ping to a quiet side room.

The furnishings were simple: two rattan chairs and a small table. A Qi Condensation servant disciple quickly served two cups of emerald tea, the steam curling with spiritual energy.

“Junior Brother Chen, please.”

Zhao Yuanqi gestured for him to sit, then took the opposite chair. He pulled a jade scroll from his storage bag and unfurled it in the air.

Spiritual light danced across the surface, manifesting into rows of text and diagrams. It was the menu of power—the vacant positions available for a new Foundation Establishment Elder.

“Take a look, Junior Brother,” Zhao Yuanqi said, pointing at the floating text. “These are the seats currently open. Each has its perks. Once you choose a role, your authority, salary, staff, and territory will be set.”

Chen Ping’s gaze swept over the list.

Deputy Valley Master of Spirit Beast Valley: In charge of breeding and taming. Perks: Bonus Contribution Points for high output, priority access to powerful beast contracts.

Valley Master of Spirit Ore Valley: In charge of a mining operation. Note: Widely known to be fat with skimming opportunities.

Deacon Hall Elder (Pill Division): Assist in managing the Sect’s alchemy logistics. Note: Prime access to pills and ingredients…

His eyes drifted down and locked onto a specific line.

Head of the Spirit Plant Hall: In charge of the Sect’s direct-controlled medicinal gardens. Perks: Contribution Points awarded for meeting production quotas.

Almost instantly, Chen Ping made his decision.

Spirit Plants.

Farming was his domain. It was the perfect cover for his own abilities, and more importantly, it was a role that allowed him to avoid the political crossfire of the combat or resource-heavy departments.

“Senior Brother Zhao,” Chen Ping said, pointing at the line, his voice calm and steady. “I choose the Spirit Plant Hall.”