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墨書 Inktalez
In the Southern Zhongzhou, at the Universal Cloud Palace, amidst the vast mountains, there was a lively scene at the registration desk for new Inner Courtyard Disciples of the Myriad Spirit Sect. Two Steward Disciples were engaged in a spirited conversation, with plates of beef and various fruits laid out before them.
"Have you heard? That Three-Inch Pig Dragon Xiao Wu is about to reach his limit; I can't believe he's held out this long," one of the Steward Disciples remarked with interest.
"Rough skin and thick flesh can take a beating. He endures nine beatings a day without begging for mercy. A cultivator without a Spiritual Root is ultimately useless; their future development is limited, so why bother struggling in vain?"
"Still, he's quite impressive, having fought his way from the first level all the way to the strongest tier. He’s even gone toe-to-toe with the Grand Offering of the Nine Camps. You should have seen it; he was beaten to a pulp!"
"Indeed! That scholar isn’t too shabby either. He managed to fight against someone at the seventh level of Foundation Establishment Stage while only being at the third level himself. He’s definitely among the more prominent disciples."
"I heard Scholar Xiu has been sent to the disabled zone. After two years of continuous battles, he’s just been getting worse and worse—he's practically half-disabled now. He probably won't get far on his cultivation path."
"Weren't they saying his brain got damaged? How did he end up in the disabled zone then?"
"Isn't being brain-dead a form of disability?"
"You've got a point there, haha."
As they laughed and chatted, a young man approached from a distance. With a handsome face and graceful demeanor, he politely clasped his fists and asked, "Excuse me, brothers, is this where new Inner Sect disciples report? Who is in charge here?"
The two Steward Disciples exchanged glances at the somewhat frail-looking youth and waved him off dismissively, returning to their conversation as if he were invisible.
The young man was Zhao Yang. Knowing that there were countless experts among the Inner Courtyard Disciples, he had prepared to present himself as cultured and engage in civilized dialogue. However, it was clear that his initial attempt at interaction had failed miserably.
However, Zhao Yang did not feel discouraged. Standing under the blazing sun for a while, he continued with humility, "I apologize for the disturbance, Senior Brother. I am the newly admitted Foundation Stage Disciple, Zhao Yang. As I am new here, I am unfamiliar with many things, and I hope you can be understanding."
Upon hearing Zhao Yang's inquiry, the two Steward Disciples displayed signs of impatience. One young man widened his eyes and exclaimed, "Are you blind? It's lunchtime right now! If you say one more useless word, do you believe I can ruin your cultivation in just a few moments?!"
"Uh." Zhao Yang immediately fell silent, reflecting on where things had gone wrong. Why was it that in the cultivation world, as in his previous life, there existed class divisions, with injustice and oppression everywhere? He had thought that once he entered the Inner Courtyard, everyone would have significantly improved their character and would help each other cross the street. However, reality was not as he had imagined. Feeling a surge of anger, he decided to suppress it and continue to observe what would happen if he refrained from using force.
After another half an hour passed, as the time approached the hour of Wu—around two o'clock in the afternoon by his previous world's standards—any workplace should have resumed operations by now. The two Steward Disciples had been sitting under the shade, eating meat and drinking wine for quite some time. Perhaps having finished their conversation, they began to indulge in some afternoon desserts and fruits.
Zhao Yang quietly watched from the side, waiting for two hours.
At this moment, one of the Steward Disciples finally lifted his head and looked at Zhao Yang with a smile, teasingly asking, "New here?"
Zhao Yang politely replied, "Yes, Senior Brother. I just completed my foundation today and came here to report."
The other Steward Disciple also asked with a smirk, "Just established your foundation today? What grade is it? What kind of Spiritual Root do you have?"
Zhao Yang responded politely again, "It is Fragmented Foundation. I am a foolish disciple with Mixed Spiritual Root." He did not reveal that he was actually a Perfect Foundation cultivator with a Chaotic Root; otherwise, these two would surely laugh at him as if he were joking.
"Wait a minute! You can call us Senior Brothers, but don't refer to yourself as a Junior Brother; you are not worthy yet. Once you enter the Inner Sect, make sure to understand your place," one of them warned.
"Right! With your Fragmented Foundation and Mixed Spiritual Root being inferior qualities, you should know that you're only fit for the Offering Camp. Don't delude yourself into thinking you can converse equally with us," the other added.
"I think this kid looks quite handsome; why not send him as a tribute to the Sixth Camp's offerings?"
"Ha ha, that's the one with the good looks of Longyang..."
The two spoke casually, completely disregarding Zhao Yang, treating him like a lamb left out to dry. However, Zhao Yang, maintaining his good temper, asked, "Excuse me, what does Offering Camp mean?"
One of the Steward Disciples was about to respond when the other tapped the table with his chopsticks to silence him. Then he turned to Zhao Yang and said, "You go wash the dirty socks and underwear in that room first. Once you're done, fill that big wooden tub with water."
"Uh..." Zhao Yang was taken aback. The Steward Disciple's words reminded him of certain military customs from his past life. When new recruits arrived at the barracks, their first task was often to endure beatings and learn their place, followed by washing the socks and underwear of the veterans. Those who disobeyed would face severe punishment, not to mention those stubborn enough to vow revenge. Some veterans were skilled at inflicting pain without leaving visible marks; internally, however, serious injuries could accumulate. Not only could this lead to long-term damage, but during training, any sign of weakness could result in corporal punishment or even a spot on the death list.
As Zhao Yang pondered this, he suddenly felt a kick to his backside. He stumbled forward a few steps, nearly falling over, his expression one of shock.
"What are you dawdling for? Are you unwilling to do it?"
"A Pretty Boy like him must have either relied on money or sold himself to get in here. He should be beaten three times a day and severely punished every three days. In the Inner Courtyard, there are at least eight or ten who have met their end like him."
"Can they really kill at will?" Zhao Yang thought angrily as he faced away from the two Steward Disciples. He had just been kicked and was now seething with rage, breathing heavily as he muttered to himself, "Just got into the Inner Courtyard; I need to familiarize myself first. No killing—stay calm, stay calm..."
Turning back around, Zhao Yang wore a warm and gentle smile once more.
"Look at him; he's so pathetic. Just got beaten and is already so happy. Not sending someone like him to Sixth Camp would be a waste," one Steward Disciple sneered while pointing at Zhao Yang. "Aren't you going to fetch water and wash clothes? Are you looking for death here?"
With that, the Steward Disciple stood up and kicked again, aiming directly at Zhao Yang's abdomen. Zhao Yang quickly shifted to the right by a foot to avoid it, causing the disciple to miss and nearly lose his balance.
"You worthless coward! You dare dodge?!" The Steward Disciple's face darkened as he revealed a murderous intent. His hands surged with sharp True Qi as he swung a fist toward Zhao Yang.
Zhao Yang extended a finger and gently deflected the Steward Disciple's fist to the side. He then took three steps back, a flash of blood-red appearing in his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it. Addressing the attacking Steward Disciple, he said, "Brother, why must you be angry? Can't we discuss this calmly? I merely defended myself instinctively; do you really want to kill me over that?"
Another Steward Disciple threw down the wine cup in his hand and shouted, "Who do you think you are to block his attack? Just a piece of trash who has recently joined! In this place, if you can't behave, you don't deserve to live!"
"Is this what you call not knowing how to behave? I only defended myself without retaliating; is that really a crime worthy of death?" Zhao Yang's expression darkened, clearly reaching the limit of his patience.
"Retaliate?" The Steward Disciple laughed as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world. Though angry, he managed to force a smile. "You think you have the right to talk about retaliation? You don't need any other reason for me to want you dead; just looking at you is enough! I've seen too many hypocrites like you who pretend to be gentlemen on the surface but are beasts underneath! My sister was killed by such a false gentleman like you back in the day; stripped of her clothes, she was worse than a beast!"
Hearing the baseless accusations from the Steward Disciple, Zhao Yang couldn't help but feel amused and exasperated. "What you're talking about refers to someone else, not me."
Seeing that the Steward Disciple was about to speak again, Zhao Yang interjected, "If I were you, I wouldn't say another word. Today, I can make an exception and spare your life. Even if you make me fetch water and do laundry, my only condition is that you tell me what the Offering Camp is, what the Sixth Camp is, and anything else I should know."
"Looks like we have a newcomer who's not afraid of death," one of the two Steward Disciples said with a mocking glance at his companion. "Two years ago, Long Xiao Wu was already quite a character; who would have thought another one would come along? Although Long Xiao Wu was useless without a Spiritual Root, he was a body cultivator with some Combat Power. I wonder how much you weigh?"
Zhao Yang let out a light breath, his expression gradually turning cold. "How did you treat Long Xiao Wu back then?"
The Steward Disciple replied with interest, "Good question! How did we treat him? Our Inner Courtyard has countless experts; Long Xiao Wu dared to be so arrogant! He refused to join either the Offering Camp or the Nine Great Royal Cities' Offering Camp. In the end, didn't he still end up in the Offering Camp?"
"Stop wasting time with him. Look at this kid's expression; he seems quite unconvinced. I knew he wasn't a good person pretending to be innocent. Let's chop off one of his hands and scar his face to teach him a lesson," said the Steward Disciple whose sister had been murdered.
Zhao Yang's face remained expressionless as his hands began to tremble. He had endured far more than anyone could imagine. He never expected that by lowering himself just a little bit, he would be pushed around like this. It truly echoed that saying—if I don’t bully others, others will bully me.
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