Qing Xu, the old Taoist, stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking down at the multitude of creatures below, gazing at the faces filled with disappointment.
"The Great Tao is fifty, and there must always be one that escapes."
"Starting from this month, on the seventh day of every month, Xuanyang Temple will recruit one hundred individuals with destiny."
Boom!
"How merciful the Taoist is!"
"How merciful the Emperor is!"
The cheers soared straight into the heavens.
The faces of the crowd, once again filled with excitement.
One hundred people a month, that's twelve hundred in a year, and twelve thousand in ten years.
With such a practice, their chances of entering Xuanyang Temple increased immensely.
Moreover, Xuanyang Temple does not select disciples based on aptitude, wealth, or power, but only on faith.
Thus, everyone's chances were nearly the same.
Qing Xu's palm extended, pressing down lightly.
In an instant, the masses fell silent.
