The collective two and a half square miles of herb fields owned by the Qing-Yun Sect reverberated with the name of a boy, of gluttony in human form: Fang Xing.
For the past two months, Fang Xing had been consuming at least ten pounds of meat every day. This didn’t even include the rice, fruits, vegetables, and wine he would have on top of that, and he’d even buy some herbs and tonics every so often to supplement his sizable diet. Thanks to him, all five of the daotongs in his herb field had managed to gain themselves extra layers of fat complete with prominent double chins and potbellies.
Yet, despite all this food, Fang Xing had actually become thinner than he was before. In fact, he had become so thin he was like a piece of paper that could be easily sent flying on a breeze. In spite of his physique, however, his spirit was high and his eyes were shining with energy.
Although his eyes were focused on the hare roasting on the bonfire as though fascinated, Fang Xing’s mind was wandering off somewhere else. ‘As I expected, Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation is really powerful. No wonder even Ninth Uncle Joshu with his skills in martial arts wasn’t a match for that man….’
They’d spent nearly all their savings on food in these two months, and—without any other options—they been forced to resort to hunting. Fang Xing couldn’t really ask them to sell themselves, after all… and besides, based on their appearance, no one would want to pay for them anyway.
The sect fortunately didn’t have any restrictions on hunting for wild animals within its mountain ranges, and now that Fang Xing had grasped the basic flow of Qi, his eyes and ears had also become sharper than normal; hunting wild hares and birds was a breeze for him.
Fang Xing had even run into a wolf and battled with it on one occasion. He’d grabbed its tail, jumped on its back, and then bashed it with his bare hands until the poor sucker died. When Fang Xing dragged the wolf back to their wooden cabin, Wang Zhi and the rest of the daotongs were so stunned they nearly wet themselves.
It was also from that point on that they finally accepted Fang Xing as their leader from the depths of their hearts. From that day onward, "Boss Fang Xing" was no longer just a name they forced themselves to address him with, but rather something that came honestly from their hearts.
‘I finally have enough Qi to circulate one full cycle. I wonder if this counts as reaching the first tier of Spirit Stage?’ Fang Xing thought to himself. According to the rules of the sect, once a daotong reached the first tier of Spirit Stage, they would no longer need to do any hard labor and instead would receive numerous benefits as a true disciple of the Qing-Yun Sect’s outer court.
Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation mentioned nothing on how to distinguish the difference between each tier, so Fang Xing was left without even knowing how close or how far he was to reaching the first one.
"Boss! We’re back with the firewood…." Freckle-Boy and Wang Zhi were smiling broadly, each carrying a bundle of firewood on their back. Although they’d started hunting, the work at the herb field still had to be done, so the daotongs took turns hunting with Fang Xing. Today it was Freckle-Boy and Wang Zhi’s turn, and he’d asked them to pick some firewood so they could start up a fire and cook their kills for the day.
During Wang Zhi’s time as boss, there had been a clear hierarchy despite there only being five of them total. Wang Zhi would bully someone, and that someone would bully the next person down along his hierarchical chain, and so on. Ever since Fang Xing had become the boss, however, everything had become much simpler—everyone had to listen to Fang Xing, and there was no bullying allowed among the rest of them. Every time Wang Zhi unconsciously tried to order Freckle-Boy or Ghost-Face to do something, Fang Xing would kick him out of it. Within three months, Wang Zhi had even gotten used to washing his own dirty socks.
Fang Xing’s dirty socks were washed by everyone else, of course.
"The fire’s almost out, hurry up you two! Going to just take your time?" Fang Xing mocked, hurrying the boys over.
The supposedly simple and ascetic lifestyle of these daotongs had now become quite… plentiful.
As they were portioning out the already-cooked hare meat onto plates, someone ran hurriedly over, screaming, "Boss! There’s a shixiong from one of the departments asking for you guys in the herb field! They’re angry because you’re not in the fields!"
All three of them looked up to see a worried Ghost-Face. Fang Xing wondered aloud, "Isn’t the monthly inspection tomorrow? What are they doing here today?"
"I’m not sure, but apparently it’s a shixiong named Yu who just happened to pass our herb field and decided to drop by and have a look…."
Hearing this, a surprised and bitter expression formed on Wang Zhi’s face. Normally, no one would ever bother them as long as they maintained their herb field well.
Every three months, someone from the Herb Department would come and check in on the daotongs to make sure there was no slacking off and everything was in order, and if they managed to find something wrong or unusual during their visit, it was possible for the daotongs’ wages to be cut. Depending on the actual "problem", even physical punishment might get involved, and these greedy shixiongs would often take the opportunity to extort some money during their visits as well.
None of the gang had taken the day off today. They had, however, gone out to the back mountain to hunt, which was potentially a rather large "problem" now that someone had come here for an early inspection.
Freckle-Boy was so frightened that his complexion grew just as pale as Ghost-Face’s.
Fang Xing spat out the grassroot he’d been chewing on. "What are you all afraid of? I’ll go have a look!" he said with derision before ordering Wang Zhi to wrap up their cooked hare meat in bamboo leaves.
In front of the C-Rank herb field, three blue-faced Daoists coldly watched the three daotongs arrive following behind Ghost-Face.
‘It’s him?’ Fang Xing smirked to himself when he saw who the leader of the pack was: a stubby man with squinty eyes who clearly looked like he was up to no good.
The stubby man was the very same plump Daoist Fang Xing had ridiculed in front of hundreds and thousands of people during the recruitment ceremony: an outer court disciple named Yu Sanliang. The other two following close behind were two daotongs the plump Daoist had asked to be there with him to improve his image.
"Hah! Caught red-handed! This is during work hours; what are you all doing slacking off! If I go and report this to the Herb Department, they will beat the hell out of all of your *sses!" When Yu Sanliang saw Fang Xing from afar, even the fat on his face wobbled from excitement. "Oh, and especially you! You’ve only been here for how many days? How dare you violate the rules; do you want to be thrown out of the sect so soon?"
The plump Daoist Yu did not belong to the Herb Department, but actually worked at the Miscellaneous Department. This Miscellaneous Department—as its name implied—looked after all the menial matters in the Qing-Yun Sect. Put simply, they pretty much just ran errands for the other departments.
Yu Sanliang only decided to drop by the herb fields because he’d been asked to sort something out at another field. Remembering the little monkey he’d sent to a nearby field three months ago, he decided to drop by to see if he’d been fixed up by the older daotongs... but who would have expected that when he arrived at the field, Fang Xing would be nowhere to be seen? There was no better opportunity to have some sweet revenge for what the monkey said about him three months ago.
"Isn’t this Shixiong
"Zhu your face! My name is Yu!" The fat on his face rolled again as he loudly cursed.
Fang Xing smiled even more broadly when it seemed Yu Sanliang didn’t even realize he’d just been mocked. Suddenly, a random paragraph appeared across his mind:
‘Spirit Stage. Tier one. Physically weak. Amount of Qi contained in his meridians is….’
It was all information about Yu Sanliang’s cultivation tier and stage, and there was even information about his shortcomings.
‘Wait, was that… that book can do appraisals on people, too?’ Fang Xing was so surprised not even he could control the muscles in his face.
Seeing Fang Xing’s expression change, the plump Daoist was convinced his words must have sent the boy into shock and fear. Satisfied and proud of himself, he coldly laughed out, "Scared, huh? Then drop to your knees. If I feel satisfied after that, I may just forgive you this time…."
Fang Xing began to circle the plump Daoist in thought, catching the latter’s interest. Not knowing what the monkey could be planning in his head, the plump Daoist Yu began to yell, "What are you looking at, you little brat! I’ll kick you flying again if you keep on looking at me like—"
"Are you from the Herb Department?" Fang Xing suddenly interrupted.
"No, but so?"
"Did a shixiong from the Herb Department ask you to come here for inspection?" Fang Xing continued.
"No. I was passing by, so I thought I’d check on all of you to make sure no one was slacking off…."
"Slacking off your mom!" Fang Xing—being only ten years old—was not very tall in comparison to a fully grown man like the plump Daoist, but he was still able to reach his face to land a loud smack on his cheeks after a swift jump. An obvious palm mark was left on the Daoist’s right cheek, and blood began to ooze from his nose.
"Little bastard, you dare to hit me?" Yu Sanliang shouted a few seconds later after he realized what had just happened. Just as he finished, however, a powerful kick forced him to bend his leg at the knee and—unable to regain his balance—the Daoist fell flat on the ground face-first with Fang Xing standing right over him.
"No, how dare you! Someone from the Miscellaneous Department coming to interfere with our Herb Department?" Fang Xing landed another punch to Yu Sanliang’s face before continuing, "Yes, I’m beating you up. You know, you really deserve a good beating for thinking you have any authority here!"
Soon, the crying man realized something: although he’d only achieved tier one of Spirit Stage, he was still a cultivator, and he tried to utilize his Qi to fend Fang Xing off.
Who would have imagined that Fang Xing had also reached the Spirit Stage by now and would use his Qi to counteract Yu Sanliang’s own? Fang Xing continued to land punches and kicks all over the plump man’s body while the daotongs watched on in horror.