Chen Ping hurriedly opened the booklet.

The paper was coarse and yellowed, filled with names of places and personnel scrawled in rough brushstrokes. Some entries were marked with checkmarks; others were left blank.

His gaze swept quickly over the unfamiliar locations: Beast Pen, Weaving Workshop, Spirit Grain Granary, Charcoal Kiln, Laundry Room...

Most were arduous, filthy tasks involving heavy labor, managing anywhere from a dozen to several dozen workers.

Suddenly, his eyes locked onto a single name.

Hundred Herb Garden.

The three characters seemed to possess a magnetic pull, instantly capturing his entire focus. The ink used for them appeared thicker, heavier than the rest.

Next to it was an annotation: "One Manager position vacant. Oversees eight regular laborers."

The Hundred Herb Garden!

The place where the Sect grew its spirit herbs!

It was said that every peak in the Sect possessed a Spirit Vein. Above these veins, Spirit Soil was derived. And only in Spirit Soil could one plant Spirit Rice and spirit herbs.

Even the Servant Peak had a Spirit Vein and a herb garden.

This was a heaven-sent opportunity.

Chen Ping’s breathing grew rapid and shallow.

Spirit herbs were the very foundation of the Immortal Path.

In his Jade Pendant space, the mysterious Black Earth had an unimaginably miraculous effect on the growth of the Purifying Grass. If he could get his hands on real spirit herbs...

Even if they were just the most ordinary seeds, once planted in that Black Earth...

What kind of harvest would that yield?

A tremendous temptation, hot as scalding magma, shattered his calm facade.

Becoming a Manager disciple was just the first step. The Hundred Herb Garden was the true springboard that might allow him to touch the hem of Immortal Fate.

He barely hesitated. Pointing at the three characters on the booklet, his voice carried an uncontrollable urgency.

"Manager, this disciple wishes to go to the Hundred Herb Garden!"

"Oh?"

The middle-aged Manager looked up from his tattered book. He seemed slightly surprised by Chen Ping’s choice, yet found it strangely fitting.

He glanced at the booklet and nodded.

"The Hundred Herb Garden. Fine. That place is quiet, and the work is delicate. It’s just right for nurturing your... consumptive illness."

His tone carried a faint trace of mockery; it was unclear whether he was teasing or simply stating a fact.

He took a thin brush from a drawer, dipped it in ink, and neatly wrote Chen Ping in the blank space next to Hundred Herb Garden.

After completing the registration, the Manager closed the booklet and tossed it back into the drawer.

"This disciple still has one matter unclear. I humbly request your guidance."

Chen Ping gingerly put away his token, clothes, Ox Strength Pill, and duty record before bowing again.

"Speak."

"This disciple wishes to test for a Spirit Root. I know this requires becoming a Registered Disciple... I wonder what the conditions are for this test? And where is it conducted?"

Chen Ping voiced his deepest desire.

Strength was the foundation, but a Spirit Root was the key to knocking open the Immortal Gate.

Upon hearing this, a barely perceptible curve tugged at the corner of the Manager's mouth. It was as if he had heard something both amusing and foolish.

He put down his book. Those eyes, deep as ancient wells, looked at Chen Ping with a mix of worldly indifference and blunt reality.

"Conditions? Hah."

He scoffed softly. The sound wasn't loud, yet it pierced Chen Ping’s ears like an ice pick.

"Test for a Spirit Root? Simple. Go to the Internal Affairs Hall. Hand over five Low-grade Spirit Stones, and they'll test you."

"Five... Low-grade Spirit Stones?"

Chen Ping’s heart sank.

"That's right. Five Low-grade stones."

The Manager’s voice held no fluctuation. He stated it as an indisputable law of nature.

"One Low-grade Spirit Stone exchanges for one hundred Low-grade Spirit Crystals. Five means five hundred Low-grade Spirit Crystals."

Five hundred Spirit Crystals!

Chen Ping instantly understood the gravity of the number.

A Manager disciple’s monthly stipend was two Spirit Crystals. That was twenty-four a year.

Five hundred Spirit Crystals meant he would need to save for over twenty years, without eating, drinking, or spending a single shard on cultivation!

And this was merely the cost for testing his Spirit Root once.

As for the tribute required to actually become a Registered Disciple... that figure was likely even more nightmarish.

This wasn't a condition; it was a chasm.

It was a barrier built from massive resources, designed specifically to separate Mortals from the Immortal Path.

Internal Affairs Hall? That was just a name. The "Five Spirit Stones" fee was the line drawn by the lofty Immortals to keep the lowly dirt where it belonged.

If you could afford it, you bought the right to know if you had a destiny.

If you couldn't? Then roll in the mud for the rest of your life.

This wasn't a conspiracy. It was an open scheme laid bare: I need these five Spirit Stones. If you can produce them, I'll give you a chance. If not? Get back to work.

The cold reality poured down on him like a basin of ice water, instantly extinguishing the fervor of his promotion.

Over twenty years...

The time was too long. The variables were too many.

The Manager seemed quite satisfied with seeing Chen Ping freeze in shock. He picked up his tattered book again and waved his hand dismissively.

"Now that you know, go on down. The Hundred Herb Garden is at the Back Mountain. Find your own way there. Your token has Restrictions on it; someone will receive you when you arrive."

Chen Ping silently bowed.

He turned around and walked out of the hall. The building symbolized the highest authority of the Servant Peak, yet now, it made him feel a chill deeper than the winter wind.

Outside, the mountain air remained biting.

Standing atop the peak, he looked down at the layered shacks below, resembling a chaotic ant nest, and the winding mine entrances that snaked like dark ribbons into the earth.

His mind raced.

The distant, true Immortal Sect gate, shrouded in swirling clouds and brimming with Qi—he would enter it someday.

Five hundred Spirit Crystals... over twenty years...

For an ordinary laborer, it was a dream from which one never awoke.

But for Chen Ping, who possessed the Jade Pendant... this wasn't a dream. It was a goal he could actually reach.

Chen Ping’s eyes regained their firmness.

Hundred Herb Garden! He was going to the Hundred Herb Garden!

There were spirit herbs there. As long as he could come into contact with them—as long as he could utilize the Jade Pendant space—there would be shortcuts available.

Whether by consuming them himself to increase his strength or finding ways to exchange them for Spirit Stones...

Five Spirit Stones weren't as impossible as he imagined.

He stopped looking toward the unreachable Immortal Sect gate. Tightening his grip on the bundle in his arms, he identified the direction and headed toward the Back Mountain.

His footsteps were heavy and firm once again.

The Back Mountain of the Servant Peak had relatively gentle terrain. The air here felt much fresher, lacking both the scorching heat and the choking dust of the mining areas.

He followed a well-trodden path for about half an hour until an area enclosed by low stone walls appeared before him.

The walls weren't tall, but they were densely covered with moss and climbing vines.

Even from outside the walls, a scent drifted out—far richer and more complex than the Purifying Grass in his Jade Pendant. It was a fragrance that blended the sharp tang of vegetation with the deep, loamy smell of earth.

It was overwhelming.

The fragrance didn't just smell good; it refreshed the heart and gladdened the mind.

It contained a peculiar vitality, a trace of active life force. Even a single breath seemed to invigorate him.

This... was the Hundred Herb Garden.

And this was the starting point where he, Chen Ping, would truly step onto the Immortal Path.