Su Ming didn’t hesitate in the slightest. He directly upended one of the boxes onto the floor.

With a crash, countless bamboo scrolls, account books, and scattered slips of paper, mixed with dust and the smell of mildew, spread across the ground.

A suppressed snicker came from the disciples outside.

Amateur!

A real accountant would examine the ledgers scroll by scroll. Who would treat account books so roughly?

Su Ming paid no attention to the surrounding gazes.

He crouched down, his hands moving like phantoms, rapidly sorting through the pile of old papers.

“What is he doing?” Mingyue whispered.

Qingfeng couldn’t understand either, frowning and staring intently.

Su Ming’s hands never stopped moving, and he was even muttering under his breath, his voice so low that others couldn’t make out the words.

“Year of Jiazi, seventh month, Green Dew Grass, three hundred and twelve catties, entered Warehouse Bing-7…”

“Year of Jiazi, eighth month, Fire Sun Flower, ninety-seven plants, entered Warehouse Jia-3…”

“Year of Yichou, first month, Red-Tailed Rooster Inner Cores, three missing, recorded as bad debt…”

He wasn’t using counting rods. He wasn’t using paper or brush.

All the accounts were being calculated, categorized, and consolidated at lightning speed within his mind.

He divided the account books on the floor into several distinct piles.

On his left side were the monthly total entry ledgers.

On his right side were the detailed accounts sorted by medicinal herb type.

Directly in front were those slips and notes with messy handwriting and unclear figures.

The entire process flowed smoothly, without the slightest hesitation.

At first, the disciples outside the quiet room watched with a mentality of waiting for a joke.

But gradually, their smiles froze.

That young man’s speed was too fast!

Fast beyond reason!

They couldn’t even clearly see the youth’s fingers flipping through the bamboo scrolls, only catching a blur of afterimages.

The mountain-like pile of accounts visibly decreased at a rapid pace.

Meanwhile, the several piles of sorted ledgers on the ground grew taller and neater.

Half an hour passed.

Su Ming placed down the last bamboo scroll.

He stood up, patted the dust off his hands, and bowed deeply towards Elder Ma, who was still sitting cross-legged.

“Elder, the mission has been accomplished without dishonor.”

The quiet room fell into absolute silence.

Everyone looked at the floor.

The originally chaotic and disorderly scene had become perfectly organized.

The seven large boxes of account books had been sorted and organized by him into thirty-six scrolls of varying thickness.

On the cover of each scroll, clear labels were written in charcoal.

“Total Entry Ledger, Year of Jiazi, Seventh Month.”

“Category Ledger for Spirit Herb ‘Green Dew Grass’.”

“Record of Questionable Bad Debts.”

…

The handwriting was elegant, the organization clear and easy to understand at a glance.

The middle-aged steward’s mouth hung open wide enough to fit an egg.

He rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what he was seeing.

This… how was this possible?

Two disciples couldn’t make sense of this mess of accounts in half a month, yet this kid managed it in less than an hour?

Elder Ma slowly opened his eyes. A genuine glint of light flashed for the first time in his murky pupils.

He didn’t speak, merely lifting his chin towards the middle-aged steward.

“Go. Check.”

“Yes… yes!”

The middle-aged steward snapped out of his daze. He hurriedly called two disciples and, flustered, picked up the organized scrolls one by one to begin verification.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on their foreheads.

At first, they intended to find fault, to pick out errors or omissions.

But the more they checked, the more shocked they became.

Not a single discrepancy!

Every entry, every expenditure, matched perfectly!

Those fractional amounts that were originally mixed together and impossible to calculate clearly had all been accounted for by Su Ming using a method they didn’t understand, but which yielded exceptionally accurate results!

“Elder…”

After the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the middle-aged steward’s voice carried a slight tremor, his face filled with disbelief.

“The… the accounts, they all match!”

These words caused a wave of astonishment throughout the room!

Qingfeng and Mingyue exchanged a glance, both seeing shock in the other’s eyes.

“You, are quite good.”

Elder Ma slowly nodded, delivering the final verdict.

“From today onward, you are a menial disciple of my Cloud Hidden Sect.”

Hearing this, the massive boulder in Su Ming’s heart finally settled completely.

He bowed deeply again, his voice steady.

“Thank you, Elder.”

He knew that from this moment on, he finally had a place to set foot in this immortal world.

Even if it was only the lowest, most insignificant menial post.

For him, it was already enough.

…

Half an hour later.

Su Ming followed a disciple from the External Affairs Hall to complete the sect entry procedures.

He signed a special contract.

It wasn’t made of paper, but a thin scroll crafted from some kind of beast hide, densely covered in terms written in cinnabar.

When he bit his fingertip and pressed a drop of blood onto the end of the contract, the drop was instantly absorbed by the hide, transforming into a mysterious rune that flashed and vanished.

An intangible feeling of restraint, originating from the rules of heaven and earth, settled upon his soul.

“This is the ‘Menial Contract,’ witnessed by the sect’s grand formation. No one can violate it.”

The one guiding him was precisely the young disciple who had seemed somewhat arrogant inside the hall earlier.

“You must remember the rules on this contract clearly.”

“First, menial disciples are forbidden from privately teaching or cultivating sect cultivation methods. If discovered, cultivation will be abolished, and you will be expelled from the sect.”

“Second, you must not spy on the secret areas of the various peaks, nor trespass into important places like the Transmission Pavilion or Pill Refining Room.”

“Third, you must complete the tasks assigned daily by the External Affairs Hall and cannot be absent without reason.”

“Fourth, and this is the most important one.” The young disciple lowered his voice. “Menial disciples must labor within the sect for a full five years before they are eligible to take the assessment for outer sect disciples. If they fail the assessment, they must wait another five years.”

For ordinary cultivators, five years was but the snap of a finger.

But for a menial laborer of mortal origin, hoping to exchange hard labor for an opportunity, five years was enough to grind away all sharpness and hope.

The young disciple expected Su Ming to show disappointment or resentment.

However, Su Ming’s face held only calmness.

Five years?

Excellent.

An ignored menial laborer, hiding at the very bottom of the sect, cultivating safely and steadily for five years.

Could there be a start more perfectly aligned with the essence of the Way of Survival?

“Thank you for the guidance, Senior Brother. I will remember it.” Su Ming gave him a gentle smile.

“You’re welcome, you’re welcome.” The young disciple hurriedly waved his hands.

He handed Su Ming a palm-sized gray wooden token and two sets of coarse gray Daoist robes.

“Junior Brother Su, this is your identity token and menial attire. With this token, you can move through most areas of Guiding Peak. Each month, you can also collect three catties of spiritual rice and some fasting pills from the kitchen.”

Su Ming took the heavy wooden token.

The token felt warm and smooth to the touch. The front was carved with the characters “Cloud Hidden.” The back had the character “Menial,” along with a string of unique numbers.

He neatly folded the two sets of gray cloth clothes and held them in his arms.

From this moment on, he was no longer the Hanlin Compiler of the Great Xing Dynasty, nor a fugitive being hunted.

He was Su Ming, the most ordinary, most insignificant menial disciple of the Cloud Hidden Sect.

“Junior Brother Su, I’ll take you to your residence.”

“Your residence is arranged in Courtyard D-7. It’s relatively quiet there.”

Su Ming followed the young disciple, heading downward.

The further down they went, the thinner the spiritual energy in the air became.

By the time they reached the foot of Guiding Peak, the concentration of spiritual energy was less than one-tenth of what it was at the bamboo hut halfway up the mountain where he had recovered.

But even so, it was still far more abundant than the mortal world.

Ahead, a cluster of orderly arranged courtyards appeared.

These courtyards were mostly built from green stone and wood, simple in style. Compared to the immortal halls and palaces atop the mountain, they were practically slums.

This was the settlement area for the tens of thousands of menial disciples of the Cloud Hidden Sect.

The young disciple led Su Ming to a relatively secluded courtyard.

A wooden plaque reading “D-7” hung on the gate.

“Junior Brother Su, this is it.” He pushed open the courtyard gate. “This courtyard houses four people, one room each. You’ve come at a good time; there’s just one empty east wing room left.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep