“You’re Adolf Hayes? How old are you?”

In a dim, worn-out hall that looked more like a broken-down temple, a burly man with a bare upper body stared at the thin boy barely five feet tall and asked with a rough voice.

The boy answered carefully, “Reporting to Boss Jack, I’m fourteen this year.”

“What kind of spiritual root do you have?” Jack Andrews asked casually.

Adolf replied, “It’s a five-elemental root.”

The moment Jack heard that, a grin spread across his greasy face. He let out a mocking laugh and said, “So you're one of those money-wasting types, huh? Hahaha…”

“Hahaha…”

The group of sweaty, stinking men around them all burst into loud laughter.

The laughter was loud enough to shake the dust off the beams above.

Jack’s laugh stopped, and the rest followed, like puppets having their strings cut.

*Slap*—Jack’s filthy, oil-slick hand landed on Adolf’s thin shoulder.

“Your Uncle John put in a word. Got some history with me, so I agreed to take you in.”

“Fourteen, not that young anymore. From now on, that water-carrying job on Shouzhufeng is yours.”

“But listen up—every single master and miss on that peak is an immortal. They're the real thing—flying swords and all. You better show some damn respect. If you cross one of 'em, don’t expect to live.”

Adolf tightened his jaw and said quickly, “Yes!”

Jack continued, “There are two places that need water on Shouzhufeng. One—those fancy caves where the immortals live.”

“Second—the kitchen hall us lackeys eat at.”

“They both need a lot of water. You’ll start before dawn and carry till night. No breaks. You stop? That job won’t get done!”

“Got it?” Jack barked.

Adolf nodded. “Got it!”

“Chad, take him around, make sure he knows the route. Can’t afford screw-ups tomorrow, or heads will roll.”

A tall, lean middle-aged man stood and led Adolf Hayes out of the dark hall.

Adolf Hayes—fourteen, born in the outer sect of Taixu Sect. His parents were once outer sect disciples too.Back when Adolf Hayes was just eight, his father, Charles Hayes, was killed by a beast while out chasing some so-called opportunity. Not even a month passed before his mother died under strange circumstances. Then a group of Taixu Sect cultivators barged into their home and cleaned out all the cultivation resources his parents had left behind.

Since then, Adolf had been living under the care of his father’s old friend, John Grant.

At nine, Adolf awakened his spiritual root. During the Taixu Sect’s Awakening Ceremony, he revealed a five-element root—metal, wood, water, fire, and earth all in one.

That’s rare, sure, but also the hardest to cultivate.

In the cultivation world, they call it a “money pit.” To train someone like that, the resources required could easily raise ten—or even dozens—of single-element cultivators.

None of the elders or disciples wanted to take him in. Eventually, Adolf didn’t even make it into the Outer Sect.

Now, John Grant, his age catching up and hopes of reaching enlightenment all but gone, decided to retire and start a family. He couldn’t take care of Adolf anymore, so he pulled some strings to get him a spot in the Shoots of Bamboo Peak’s servant crew in the Inner Sect.

Servant disciples, as the name goes, are just that—servants. Running errands, doing chores.

Even immortals need to eat and deal with daily life—especially those still in the Qi Refining stage who can’t live off spirit energy alone. So all the main peaks of Taixu Sect have their own crews doing everything from cleaning to cooking to odd jobs. And out of all those tasks, carrying water was the roughest.

That’s because the whole peak needed water—lots of it—each and every day.

The water had to be brought from the back mountain’s spring. Only about a mile each way, but the path was steep and rocky. Not easy going.

Adolf chose this suffering himself because he still had hopes of walking the immortal path.

Sure, he was just a servant, but being close to real cultivators meant there might be a chance—just a sliver—of learning a thing or two. Maybe, if luck smiled, he could stumble upon a method of cultivation and get his foot on the path to immortality.

So he asked John to put him here.

As for hardship? Life wasn’t meant to be easy. He wasn’t born with a golden spoon. Who gets to live without struggle?

Chad Kim showed him around Shoots of Bamboo Peak, pointing out two massive water tanks.

Adolf’s task was simple: fill them up daily.

Easier said than done.

To fill those tanks, he had to make at least twenty trips to the spring every day.

For a fourteen-year-old? That was a brutal grind.

“This one’s your room,” Chad Kim said at the end, leading him into a courtyard.

There were six or seven rooms here in all.Every menial disciple had their own room.

After Adolf Hayes took the key and iron chain, he pushed open the door. Inside, it was bare—no bedding, no tools, not even a single blanket.

Good thing it was summer. Sleeping without a quilt wouldn't freeze him.

Only thing there was—a big metal bowl.

"That upfront building is the dining hall!" Chad Kim pointed and said, "Just go eat on time every day. If you're late, nothing's left..."

He didn’t wait for a response. As soon as he finished talking, he turned and rushed off like he had something urgent to do.

Adolf glanced around the barren room again. Still empty.

He shut the door and locked it, then stooped down, picked up two buckets, and started walking toward the mountain at the back.

Technically, he could’ve gone tomorrow.

But better early than late. What if something went wrong tomorrow? At least today he could learn the route, and test how long it’d take to fill two water tanks.

Behind the mountain, a small stream flowed straight from the peak, turning into a narrow waterfall that crashed onto a boulder below, splashing white spray everywhere.

It wasn’t wide—barely a foot across—but steady and never-ending. Enough to supply the whole peak with water.

Beneath the boulder, the water gathered in a shallow pool. The water was crystal clear, and you could see the fine stones at the bottom.

Adolf filled both buckets and hoisted them onto his shoulders.

They were heavy. Real heavy. Each step was a strain; his breath came hard and fast.

It was two li back to the rooms. Took him a full fifteen minutes just to complete one round trip.

With this pace, two maybe three trips per hour. To get in twenty trips... seven or eight hours at least.

Wanting to make tomorrow easier, Adolf made another run.

His goal tonight: five trips.

One.

Two.

Three.

…

Nightfall deepened with every trip.

On the fifth time, just as he stooped down at the water’s edge, something faintly gleamed at the bottom of the pool.

“Huh?”

He squinted.

There it was—half-buried in the sand—a worn, black clay basin reflecting a sliver of moonlight.

Adolf wiped his sweaty forehead.

“Tch… Thought I found some treasure. Turns out it’s just an old basin.”

Still, he shrugged, “No harm in taking it. Good enough for washing clothes or face.”