So this is what a beginner-level quest is! Looks like I have no choice but to go. John Sullivan was just about to ask how to accept it when a floating quest summary popped up before his eyes, with two options below: on the left, "Accept," and on the right, "Decline."

His gaze lingered on "Accept" for a moment, the option turned green, and with a "ding," the system prompted: [Quest accepted successfully. Please read the dossier carefully and make preparations. Wishing you great success.]

John Sullivan snapped back to reality and smiled at Thomas Baker, saying, "Of course I remember. It's just that I've gotten lazy these days while recuperating, and almost forgot about this. I'll set out in a few days."

Thomas Baker nodded and said, "If it's still inconvenient, there's no need to force yourself. Training disciples isn't urgent, and as for eliminating evil, you don't have to do it yourself."

John Sullivan smiled and agreed, but inwardly complained: Senior brother, do you... do you realize you sound exactly like an NPC giving out quests?

The original novel mentioned that all of John Sullivan's affairs, big and small, were handled by his trusted aide James Reed. As long as it didn't involve the protagonist, this kid was always highly efficient and intelligent. The next day, John Sullivan was able to set off.

Before leaving Qingjing Peak, John Sullivan checked his appearance. Dressed in a plain white long robe, with a light cloak and a loose belt, a sword hanging at his left waist, a fan in his right hand—he looked every bit the refined and elegant cultivator.

Absolutely no OOC, perfect!

At the bottom of the long, hundred-step white stone staircase, beside the mountain gate, was the carriage prepared for John Sullivan, along with horses for several accompanying disciples.

John Sullivan: "System, are you kidding me? This is supposed to be a xianxia world, so why aren't we flying on swords when we travel?"

The system replied coolly: [Even in a Harry Potter-style magical world, not every wizard goes out riding a broom. Too ostentatious.]

John Sullivan: "You sure know a lot, huh? Did you used to work over in the Harry Potter world?"

The system displayed a big floating [......] symbol.

In all the years it had been running, John Sullivan was the first person to have the leisure to joke around and try to get chummy with the system.

But, thinking about it, it made sense. This trip down the mountain was for training, and most of these disciples were young and inexperienced, not having found their own "sword" yet. According to the customs of Cangqiong Mountain Sect, when disciples reached a certain level of cultivation, they could go to Wanjian Peak among the twelve peaks to choose a suitable "sword."

They say people choose swords, but in reality, swords also choose people. If someone with no real talent insists on taking a top-grade sword forged from the essence of heaven and earth, it's like a beauty paired with an ugly man, a flower stuck in a pile of manure. Think about it—even the sword wouldn't agree.

Charles Clark's golden finger was activated when he found his own unique sword, "Heart Demon."

John Sullivan got into the carriage. The carriage looked grand but not ostentatious from the outside, and was spacious and comfortable inside, with a small incense burner gently wafting fragrance. After sitting down, he paused, feeling something was off. Suddenly, he flicked his folding fan, lifted the curtain, and looked outside.

No wonder the figure bustling around the carriage just now seemed familiar—it turned out the one being ordered around by everyone was Charles Clark!

Just then, Charles Clark was carrying the last item—John Sullivan's must-have white jade chessboard for every trip—onto the carriage. Looking up and seeing John Sullivan watching him with a complicated expression, he paused slightly and respectfully called out, "Master."

The injuries from John Sullivan's previous scolding had mostly healed, the bruises on his face were gone. Though still young and his features not fully matured, there was already a hint of refined handsomeness in his brows and eyes. His back was straight, and there was a natural uprightness in his movements, nothing like someone who had been oppressed and abused for years on Qingjing Peak.

Even though he was doing menial labor, his attitude was meticulous. That focused and earnest look made it hard not to like him.

Especially for someone like John Sullivan, who already had a bit of a soft spot for the protagonist. He had always liked protagonists who were decisive in killing and kindness, clear in their grudges.

John Sullivan stared at him for a while, let out a "hmm," retracted his fan, and let the curtain fall.

You have to admit, the protagonist is the protagonist. No wonder, even though this kid was down and out, with no background, no prospects, no loving parents, he still had so many female leads lining up to throw themselves at him. Good looks really are the hard currency!

Of course, this also explained why so many fellow disciples couldn't stand him and wanted to beat him up.

Then he thought of something else: Wait a minute. If there are ten disciples going on this trip including Charles Clark, why did I only see nine horses just now? One is missing?

Well, even with your toes you could guess who was behind this.

Sure enough, amid a burst of snickering, James Reed's triumphant voice came from outside the carriage: "We're really short on horses, so you'll have to make do this time, junior brother. Besides, your foundation is weak, so this is a good chance to toughen up."

Short on horses, my ass. Cangqiong Mountain Sect is the number one sect in the cultivation world these years, rolling in wealth—would they be short one horse?

But James Reed was well-versed in the art of cannon fodder self-destruction. After a pause, he added, "What? What's with that look? Not satisfied?"

Charles Clark replied calmly with two words: "Wouldn't dare."

At that moment, a girl's silvery laughter rang out—it seemed Grace Hill had arrived. "Senior brothers, what are you talking about?"