This little beggar was like a leech grown out of a filthy ditch—once he caught the scent of blood, he would desperately latch on and snatch away, vicious to the core—Samuel Foster was competing with him for their master’s favor.

The little beggar seized every opportunity to show off his extraordinary bravery to their master, while also taking every chance to smear his “weak and easily bullied” senior brother. Henry Carter found his antics both ridiculous and amusing, so he imitated that old scholar and gave his fourth junior brother a half-mocking, half-indifferent verdict in his mind: “A gentleman remains steadfast in poverty, a petty man becomes reckless when poor【Note】—little beast, what a thing!”

After hearing about Samuel Foster’s “heroic battle with the weasel demon,” the very next day, Henry Carter witnessed firsthand just how “brave and extraordinary” his little beast of a junior brother really was.

That day, their master was napping under a tree, while Henry Carter sat nearby flipping through an old classic from his master’s basket. The book’s language was convoluted and archaic, and Henry Carter, with his limited learning, recognized hardly any of the scriptures, but he enjoyed it nonetheless and didn’t find it dull—no matter what was written in his master’s books, this was, after all, the first time in his life he could openly touch a book.

Mr. Ethan Clark had picked up two little disciples: one as still as a wooden post, the other as restless as a monkey. The wooden post, Henry Carter, didn’t move a muscle; the monkey, Samuel Foster, couldn’t sit still for even a moment.

At that moment, the monkey Samuel Foster had run off somewhere, and Henry Carter was enjoying the rare peace and quiet. But his tranquility didn’t last long before Samuel Foster came running back, crying and sniffling.

“Master…” Samuel Foster whined and whimpered, trying to act cute.

The master’s response was a delicate, melodious snore.

Samuel Foster continued his wailing, all the while sneaking glances at Henry Carter.

Henry Carter suspected their master was actually awake, just pretending to sleep to see how the brothers would interact. Now that his junior was bawling like this, as the elder brother, he couldn’t just ignore it, so he put down the old scripture and asked kindly, “What’s wrong?”

Samuel Foster: “There’s a river up ahead. I wanted to catch some fish for Master and Senior Brother, but there’s a big dog by the riverbank. It chased me.”

Henry Carter sighed inwardly. He was afraid of fierce dogs too, but seeing Samuel Foster’s shifty eyes and the way he’d set up the story, it was clear: the junior wanted to show filial piety by catching fish for master and brother, but was bullied by a beast and now wanted his senior to step in. How could the senior brother back down?

He had no choice but to pick up a large stone from the ground, weigh it in his hand, and stand up to follow Samuel Foster to the riverbank, still speaking gently: “Alright, I’ll go take a look with you.”

Henry Carter was prepared—if they really ran into a vicious dog, he’d smash the stone on his junior’s head, determined to turn the little beast into a split-open melon, and then let the dog deal with him.

Unfortunately, when they reached the riverbank, the dog was already gone, leaving only a few small paw prints on the ground.

Henry Carter bent down to study the tracks and estimated that the “vicious dog” was less than a foot long—probably just a clumsy little stray puppy.

Samuel Foster, this little beast, was useless at everything, insatiable, shamelessly currying favor, thick-skinned, timid as a needle’s eye, but could brag up a storm—always scheming for attention.

Thinking this, Henry Carter put his hands with the brick behind his back and looked at his utterly useless junior brother with a gentle expression, no longer wanting to smash him—Henry Carter couldn’t be bothered to stoop to his level.

The two of them carried the fish they’d caught and hurried back. Their master was already “awake,” watching them with a kindly, gratified smile.

As soon as Henry Carter met his master’s gaze, he felt a heavy, unspeakable nausea in his stomach.

Before he could say anything, Samuel Foster had already sidled up obsequiously and, embellishing the tale, told their master a story of “how Senior Brother wanted to eat fish, how he himself defeated a dog as big as an ox, and how he braved countless hardships to catch fish in the river.”

Henry Carter: “……”

He was about to be driven to laughter by this prodigiously gifted junior brother.

And so, Henry Carter traveled for more than ten days with an old trickster and a little braggart.

The three of them finally arrived at the sect.

It was the first time in Henry Carter’s life he’d left home and traveled far. Thanks to his eccentric master and junior brother, he’d witnessed many strange sights and had already developed a certain composure, unshaken even by the collapse of mountains.

He hadn’t held out much hope for a place called “Fuyao Sect”—the name alone sounded like some ramshackle troupe. He thought, maybe it was just a rundown, windswept temple in the wilderness, where you’d have to burn incense and kowtow to a “founder” who dressed decently but always wore a smile.

But the sect far exceeded Henry Carter’s expectations.

He saw that the Fuyao Sect occupied a small mountain all to itself, the mountain surrounded on three sides by water. Looking up from the foot of the mountain, the green waves of the forest surged like fury, the wind leaving visible traces.

Amid the chirping of insects and birds, there were occasionally a few crane calls, and sometimes a fleeting glimpse of white would flash by, instantly lending the place an ethereal, otherworldly aura.

There were gentle stone steps in the mountain, clearly swept regularly. A small stream flowed down from the mountaintop, murmuring softly.

Climbing the steps halfway up the mountain, Henry Carter saw the vague outlines of courtyards and residences at the summit. On the mountainside stood an ancient, moss-covered stone gate, upon which the words “Fuyao” were inscribed in bold, flowing script.