The Moment One Attains the Dao, Even Chickens and Dogs Soar to Heaven!

The next day, dawn had barely broken.

In the firewood shed courtyard, the morning mist had yet to disperse when Su Haoran finished another round of cultivation with the "Meditation Scripture."

A night of breathing exercises had swept away the lingering fatigue from yesterday's assessment. His spirit and Qi and Blood brimmed full, and every inch of him seemed to overflow with inexhaustible strength.

Just as he was about to perform a set of Arhat Fist to thoroughly sort out his surging Qi and Blood, familiar footsteps sounded outside the courtyard gate.

Knock, knock.

The knocking was soft, carrying a polite air of goodwill.

"Junior Brother Haoran, it's me, Cao Yi."

Hearing this, Su Haoran withdrew his stance and stepped forward to open the door.

Outside stood Cao Yi, dressed in the black monk robe of an official Martial Monk, looking bright and energetic.

In his hands, he held a neatly folded set of monk robes in the same style, along with a small wooden token.

"Senior Brother Cao." Su Haoran pressed his palms together in salute.

"No need for such ceremony." Cao Yi smiled and handed him the items. "I came to bring you these. From today onward, you're a proper Martial Monk of Prajna Temple. It's time to change out of that gray laborer's robe."

The smile on his face was sincere and gratified. "You brat, you really gave me a heaven-shaking surprise! The whole Labor Courtyard has gone mad with gossip. They're saying our courtyard produced a fierce man, someone who earned top marks in all three assessments and stunned those Martial Monk Courtyard disciples who always looked down their noses at everyone! Hahaha, that felt good!"

Cao Yi was genuinely delighted. Back then, he had merely appreciated talent and lent a hand in passing. He had never expected Su Haoran to win him back such tremendous face.

Su Haoran accepted the monk robe and token. They felt slightly heavy in his hands. The front of the token bore the raised character for "Martial," while the back was engraved with his Dharma name: Haoran.

"Thank you for your support, Senior Brother," he said calmly, neither claiming credit nor acting excessively humble.

Cao Yi waved a hand, admiring his steady attitude all the more. "Oh, there are a few more things I need to tell you. Once you become a Martial Monk, the temple issues you three things. First, your residence. You need to register again at the Affairs Hall. By the rules, you should move to the Martial Monk Courtyard. The environment and provisions there are a hundred times better than here."

"Second, a weapon. Every Martial Monk is issued a monk's knife, which you must collect yourself from the Weaponry Courtyard. Third, and most importantly..." Cao Yi's tone turned solemn. "You may go to the Scripture Repository and select any one martial art from the first floor to cultivate. This is a privilege reserved for official Martial Monks. You must seize it well!"

Su Haoran's heart stirred. These three things, especially the last, were undoubtedly tremendous news to him.

"I'll remember that." He nodded.

"Good. Change your clothes first, then. I won't disturb you any longer. If you encounter any difficulties in cultivation later, you can come find me at the Martial Monk Courtyard anytime." Cao Yi offered a few more words of encouragement before turning to leave.

Su Haoran shut the firewood shed door and unfolded the brand-new black monk robe.

The cloth was thick, the stitching fine—far beyond comparison with the faded gray robe he wore.

He changed into it swiftly, and his entire bearing transformed.

His former delicate restraint, accented by this fitted outfit, immediately gained several degrees of sharpness and competence.

The figure in the mirror had sword-like brows, starry eyes, and a tall, straight frame. He already possessed something of an expert's bearing.

After tying the token that represented his identity at his waist, Su Haoran took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and headed up the mountain toward the Affairs Hall.

As he made his way upward from the remote firewood shed courtyard, Su Haoran immediately felt the vast difference his changed status had brought.

In the past, when he walked along the road, other monks would generally treat him as if he were invisible unless absolutely necessary.

But today, whenever Sweeping Monks approaching from the opposite direction recognized the black monk robe on him and the token at his waist, they all stopped several paces in advance, bowed at the roadside with palms pressed together, and addressed him as "Senior Brother." Only after he had passed did they dare straighten up and continue on.

Their eyes held awe, envy, and a profound sense of distance.

An invisible wall had already completely separated him from his former identity.

By the time he reached the mountainside, more pilgrims had begun to appear.

Prajna Temple enjoyed flourishing incense offerings. Even in this Chaotic World, many faithful men and women still came to burn incense and pray for blessings.

When those pilgrims saw Su Haoran in his black monk robe, they too stopped one after another, pressed their palms together, and respectfully greeted him. "Greetings, Master."

Su Haoran returned each salute with joined palms. His expression remained calm, and no ripples stirred in his heart.

He could even sense several young women who had come to offer incense with their elders secretly casting glances his way. Their gazes were burning, bold, and filled with undisguised admiration.

In this Chaotic World, a powerful and young Martial Monk from a renowned righteous sect undoubtedly possessed immense appeal to ordinary women.

The moment one attains the Dao, even chickens and dogs soar to heaven. Su Haoran mocked himself inwardly, but his steps did not pause in the slightest.

He knew very well that all this respect and admiration did not come from Su Haoran himself. It came from the identity of a Martial Monk, and from the strength he had displayed yesterday at the training grounds.

Without strength, he would still be that laborer starving in the firewood shed, liable to be thrown out at any moment.

Before long, he arrived at the Affairs Hall.

The monk responsible for registration was a Scripture Monk around forty years old, whose attitude was neither warm nor cold.

Su Haoran handed over his token.

The Scripture Monk glanced at it, nodded, and took out a thick register. "Su Haoran, right? There's still an empty meditation room in the C section of the Martial Monk Courtyard. I'll register it for you. Take this slip and go over yourself."

"Thank you, Senior Brother." Su Haoran thanked him, but instead of accepting the slip, he said, "However, I would like to apply not to live in the Martial Monk Courtyard. I wish to remain in the original firewood shed."

"What?" The Scripture Monk raised his head and looked at him in surprise. "Have you thought this through? The meditation rooms in the Martial Monk Courtyard are cleaned every day, and the monthly allowance and provisions are far beyond anything in the Labor Courtyard. Why would you... seek hardship for yourself?"

To him, this behavior was simply incomprehensible.

Countless laborers would squeeze their heads bloody just for a chance to live in the Martial Monk Courtyard, yet this man wanted to give up the opportunity after receiving it.

"I'm used to living there. The firewood shed is secluded and undisturbed, which is more beneficial to my cultivation." Su Haoran's reason was simple and direct.

There were too many people in the Martial Monk Courtyard. He carried the secret of the system panel, and his cultivation speed far surpassed ordinary people's. A place as overlooked as the firewood shed was the best choice.

The Scripture Monk frowned. Seeing Su Haoran's resolute gaze and that he did not seem to be pretending, he pondered for a moment before finally nodding. "Very well. Since you insist, I'll record it for you. But don't say I didn't warn you—if you regret it later, you won't get such a good opportunity again."

He crossed out "C-section meditation room" in the register and added "resides in the firewood courtyard" after Su Haoran's name.

With that matter settled, Su Haoran turned and left, heading straight for his next destination—the Weaponry Courtyard.

The Weaponry Courtyard lay behind the Martial Monk Courtyard, a vast compound built from blue stone. The clanging of iron being forged could be heard there throughout the day.

The air was filled with the distinctive scent of rust mingled with tung oil.

After Su Haoran showed his token and explained his purpose, a broad-shouldered Forge Monk led him into an armory.

Inside, rows of weapon racks held neatly arranged standard-issue monk's knives, meditation staffs, and cudgels.

The Forge Monk took down a monk's knife and handed it to Su Haoran, speaking in a deep, booming voice. "New Junior Brother, this is your blade. Prajna Temple's monk's knives are forged from hundred-tempered steel mixed with three qian of cold iron ore. They can slice a hair blown against the edge and sever strands of hair with ease. If you haven't learned blade techniques, it's best to keep it sheathed in daily life. Be careful not to hurt yourself."

Su Haoran accepted the monk's knife. It felt heavy in his hand, weighing roughly seven or eight jin.

The blade was long and narrow, its curve elegant. Even beneath the dim light of the armory, it gleamed with a chilling cold radiance.

He lightly flicked the edge with his thumb. With a hum, it gave a clear, lingering ring, proving that the material was excellent.

"Good blade," Su Haoran praised.

Seeing that he seemed quite knowledgeable, the Forge Monk's face showed a trace of pride.

Yet in the next moment, that pride turned into astonishment.

Su Haoran held the blade in his left hand, raised the back of his right hand, and actually drew the sharp edge lightly across his own skin!

"You—!" The Forge Monk was shocked and was about to cry out to stop him.

Sss—

An extremely faint sound rang out, like fabric being torn.

As the blade passed over it, only a shallow white mark remained on the back of Su Haoran's hand. Not even the outer layer of skin had been broken!

Martial Art: Iron Cloth Shirt (Major Accomplishment 45%)

At Major Accomplishment, the Iron Cloth Shirt made his skin and flesh tough. With his Qi and Blood surging, he no longer feared ordinary blades and swords.

Though this monk's knife was sharp, it could not break through his defense.

The Forge Monk's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He stared fixedly at the back of Su Haoran's hand, then looked at the monk's knife in his own hand, as though he had seen a ghost.

"You... you?!" he stammered.

Anyone who could enter the Weaponry Courtyard possessed at least some discernment.

He knew perfectly well just how difficult it was to emerge unharmed when a blade struck the body!

Yet this young man before him looked only eighteen or nineteen. How could he possess such profound external cultivation?

Su Haoran did not answer. He merely smiled faintly, sheathed the monk's knife, and hung it at his waist.

The weapon held little practical value for him in actual combat, but it was also a symbol of his Martial Monk status. He could not go without it.

"Thank you, Senior Brother."

He pressed his palms together toward the Forge Monk, who was still immersed in shock, then turned and strode away, leaving only a tall, straight back behind him.

Today's final stop, and the most important one—the Scripture Repository!