I'm Ye Ping, the "Ping" That Means Ordinary

Qingyun Mountain Range.

The mountain peaks were steep, the rocks oddly shaped, and mist shrouded everything, giving it a rather ethereal feel.

Near the foot of the mountain, two figures broke the tranquility of the forest.

One walked ahead, the other behind.

The one in front was a man in his early forties, wearing a green Daoist robe. His steps were light, and as he moved through the mountains, he didn't pick up a single speck of dust.

The one behind was in his early twenties, with a clean-cut appearance, dressed in a simple white robe. Walking through the mountains, he had the air of a scholar out on a spring outing. The only flaw was that his cloth shoes were caked with mud, making him look a bit out of place.

Perhaps because it had rained a few days earlier, the mountain soil was still a little damp, and stepping on it felt slippery.

Ye Ping walked through the mountains.

Scenes flashed through his mind.

Ye Ping felt he was very unlucky.

Three years ago, he had been an ordinary office worker on Earth, muddling through life under the 996 blessing system.

But an unexpected accident had brought him to a world that resembled ancient times.

Only this world didn't belong to any era—Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming, or Qing.

Instead, it called itself the Immortal Martial Arts Era.

As for himself, he was in a small country called the Jin Kingdom.

At first, whether it was Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming, or Qing didn't matter. With the advantage of being a transmigrator, he figured he wouldn't end up too badly off. And when he thought about how feudal society allowed for three wives and four concubines, his mood suddenly didn't seem so bad.

After all, all pursuits are base compared to study. No matter the era, studying was the most direct way to rise above. To live a good life, Ye Ping threw himself headlong into the ranks of scholars.

Maybe another transmigrator wouldn't have wanted to study, but Ye Ping was different. He really liked studying, because the Jin Kingdom had a rule: any scholar could enjoy ten years of compulsory education. In other words, freeloading made him happy.

Not having to spend money to study and earn a title—how could Ye Ping not be willing?

So, in the three years since he transmigrated, Ye Ping had seriously studied the sages' texts for three years. He could recite the Seven Books and Nine Classics backward and forward, and every sage's saying was etched in his heart. And, leveraging his background as a liberal arts student, he occasionally churned out some peerless verses.

Lines like, "All worldly affairs drift with the flowing water; counting back, a lifetime is but a dream." Or, "Why should a man not bear a hooked sword, to take the fifty provinces of the passes? A single body fights three thousand miles; one sword once faced a million troops."

Of course, these peerless verses had been slightly adapted, since this world didn't have border passes. To fit the scene, modifications were necessary.

And you know what? Thanks to these peerless verses, Ye Ping had gained some fame in the Jin Kingdom.

But just as Ye Ping was full of confidence and about to take the imperial exams, something unexpected happened.

While traveling to the capital for the exams, he saw someone stepping on a flying sword, gliding across the sky, carefree and imposing.

In that instant, Ye Ping suddenly understood.

So this was a cultivation world.

After learning this news, Ye Ping was immediately extremely distressed.

Three years of hard study in a cold window.

Do you know how those three years were spent?

He had thought this was a world for scholars, where everyone could practice martial arts and everyone could read books.

But he never expected this world to be a cultivation world.

Studying in a cultivation world?

Wasn't that a problem with his brain?

Although Ye Ping didn't have grand ambitions, he knew the difference between the cultivation system and the scholarly system.

Even if you became a prince or marquis, in the eyes of a cultivator, you were just a weed, right?

Even if you were a king of a nation, you had to be respectful and deferential to cultivators, right?

So, when he learned this was a cultivation world, Ye Ping abandoned literature for immortality, chasing the elusive path of the immortals.

He thought this process would be very long.

But unexpectedly, cultivators in this world weren't rare at all. On the contrary, they were as numerous as oxen hairs.

Within a month, Ye Ping had participated in four or five Ascension Conventions.

In this cultivation world, sects were as numerous as oxen hairs, and these sects were very diligent, holding Ascension Conventions every year to recruit disciples. Anyone with a bit of spiritual root could join a sect.

And after participating in nearly fifty Ascension Conventions, Ye Ping found himself blacklisted by all the major sects in Qingzhou. Only then did he discover that he had a No Spiritual Roots physique.

It wasn't a rare physique; it was the worst, worst, worst, worst kind.

This kind of physique was generally called trash.

But after learning he had the worst physique, Ye Ping wasn't sad or upset at all. On the contrary, he was very happy.

Wasn't this the classic start of a young master novel?

The worse the start, the higher the future achievements, right?

So Ye Ping wasn't discouraged at all. Instead, he continued attending various Ascension Conventions. He believed that as long as he could join a sect and get one chance, he would soar to the heavens.

But having No Spiritual Roots was seen as pure garbage in the eyes of the major sects. No sect was willing to accept a cultivator with no spiritual roots.

It was through Ye Ping's unrelenting efforts.

Finally, he met his benefactor.

The middle-aged man before him.

Grand Hua Daoist.

The eighteenth Sect Leader of the Qingyun Dao Sect.

He had spotted Ye Ping in the crowd at a single glance, willing to take him as a disciple and teach him the immortal arts.

The only condition was a probationary period, during which no silver or salary would be given.

In plain terms, no money.

This requirement meant little to Ye Ping, as he didn't care much for such external possessions.

The key was cultivating immortality.

As long as he could cultivate, why fear a lack of money later?

Thinking this, Ye Ping couldn't help but grow nervous.

Amid the mountain stream, clouds and mist billowed, like a celestial realm. A gentle breeze swept through, cleansing the mind and spirit, leaving Ye Ping both tense and hopeful, but above all, filled with awe.

Immortals loomed grand and magnificent in Ye Ping's heart.

Imagine, if one mastered the path of cultivation, riding a flying sword, soaring through the heavens, roaming the Nine Provinces in flowing white robes—how wonderful would that be?

Then add the line: "An immortal strokes my head, binding my hair to receive eternal life."

One word.

Perfect.

And just as Ye Ping's mind wandered.

The eighteenth Sect Leader of the Qingyun Dao Sect, Grand Hua Daoist, was inwardly beaming with joy.

He had gone down the mountain this time to handle some trivial matters.

But unexpectedly, he had brought back a disciple.

The best part was that this disciple was willing to work without pay.

Truly a double blessing.

These days, the competition among sects in Qingzhou was far too intense. Everywhere, they were scrambling for disciples, driving up prices.

Any disciple with even a hint of talent was snatched up by the major sects. Most of those without talent but at least some decent appearance were also fought over. What remained were the scraps.

Scraps were fine, but because the major sects inflated prices, salaries rose higher every year.

Of course, this was also because many knew that without a spiritual root, going to a sect was just doing odd jobs. If they really wanted to learn something, they might as well find a martial arts school to build up their physique—at least that offered some future.

Cultivation wasn't something you could just do and become strong.

If grabbing a manual could make you an immortal, everyone would be above everyone else.

Because of this, the lowest-tier sects might not recruit a single disciple in a whole year, let alone one who asked for no pay.

So Grand Hua Daoist was in a splendid mood.

The only thing that worried him a little was whether the disciples in his sect could pull off the image of lofty experts.

He didn't want this new disciple to run off soon after arriving.

That would be troublesome.

Still, Grand Hua Daoist felt no real guilt. Ye Ping wanted to cultivate but no one would take him. He accepted Ye Ping—mutual consent, nothing wrong. Sure, the sect was poor, but the good sects wouldn't take Ye Ping either.

If there was any guilt, it was over not paying a salary. But Grand Hua Daoist would keep a ledger. Once the sect developed, he could make it up later.

And as Grand Hua Daoist slowly pondered.

The two figures arrived at the mountain gate of the Qingyun Dao Sect.