Arrogant Servant Disciple

The Square-Faced Child hesitated, then looked up at the handyman disciple and asked, "Martial Brother, didn't they say it's three bottles of Foundation Cultivation Pills per person, thirty pills total? I... I only have twenty-seven here."

"Twenty-seven? I packed the pills in these bottles myself—there's no way I made a mistake!" the handyman disciple declared with certainty.

"But there really are only twenty-seven here. If you don't believe me, count them!" the Square-Faced Child said quietly.

"Count what? Can't you see I'm busy? Do you want them or not? If not, hand the pills over and get lost!" The handyman disciple's eyes flew open, and with a bang, he slammed his palm on the table, roaring loudly.

The commotion made the Square-Faced Child flinch. Staring at the tall handyman disciple before him, he hesitated for a moment, then sullenly lowered his head and said nothing more.

Seeing this, the other children also shrank their necks, their smiles freezing on their faces.

Soon after, another square-faced child received his three bottles of pills.

Stepping aside, this square-faced child quickly checked them as well. The moment he looked, his face turned the color of dried plum vegetables.

But after glancing up at the handyman disciple, the square-faced child silently put the pills back into the bottles and kept quiet.

Su Shi'er stood at the back of the crowd, watching everything unfold.

He clearly saw that when the square-faced child poured out the pills from his bottle, there were only twenty-five. Among them, two were waste pills, and the rest were a dull gray—all Low-Grade Spirit Pills.

Su Shi'er frowned slightly but said nothing. Still, this man's behavior reminded him of Ergou's Father back in the village, who always mixed bad grain with good when collecting harvests and skimped on the weight.

Soon, all six children had received their pills.

But after each of them checked their share, all six wore mournful expressions, heads bowed, looking like they dared not speak their anger.

Among these six children, the unluckiest had only received twenty Foundation Cultivation Pills, three of which were waste pills.

Then it was the turn of the second-to-last, Zhu Hanwei.

The handyman disciple glanced at Zhu Hanwei's identity token and casually grabbed three bottles of pills.

"Martial Brother, I'm Zhu Hanwei, the son of Huilong Town's mayor. You've worked hard distributing the pills—here's a small token of my appreciation." Before the handyman disciple could hand over the bottles, Zhu Hanwei smoothly pulled a silver ingot from his chest and placed it on the table with a smile.

The silver was the size of a baby's fist, weighing no small amount—a full fifty taels.

Seeing the silver, a gleam of greed flashed in the handyman disciple's eyes.

Squinting, he raised his hand and, with practiced ease, slipped the silver ingot into his sleeve.

For a handyman disciple like him, cultivation was already a dead end. All he could do was scrape together some money, so that when he eventually left the mountain and returned home, he could enjoy a life of earthly riches.

Turning back to Zhu Hanwei, the handyman disciple wore a smile, his attitude suddenly warm and familiar.

"Little Junior Brother, no need to be so polite. The Peak Master entrusted me with this important task, and I won't let him down."

"You're a good kid. Work hard, and you'll definitely achieve something in the future."

With a few encouraging words and a smile, the handyman disciple pulled three porcelain bottles from his chest and handed them to Zhu Hanwei.

"Rest assured, Martial Brother. If I really do achieve something, I won't forget you." Zhu Hanwei nodded eagerly.

With that, he took the bottles and stepped aside to quickly inspect them.

Among his Foundation Cultivation Pills, two were smooth and glossy—top-grade pills. The rest were bright in color, all mid-grade pills. And there were exactly thirty pills, not one more, not one less.

Watching this scene, the other disciples' eyes went wide with envy, turning red.

Su Shi'er glanced over but felt no envy. The Foundation Cultivation Pills refined by the mysterious Pill Furnace were all supreme-grade pills, countless times more precious than these.

Still, even an ant's leg is meat. These pills were issued by the sect and belonged to him.

By all reason, he had no grounds not to collect them.

Token in hand, Su Shi'er stepped up to the handyman disciple.

By now, the handyman disciple had resumed his usual impatient expression. His eyes quickly scanned the identity token, then he glanced disdainfully at Su Shi'er, pursed his lips, and muttered a remark.

"Su Shi'er? The kid who took over Chen Xi's job watching the Waste Pill Room?"

"You sure are lucky to have survived so long in a place like that! Here, these are your pills." With that, he rolled his eyes, grabbed three pill bottles from the corner of the table, and tossed them roughly to Su Shi'er.

Su Shi'er frowned, a flicker of displeasure rising, but he wasn't here to cause trouble, so he held back.

Taking the bottles, he hesitated for a moment, then opened one to check.

The sight sent a surge of anger rushing through him.

Three bottles of pills, only fifteen Foundation Cultivation Pills in total.

And the most infuriating part was that these fifteen pills were all pitch-black, reeking with a foul stench.

These weren't spirit pills at all—they were clearly waste pills.

In the courtyard, the others were about to leave, but when they saw the pills Su Shi'er had received, one by one they broke into smug, gloating smiles.

They had been a little envious of Zhu Hanwei before. But now, seeing someone far worse off than themselves, their sour mood suddenly felt much better.

"Martial Brother, what's the meaning of this?" Su Shi'er stared at the handyman disciple before him, slapping all the waste pills onto the table.

The mysterious Pill Furnace didn't care whether the pills were waste or not.

But this was a slight he couldn't swallow.

If it were just one or two waste pills, missing two or three, he might have let it slide.

But now, half the pills were gone, and the rest were all waste pills.

He had the mysterious Pill Furnace now, but what if he didn't? These pills could have ruined his Immortal Path!

"What do you mean, brat? Why are you bringing these waste pills to me?" The menial disciple snorted, crossing his arms and retorting.

"Didn't you give me these waste pills?" Su Shi'er frowned, questioning coldly.

"What do you mean I gave them to you? Brat, I think you've lost your mind! This is the Pill Pavilion, not the Waste Pill Room! Trying to frame me? This isn't a place for you to cause trouble!" The menial disciple's expression turned hostile, and he began to threaten.

He wouldn't dare shortchange other disciples too much, but Su Shi'er—a waste guarding the Waste Pill Room—he truly didn't take seriously.

But he never expected Su Shi'er to actually resist and question him in return!

And he had just handed over these waste pills to Su Shi'er, now outright denying it.

This move left Su Shi'er stunned.

Wasn't this just being a shameless scoundrel?

"Cause trouble? If that's how you want to play it, then I'll have to ask the Peak Master to judge this!" Su Shi'er said coldly.

"Ask the Peak Master to judge? You think the Peak Master has time for you?" The menial disciple sneered, looking like he had Su Shi'er cornered.

"The Peak Master might not have time, but I think Senior Sister Xiao Yue should." Su Shi'er didn't back down, speaking calmly.

He didn't want to waste too much time here. Handling this matter through Xiao Yue was undoubtedly the simplest and most convenient way.