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What do you mean I'm a cultivator? - Chapter 3
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... His small hands were raw from pulling weeds, and his back ached from bending over rows of medicinal plants. Yet for once, his mind wasn't on the pain or exhaustion. The weight of the cloth pouch against his chest occupied his every thought.
As the setting sun painted the western sky in hues of orange and crimson, the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the day's labor. Cheng's feet carried him swiftly across the outer sect's grounds, to his shabby dwelling on the outermost ring of di ...
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