After a moment of mental wandering, Mo Fan's thoughts quickly returned to reality.
He quietly latched the door bolt, hid the heavy bag of Spirit Stones, and sat back down at the scarred wooden table. The oil lamp flickered like a bean, illuminating his face in shifting light and shadow.
The excitement belonged to others; only strength was truly his own.
As that sense of achievement from "raising a prodigy" gradually faded, an urgent sense of crisis crept back into his heart. Mo Fan summoned his System Panel, examining his "account statement" from this period.
These past days, he'd spent all his energy paving the way for A-Song while his own cultivation progress had nearly stagnated.
[ Level: LV. 4 (410/1600) ]
[ Soul Strength (CPU): 35.5 ]
"Marking time in place..."
Mo Fan sighed. Although LV. 4 corresponded to mid-stage Qi Condensation, combined with top-grade equipment and undead creatures, he had self-preservation power at the outer sect's bottom level. But compared to those lofty cloud heights, he was still just a slightly stronger ant.
He glanced at the System's capacity bar:
Summon No. 001 (Mo Yan): Elite swordsman template, jade bone body. After repairs, combat power had increased rather than decreased—absolute main DPS. Capacity usage: 20.
Summon No. 003 (Shadow Leopard): Assembled assassin template, Shadow Leopard remains + Demon-Eye Rabbit hind legs. Positioned as stealth assassin and crowd control. Capacity usage: 10.
35.5 - 20 - 10 = 5.5.
"The remaining capacity is only enough for two cannon fodder skeletons."
Mo Fan's fingers lightly tapped the table. This configuration might suffice in the servant quarters, but if he wanted to explore deeper areas or face potentially greater future crises, it clearly wasn't enough.
Must level up.
Must quickly grind levels to unlock more capacity and build a true undead legion.
"However, before that, I need to extract myself from this pile of worldly affairs."
Mo Fan glanced outside the window. Right now he was a celebrity—if he didn't handle his "mundane" identity properly, even going to the cliff bottom to level up wouldn't be peaceful.
Next morning.
Mo Fan didn't go to the waste materials area to check in as usual. Instead, he changed into slightly more respectable clothes, carried two bottles of "Drunken Immortal Wine" he'd specifically bought at the market square last night (though diluted low-grade versions, still rare good wine for mortals), and headed straight for the servant quarters' steward's office.
Before even entering the courtyard, he could sense an unusually festive atmosphere.
The steward's office, usually gloomy and constantly echoing with curses and whip cracks, was today decorated with lanterns and colored banners. Several normally fierce lackeys were diligently sweeping the courtyard. Seeing Mo Fan approach, they incredibly broke into smiles and even proactively cupped their hands, calling out "Seventh Brother."
How quickly the world changed.
Mo Fan entered the main hall to see Steward Wang sprawled in his grand master's chair, holding a teacup wreathed in spiritual energy mist, humming an unknown ditty, his plump face glowing red with satisfaction.
No wonder.
News of A-Song being accepted as the Sect Master's disciple had spread. As the "perceptive" "great contributor" who hadn't embezzled A-Song's quota, Steward Wang had been receiving gifts hand over fist these past days. Reportedly, even inner sect elders had commended him.
This was genuine political achievement.
"Well, if it isn't Xiaoqi?"
Seeing Mo Fan enter, Steward Wang didn't put on airs but warmly set down his teacup. "Come, come, sit! Your leg just healed—don't tire yourself."
"Your Excellency is too kind to this humble one."
Mo Fan looked appropriately frightened and took the opportunity to place the two bottles of good wine on the table. "This humble one heard Your Excellency has been riding high on fortune lately and specially bought some wine to share in your good luck."
"Haha! You boy, always so sensible!"
Steward Wang glanced at the two bottles. Though not worth much, this attitude greatly pleased him.
"Your Excellency."
Mo Fan rubbed his hands together, showing a perfectly measured expression of fatigue and bitterness. "Actually, this humble one came today also to ask a favor."
"Speak!" Steward Wang waved his hand magnanimously.
"A-Song has made good, and as his elder brother, my heart is both happy and... empty."
Mo Fan sighed, eyes dimming. "Moreover, as Your Excellency knows, there have been too many rumors outside lately, with people even blocking my door daily. My status is lowly—I truly can't bear such great attention. My heart is... anxious."
"I'd like... to request extended leave."
Mo Fan raised his head, eyes earnest. "I want to go to the back mountains to find somewhere quiet to hide, clear my mind, and recuperate my body. As for the servant duties..."
"I thought it was something major!"
Before Mo Fan could finish, Steward Wang laughed.
He now found Mo Fan increasingly agreeable.
Why?
Because Mo Fan was the only person who knew the truth, the only one who could expose his "credit-stealing" lie. Now that Mo Fan proactively proposed to "hide away" and "clear his mind," disappearing from public view, this was exactly what Steward Wang wished for!
As long as Mo Fan wasn't around, his persona as "A-Song's benefactor" would stand even more firmly.
"Approved!"
Steward Wang slapped the table, very decisively. "You've indeed worked hard. Breaking your leg and raising a child these past days—you should rest well."
Speaking, as if remembering something, his eyes rolled. He pulled out a bronze waist token from his belt and directly tossed it to Mo Fan.
"Catch."
Mo Fan instinctively caught it—cool to the touch, engraved with the characters "Deputy Steward."
"Don't call yourself a servant anymore—it's beneath you!"
Steward Wang picked up his teacup, took a sip, his tone revealing a superior air of bestowing favor. "After all, you're the Sect Master's disciple's family. Continuing to chop wood and carry water would shame the sect and shame me."
"From today forward, you're the deputy steward of this servant quarter district."
"I'll arrange for people below to handle the specific work—you needn't worry. You just hold the title and come collect 2 low-grade Spirit Stones monthly salary from me."
"This..."
Mo Fan paused, genuinely surprised this time.
A sinecure?
Not only no work but also getting paid?
"What? Too little?" Steward Wang raised an eyebrow.
"No, no, no! Thank you for your patronage, Your Excellency! Thank you!"
Mo Fan immediately showed extreme gratitude, clutching the waist token tightly. "This humble one... will certainly keep his mouth shut and cause Your Excellency no trouble!"
"Go on, go on."
Steward Wang waved his hand with satisfaction. "Clear your mind well. If you run out of money, come find me again."
Walking out of the steward's office, the sunlight was just right.
Mo Fan tossed the bronze waist token representing power in his hand, the smile on his lips gradually becoming meaningful.
"Deputy steward..."
From lowly bottom-tier beast of burden servant to a low-level manager drawing salary without working. This was the true portrayal of "when one person attains the Dao, even chickens and dogs ascend to heaven."
Though 2 Spirit Stones meant nothing to his current wealth, this identity was too important.
It meant he possessed legitimate "discretionary time," the privilege of not working yet not being expelled from the sect, and could even straighten his back slightly when facing ordinary outer sect disciples.
"All worries completely resolved."
Mo Fan hung the waist token at his waist, gaze turning toward the distant mountains.
Mundane matters handled, interpersonal relationship web woven.
Next.
"Time to handle real business."