Mortal Bones, You Are Not Worthy of Advancing

Wang Batan was a Good-for-Nothing with an ordinary mortal body. When the morning bell of the Tianxuan Sect rang for the third time, he had already made seven trips to the mountain stream with buckets slung over his shoulders.

Dew made the flagstone steps slippery. With every step uphill, his straw sandals scraped as though they could barely bear the strain. The two half-man-high wooden buckets were filled with spring water. It sloshed violently with each step, yet miraculously not a single drop spilled. This was a skill he had mastered over three years of menial labor, and the one thing worth praising about his “mortal bones.”

“Out of the way! Are you blind?”