[It is mid afternoon, and you see a robed man pass by. You quickly stand up and accost the traveler, thinking he could be a disciple.]

As his simulated self straightened up from the bow, Lem saw the eyebrows of the robed man shoot up in surprise. He could easily see from the man’s reaction that he had not been anticipating him, nor did he have any combat experience.

His hand had not even moved to the sword by his side.

“No, no, you have mistaken me. I am not a martial disciple.” The robed man had an apologetic smile. “I am just checking my traps.”

“Traps,” Lem’s simulated self repeated.

“Yes, yes, my hunting traps! I can see you are not from Lang Town-not that I look down on you.” The robed man hurried to correct himself. “For all I know you are from the city, haha. I ask that you don’t look down on me! But…ah yes, many of us set traps for catching game…”

Lem’s simulated self felt disappointment. “Do you know any disciples?”

“No, no, they are held in too high esteem for townspeople to interact with. It is only for the town head who can see eye-to-eye with the martial schools. And there is the sect deacon who stands above everyone. But we have no complaints, no complaints! They protect us from the beasts, after all.”

“Who is the sect deacon?” Lem’s simulated self was curious. He had never heard of a sect in Lang Town.

“A sect deacon? Ah, I understand what you mean. The deacon is from the Heavenly Treasure Sect. I thought it to be strange as well. If the Surrender Sword Sect is in charge of Pilgrimage City, why would the deacon be from a different sect. The ways of immortals are mysterious-ah, not true immortals, but disciples, I mean!”

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“I see.” Lem’s simulated self did not clarify the misunderstanding, as the new information had filled him with thoughts.

He remembered his purpose and resisted the impulse to ask more questions. “In any case, please relay my message to any of the disciples if you can.”

“Right away!” The robed man turned around, before quickly looking back at Lem’s simulated self. “Ah-your message?”

“Tell them that I know of an extremely potent spiritual herb that is not guarded by any beast. I am willing to trade the secret for a small price.”

“Ah-yes, yes, I will tell them!”

The robed man turned around and hurried back in the direction of the town. As he was running, he quickly repeated. “I will tell them about the spiritual herb!”

[The robed man is surprised, and frightened by your appearance. He immediately denies being a disciple. You are disappointed, but you tell him that you have a secret about a treasure that you are willing to trade to a disciple. You let him leave, and walk back to the side of the road…]

As his simulated self returned to his lookout spot in the forest, Lem was drawing inferences from the words of the robed man.

It appeared that there were many distinctions within the hierarchy of cultivators.

Outside of fantasy stories, he had never heard of a sect before, but it appeared that they were the class of cultivators that stood above martial schools.

Were they the true immortals that the robed man had spoken of?

From his wording, the sect deacon appeared to be in charge of Lang Town, and there was a different sect that controlled Pilgrimage City.

At the very least, a sect must be an extremely powerful force…

Assuming that a deacon was not the strongest member of a sect, were there other sect disciples who were strong enough to kill the ancient beasts the guard had mentioned in the past simulation?

As Lem’s thoughts were spinning out of control, he felt a force render his body immobile.

It felt as though he was being squeezed by an invisible hand, rendering him utterly helpless. His heart nearly leapt out of its chest.

What was happening?

“Die, slave of the Goliath!”