邪神之道 B1

The Seven Rivers Sect, nestled among verdant mountains, always bustled with aspiring cultivators. Yet, at the foot of its first mountain, stood a figure who seemed an anomaly. Ye Gui Feng, clad in plain robes, bore a disheartened sigh as an outer sect disciple, robe billowing behind him, delivered the news.
"Congratulations on reaching the 0.5th level of Qi Condensation."
Ye Gui Feng could only stare blankly. Five years of painstaking effort, and this was his reward. The senior disciple, struggling to hide a pitying expression, patted his shoulder.
"Look, I know this might be harsh, but until you reach the appropriate levels, you'll have to continue working in the kitchen of the sect. Here's your identity medallion back."
With a whoosh, the senior disciple was gone, soaring on his flying sword towards the distant peak. Ye Gui Feng, shoulders slumped, shuffled towards the familiar kitchen area, the bitter taste of reality in his mouth. "This may as well be just slightly above a mortal..." he muttered, a modern-day curse escaping his lips.