Let me make one thing clear:
I didn't choose to join a sect.
I was recruited… after running from a pig.
And not just any pig — a spiritual boar that headbutted me through three trees and used my face as a mop.
So yeah, I wasn't exactly in "genius disciple" shape when I limped into Ironroot Sect's recruitment tent.
---
A wrinkled elder with an overgrown mustache looked me over.
"You smell like fear and mold," he said.
"I call it survival cologne."
He raised a brow. "Name?"
"Arin. Just Arin."
He flipped through some scrolls, frowned, then scribbled my name under a list labeled:
> 'Outer Sect: Cleaning Staff (Backup)'
"Wait—cleaning staff? I thought this was a cultivation sect!"
"We believe in starting from the bottom," he said. "Very bottom."
---
> [System Notification:]
Host has joined Ironroot Sect.
[System recommends staying alive.]
[Bonus Quest Activated:]
Sweep the Training Hall without dying.
Reward: Slight increase in Respect Stat (currently: 0).
Penalty: Further loss of self-esteem.
I sighed.
There I was, the great protagonist of my own story, clutching a broomstick while inner disciples shot fireballs past my head.
One of them laughed. "Hey! New guy! You missed a spot."
"Yeah," I muttered, "your attitude."
---
Later that night, I curled up under a leaky roof, chewing my last moldy biscuit like it was a feast.
Just as I closed my eyes—
> [System Message:]
Emergency Side Quest:
Target: Retrieve Elder Zhan's missing chamber pot.
Location: Outer woods. Possibly near a Spirit Beast nest.
Time Limit: 1 hour.
Reward: 1 mysterious pill. (Possibly expired.)
"What kind of hell-tier RPG am I in?!"
> [Host accepted terms and conditions upon death.]
"No, I didn't! I didn't even get to read the terms!"
> [They were on fire at the time.]
---
Still, I went. Why? Because I was broke, biscuitless, and being watched by a sentient rock named Larry (don't ask).
In the woods, I found the chamber pot… and also found three glowing eyes in the dark.
A low growl.
A spirit wolf stepped forward, eyes blazing like someone stole its lunch money.
> [System Suggestion:]
RUN.
I screamed, grabbed the pot, and ran like I was being chased by divine tax collectors.
And you know what?
I survived.
Barely.
With the pot.
Covered in… never mind.
---
Back at the sect, the elder nodded at my return.
"You have potential," he said.
"Really?"
"Yes. You brought back the pot."
"That's… your definition of potential?"
"Welcome to Ironroot."
---
That night, while cleaning spirit toilets and wondering how my life had fallen apart, I heard the system mutter something:
> [Host has potential. Corrupt system file recommends manipulation. Uploading fake gift file…]
Wait… what was that?
> [Nothing. Please enjoy your expired healing pill.]
I narrowed my eyes.
This system wasn't just trash…
It was scheming.
And so was I.