The group were all stunned. They hurried over to nominate him as the Grand Marshal, and even managed to get a meal. But in the end, they had to work for nothing—building eight secondary halls no less grand than the main hall. That wasn’t an easy task. Though everyone was a cultivator with abilities surpassing ordinary people, cultivators weren’t born with the skills of masons. Who among them had ever learned to build houses from birth? The peak cultivator carried himself with an air of superiority. In his eyes, since he had become the top leader of the cultivation world, everyone should follow him. Yes, I’ve promised to protect you from the others, but I’m an exception. As the Grand Marshal, it’s my duty to treat the subordinates unfairly. Besides, assigning tasks to you is a sign of respect. The attendant beside him continued in a loud voice: "The Master has instructed that one great hall takes three days, so eight halls would require twenty-four days!" Everyone gasped in astonishment—twenty-four days to complete eight great halls? Was that even possible? "The Master also emphasized that this timeline must be met without delay, so we've decided to give you only sixteen days," the attendant said, maintaining a proud, condescending tone—exactly as one would when scolding a child. One of the gatekeepers spoke cautiously: "This seems extremely challenging. None of us are particularly skilled at this work, and we're certain it will take considerably more time. Why not extend the deadline by a few more days, especially when we're reducing it by eight days?" The attendant responded with firmness: "Look at this main hall—just three days for us, and that was only the strength of our own sect. Now we have twenty-some sects, plus a large number of independent practitioners. Surely, your pace won't be any slower than ours!" "The Peak Immortal finally spoke, sneering, 'That's correct. I don't just demand speed—I demand quality, especially in materials. They must not fall short of this very hall. Otherwise, get ready to suffer!' A cultivator could take no more, shouting angrily, 'Peak Immortal, you're going too far! We are cultivators, fellow practitioners of the Xiao Yao Sect—we are not slaves!' The Eternal-Young Immortal raised an eyebrow, scoffing, 'What do you mean? You don't want to listen to me!' 'Though you are the Grand Marshal, we are all free individuals. How can we be ordered about by you?' the cultivator said, flushed with indignation. The Peak Immortal smiled, 'Let me show you why!' As soon as he finished speaking, his spindle-shaped artifact shot out, swiftly striking the cultivator's abdomen. Crumple— A stunning crash followed, and the cultivator met his end, both body and spirit utterly extinguished. The peak-level cultivator spoke calmly, "Now that you understand the reason, if anyone still has questions, please feel free to raise them—our Grand Master will provide answers!" Everyone was stunned, silent, unable to speak. Having delivered such a decisive blow that even senior cultivators were utterly annihilated, who could possibly dare to dissent? They had no choice but to bow their heads and adopt a compliant demeanor. "Hmph. Truly, there are more people who lack self-awareness than I thought. Without a fight, they simply won't be honest," the Immortal of Longevity remarked, then added, "Since you all agree, let's disperse. We're about to begin our celebration banquet—don't make a scene here!" One by one, they filed out, each bearing the same expression of profound resentment, yet none dared to voice their complaints openly, only suppressing their anger. They deeply missed the Monitor, though she shared the same decisive nature. Still, she at least treated people with reason. In contrast, the peak-level master seemed utterly indifferent to human dignity. Qin Shao, having just received the poison, strolled over slowly, noticing the strange expressions on everyone's faces, and asked, "What's wrong? Why are all of you here?" Those being asked glared at him and strode off without a word; others remained silent as well. "Strange," he said with a cheerful smile, "Have any of you lost your fathers? Or perhaps your concubines were taken by others? Or maybe you discovered your sons weren't actually your own?" To his surprise, no one seemed upset—everyone simply pretended not to have heard. I can't believe it—wasn't my remark sharp enough? How could that be? Behind them walked a younger cultivator, whose face bore the most evident expression of sorrow and indignation. Qin Feng seized his arm and whispered softly, "What exactly happened?" "Though he spoke softly, one could clearly hear the anger beneath his words: 'Old man Hu, who has never died, has asked everyone to help him build a palace—materials and labor are all provided by us. We've already been sacrificing our meals, yet he still finds us intrusive, pushing us all out. The Immortal School is celebrating a victory banquet, and yet, what do they see us as? Even animals deserve food, don't they?' He immediately realized that the peak-level cultivator's stinginess wasn't just surface-level—it ran deep, even surpassing the beauty of the Inspector of the Court. Yet, you, the Immortals of the Xiao Yao Sect, will surely be disappointed now. After drinking the wine I've seasoned with extra flavor, you'll probably all fall ill at once. Thinking of this, he couldn't help but feel cheerful. The cultivator being pulled by his arm blinked sharply: 'Brother, what do you mean? Do you really think that once you present your divine artifact to the Grand Master, he'll treat you differently? Wake up—your fate will surely be no better than ours!' 'No better than ours?' Qin Shao was taken aback. He shook off his hand and sneered, "We've been working together to build a palace, and yet they treat us like cattle and servants!" "Hehe, don't worry—absolutely not," he smiled mysteriously. With the Xiao Yao Sect about to vanish, what use would a palace be? "With that, the two of them flipped their hands, and two finely crafted blue-and-white porcelain jars appeared before them. "Oh, we have something even better—come and take a look," the immortal elder said, beaming. One person carried each jar and walked over together. After gently breaking the clay seal, a rich aroma of wine filled the air. The immortal elder praised, "Indeed, this is excellent wine. You two clearly have great filial devotion!" "Of course! What's good should be offered to the Elder, and we, the younger ones, simply won't be able to enjoy it ourselves!" "Ha ha! After we've finished this celebration banquet, the Grand Master himself will personally guide you two in your cultivation." The immortal elder didn't forget to add to everyone: "If you have anything special, feel free to offer it all to me—I won't let you down."