On a winding mountain path, a group of over a thousand people carrying generous gifts trudged forward step by step.
The Eighth Prince walked at the very front. The reason for their slow pace was the muddy ground, which had already spattered his exquisite brocade robes with specks of mud. His face was pale and unsightly.
"Endure it, Your Highness. If you cannot bear small matters, it will be difficult to accomplish great things," an old minister beside him advised with a bitter smile, continually urging caution.
Few knew that the Eighth Prince was an extreme neat freak. In the past, countless servants had been severely punished for failing to clean properly.
"I know," the Eighth Prince forced himself to endure, but he still couldn't help speaking up. "I heard that the Jiuzhou Sect is a reclusive, great sect from the Ancient Times. How can they not even have a decent mountain gate? Could it be that their disciples always trudge through the mud like this?"
