《Amon: The Lowest Tier Disciple of Sanctity Sect》


 Disaster in the Making

    I¡¯m literally so low, I¡¯m considering asking the floor to be my best friend. Solid, reliable, always there for me. Honestly, it¡¯s already doing a better job than most people in life.


    Meanwhile, Donny-oh, Donny is out there being a prodigy. A literal Saint-rank mage at 12 years old? That guy¡¯s a walking cheat code. I¡¯m 17 and I can¡¯t even figure out how to boil rice without creating a small house fire. Life¡¯s not fair, but hey, who needs fairness when you¡¯ve got¡­Uh whatever it is that I¡¯ve got.


    Then it happens. Donny, decides to show off by summoning a literal storm . The air started crackling and I¡¯m pretty sure the sky is reconsidering its life choices. Meanwhile, I¡¯m standing here like, ¡°Yeah, no big deal,¡± while secretly praying not to die.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    But one thing¡¯s clear I want that power. The kind that makes the world take a step back and go, ¡°Whoa, maybe we shouldn¡¯t call him a ¡®disaster¡¯ anymore.¡± Yeah, I know what they say about me. Amon, the Calamity. Real creative, guys. I¡¯ve got dreams, okay?


    So, I make a plan.


    Step 1: Find treasure. Not just any treasure. The kind that makes you op like in those generic novel.


    Step 2: Become stronger. Preferably with zero effort involved because hard work is overrated.


    Step 3: Betray everyone who ever said my hair looked bad. (Still salty about that, by the way.)


    Step 4: Steal stuff. But, like¡­ don¡¯t get caught. I have my limits.


    Step 5: Find a teacher. Not a good one just someone gullible enough to think I¡¯m trying.


    Step 6: Somehow become a legend. Not sure how yet. Probably involves pretending I had morals all along.


    No morals. No talent. Just vibes.


    Also, can someone teach me how to cook? Seriously, the rice thing is getting embarrassing.

 The Forbidden Library

    So, I¡¯ve been thinking about this grand plan of mine getting stronger, of course. But here''s the problem: I have no idea how to actually get stronger. It¡¯s not like I can just ask some seasoned mage, ¡°Hey, any tips on how to stop being awful at this whole magic thing?¡±


    Which brings me to my next logical step: the Forbidden Library.


    Yeah, sounds impressive, right? Ancient books, hidden knowledge, maybe a secret spell that¡¯ll turn me into a Saint-rank mage overnight. But when I get there? It¡¯s basically a basement. Dust everywhere, spiders in the corners, and the air feels like it''s been holding a grudge for centuries. If there was a sign that said, ¡°You¡¯ll regret this,¡± it would¡¯ve been flashing.


    I wander around, dodging cobwebs and kicking the occasional spider (it was asking for it), until I find this old book. It¡¯s falling apart, the cover¡¯s all beaten up, and the title? How to Fake Your Way to Cultivation.


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    Now, this is exactly the kind of thing I¡¯m looking for.


    I start reading, all excited about my new path to greatness. Step one: "Identify your strengths."


    Okay, cool. What am I good at? Well¡­ I¡¯m really good at¡­ existing? Yeah, that counts. I exist. That¡¯s a strength, right?


    Step two: "Harness your hidden potential."


    Great. I¡¯ve got hidden potential. But how do I harness it? I sit down, close my eyes, and start meditating. Five seconds later, I¡¯m wondering if lunch is ready yet.


    Forget hidden potential my stomach has its own agenda.


    I give up on the meditation thing. This book isn¡¯t helping at all. But I¡¯m not ready to throw in the towel. There has to be something useful here, right? Or maybe I¡¯ll just keep pretending I know what I¡¯m doing.


    Either way, I¡¯m still without a teacher, still clueless, and still stuck in this basement with an ancient book that¡¯s as helpful as a brick

 The Art of Sweeping

    So, I¡¯m still trying to figure out this whole ¡°cultivation¡± thing. The more I try, the more I¡¯m starting to think if I''m supposed to get powerful or just a bad headache. Hard to tell at this point.


    I¡¯m in my room, attempting to look all mysterious and cool like those cultivators in the stories. I sit down, close my eyes, and chant the most epic thing I can think of: ¡°I am strong. I am the chosen one. I will rise to the top.¡±


    I open my eyes, expecting to be glowing or levitating or maybe just something. But nope. Nothing.


    Okay, fine. I try again.


    Still nothing.


    Then I remember, oh yeah, I¡¯m supposed to "synchronize with my mana pool." Whatever that means. Sounds important, right?


    So I sit there for what feels like an hour, focusing on my internal mana pool, trying to "sync" with it. At one point, I think I feel something. But then I realize I¡¯m just sitting on my foot and my leg has gone completely numb. Great. That¡¯s what I get for trying to be all deep and profound.


    I sigh and decide to call it a day. Anyways the whole synchronization thing is overrated.


    I start wandering around, scanning the back alley of the sect, hoping for something worthwhile. And then I see it. A chest. Just sitting there, waiting for me to unlock its secrets.


    I open it with all the drama I can muster. A flash of light bursts out of it, and my heart races. Is this it? The treasure? I''m gonna be unstoppable.


    I look inside.


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    And... it''s a sock.


    Not even a matching pair. Just one sock. And it¡¯s not even a good sock.


    I stare at it. Okay, so maybe this isn''t the treasure I was hoping for. But hey, socks are useful, right? Maybe this is the "treasure" I¡¯ve been searching for all along.


    So, that didn¡¯t work out. Whatever. I¡¯m not giving up. I¡¯m a genius strategist. Time to find a teacher.


    I walk around the sect, scanning for anyone who might be willing to help me. Finally, I spot an elder sitting on a bench, looking like he¡¯s in the middle of a very intense midlife crisis. Perfect. This is my guy.


    I march up to him, all serious, and say, ¡°Yo, teach, be my sensie.¡±


    He looks at me like I just asked him for his kidney.


    After a long sigh, he says, ¡°Kid, you¡¯re a joke."


    He looks like someone who¡¯s been through three divorces.


    I nod enthusiastically. ¡°Exactly! That¡¯s why I need help. No one else will teach me.¡±He glares at me for a solid minute before muttering, ¡°You¡¯re a failure, but fine. I¡¯ll teach you one thing.¡±


    My heart leaps. This is it. My big break.


    He hands me a broom.


    I blink. ¡°Uh, is this a joke?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says, voice deadpan. ¡°Clean this place properly, and I¡¯ll consider you a disciple.¡±


    I stare at the broom. I mean¡­ maybe this is my true calling? Maybe sweeping is the secret to unlocking my power. Or maybe he¡¯s testing my resolve.


    Either way, I pick up the broom with new determination. This is it. I¡¯m gonna rise. Even if it means sweeping my way to the top..

 Broom Wielding Mastermind

    Okay, so my teacher handed me a broom and told me to "sweep my way to greatness." Inspirational, right? Too bad I''m still stuck as a low-tier disciple, probably the lowest-tier disciple in the history of the sect.


    I can''t just be the guy who sweeps floors forever. There''s gotta be something more to life than this. A treasure, or, you know, anything useful. Definitely not more socks.


    So, naturally, I start my own little treasure hunt. I rummage through every dusty corner, inspect every shelf, and investigate every random box I can find. Spoiler alert: they''re all empty. Except for... yep, you guessed it, more socks.


    But hey, I don¡¯t give up! There has to be something around here that''ll make me powerful. Something that¡¯ll make Donny look like a total joke. I refuse to believe my fate is limited to a lifetime of sweeping and socks.


    Finally, after what feels like an eternity of searching, I find another chest. Here it is, I think.


    But then¡­ the chest talks.


    ¡°If you want the treasure inside, you¡¯ll need to find its big, long, and thick key,¡± it says, its voice echoing dramatically.


    I freeze. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s weird,¡± I mutter. ¡°But then again, if some random protagonist can make a harem of goddesses, a talking chest isn¡¯t even that strange.¡±


    So, off I go to find the key. As I¡¯m rifling through cupboards, I spot it: a large key radiating golden light. This is it! I think, smiling. This is what¡¯s going to make me invincible, a cheat-level power that¡¯ll make everyone regret laughing at me.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I grab the key and head back to the chest. I hold my breath, insert the key into the lock, and.....wait. Is that water seeping out of the keyhole?


    Before I can process it, the chest moans. Loudly. ¡°Ahhh!¡±


    I jump back, my brain short-circuiting. ¡°What the?¡±


    The chest doesn¡¯t stop. ¡°Insert it deeper, step bro,¡± it says.


    I stare at it, horrified. ¡°Oh no. Nope. I¡¯m not doing this.¡± But then I think about my potential future¡ªan OP protagonist with a legendary harem and sigh. ¡°Fine. For the harem,¡± I whisper, grimacing as I push the key deeper into the lock.


    The chest lets out a scream ¡°Yessss!¡± and finally clicks open. My heart races. This is it! My legendary artifact!


    Inside¡­ is a glowing piece of paper. I carefully unwrap it, my hands trembling like I¡¯ve just unearthed the secret to immortality.


    And it¡¯s...


    A piece of chewed bubble gum.


    I stare at it for a long moment. ¡°Alright, universe, you win. This is my fate now.¡±


    So, here I am, with a chewed piece of bubble gum, a broom, and my undying determination (which, let¡¯s be real, is mostly me refusing to admit defeat). But I¡¯m not giving up. No way.


    I start brainstorming. What do I need? More power. How do I get it? Uh¡­ still working on that. But power doesn¡¯t come on an empty stomach, so I head to the kitchen to fuel up. My grand feast? A bowl of burnt rice. Not ideal, but it¡¯s food.


    Then, like a divine revelation (or a painfully slow thought), an idea hits me. Why work hard when I can just... exploit the system? Like Fang Yuan, but, you know, with slightly less murder.


    That¡¯s it! I¡¯ll find a teacher to do all the hard work for me. A genius move, right? The only problem? Finding a teacher who doesn¡¯t see me as a walking disaster.


    I wander around the sect, asking anyone who looks even remotely competent. Every time, I¡¯m either laughed at or handed another broom. ¡°Here,¡± they say. ¡°This is your teacher.¡±


    Sigh.


    I was taken in by the sect when I was just an orphan kid. But since I didn¡¯t have any natural talent, they never even admitted me to classes. Instead, I got stuck doing chores. Classic underdog story, right? But I¡¯ve heard that if I get a recommendation from one of the elders, I might finally be able to join the classes.


    But until then? I guess I¡¯ll keep sweeping. With style, of course. One day, I¡¯ll be the greatest broom-wielder this sect has ever seen.

 My Glorious Rise to Rank 1

    Alright, it''s time to kickstart my meteoric rise to the top. I''ve been a disciple for a while now, and let¡¯s face it, I¡¯m still embarrassingly bad at pretty much everything. I can barely remember the basics of my cultivation techniques, and just yesterday, someone pointed out that I¡¯ve been holding my sword upside down during sparring. Classic me.


    Today, I overheard some of the higher-ups talking about a ¡°secret mission.¡± Now, do I have any clue what this mission is about? Of course not. But if there¡¯s even the tiniest chance it could get me closer to a proper cultivation class, I¡¯m in.


    So, I do what any genius would do: I walk straight up to the head disciple, who¡¯s mid-conversation, and casually ask, ¡°Hey, what¡¯s the secret mission?¡±


    He glares at me like I just insulted his entire bloodline. ¡°That¡¯s none of your business, idiot.¡±


    Alright, fair enough. Time for Plan B. I recall hearing rumors about a legendary herb in the forest that¡¯s supposed to massively boost dual cultivation. Do I know anything about herbs? Not really. But I¡¯ve seen people make potions, so how hard could it be?


    I drop a casual mention of the herb. ¡°Oh, you mean the Moonlight Herb?¡± I say, trying to sound like I totally know what I¡¯m talking about. ¡°Yeah, I know about that. I could help the sect leader get his hands on it if you want.¡±


    The head disciple narrows his eyes at me, clearly trying to decide if I¡¯m serious or just insane. Finally, he hands me a map. ¡°Fine. Go find it. If you come back alive, maybe you¡¯ll actually be useful for once.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing!¡± I grin, pretending I¡¯m not already regretting every life choice that led me to this moment.


    The Search for the Moonlight Herb


    With the map clutched tightly in my hands, I venture into the forest like a man on a mission. Half an hour later, I¡¯m completely lost. The map? Useless. My sense of direction? Nonexistent.


    But then, amidst the endless sea of greenery, I spot it, it''s a plant with shiny leaves. This has to be it! I think. The legendary Moonlight Herb!Stolen novel; please report.


    I grab the glowing plant with all the confidence of someone who has no idea what they¡¯re doing and march back to the sect, holding it high like I¡¯ve just found the Holy Grail.


    The head disciple takes one look at it and sighs. ¡°This is just some random weed. What the hell are you doing?¡±


    I blink. ¡°No, no, this is definitely it. Look at the glow!¡±


    He looks at me, clearly debating whether or not to throw me out of the sect right then and there. But then, he tilts his head, examining the weed more closely. ¡°Wait... this is actually kind of useful for one of our potions. Maybe you can be useful for some of the sect''s mission. You can take part in the sect¡¯s missions from now on if you want."


    Taking a pen out and writing a letter but his handwriting was so bad that even pharmsicit''s would have problem decoding it.


    But...Wait, what? Why is the writer so generous today? Did he get laid or something.


    Forget it it''s time for ''My Glorious Promotion''


    Somehow, I¡¯ve done it. I didn¡¯t find the Moonlight Herb, but I still managed to be helpful. I rush to the Hall of Records, the letter of recommendation burning a hole in my pocket. This is it. My chance to finally rise above being ¡°that idiot who sweeps the floors.¡±


    The clerk at the desk looks up as I approach, his expression screaming ¡°I don¡¯t get paid enough for this.¡± I hand him the letter, trying to show confidence. He glances at it, mutters something under his breath, and then looks me over like he¡¯s deciding whether or not to laugh.


    ¡°So, this is the guy, huh?¡± he says to no one in particular. Then, louder: ¡°Alright, you¡¯re eligible to take sect missions from now on.¡±


    A big grin spreads across my face. This is it! Promotion! Recognition! Finally, I¡¯m on my way to greatness.


    Then he slides a small parchment across the desk. ¡°Rank 1. Take it or leave it.¡±


    My grin falters. ¡°Rank 1?¡± I repeat, hoping I heard him wrong. ¡°You mean... the very bottom?¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± the clerk says, deadpan. ¡°You¡¯re lucky you even got that. Rank 1 is where you start. You can take missions now, but don¡¯t expect anything exciting. It¡¯s all grunt work from here.¡±


    I stand there, holding the parchment like it¡¯s both a blessing and a curse. Rank 1. It sounds so... unimpressive. But it¡¯s still something. Better than sweeping floors, right?


    And maybe this it the chance for me to get recommended and could finally take classes. As I leave the Hall of Records, the weight of Rank 1 settles over me like a wet blanket. It¡¯s not glamorous, it¡¯s not exciting, and it¡¯s definitely not what I had in mind when I pictured my rise to greatness. But it¡¯s a start. And if there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve learned today, it¡¯s that I can turn even the dumbest of situations into something useful.


    One step at a time. Maybe, just maybe, I can turn this rank into something more. Until then... I guess I¡¯ll just keep being the idiot who somehow stumbles his way forward.