Beimang Ridge, Qianji Sect.
Dawn was just breaking. In the communal compound halfway up Chiyan Peak, Jiang Yi rose early.
The late autumn chill was growing heavier. Though snow had not yet fallen, a row of icicles already hung beneath the eaves.
Wrapped in a gray cotton dao robe, Jiang Yi bent over to wash up. He scooped a ladle of bone-chilling water from the vat and splashed it on his face.
"Ss!"
His whole body shuddered, and he instantly felt refreshed.
Yesterday, he had toiled another six or seven hours in the "Quenching Room." That place was filled with smoke and fire, burning his eyes until they streamed with tears and his skin turned red. It was truly grueling work.
After the shift ended, the hour of Chou had already passed.
Jiang Yi had only gulped down a pot of cold tea before collapsing into bed. Now, he was famished and utterly exhausted.
"Brother Yi, when did you get back last night? I didn't even see you."
Someone pushed open the door from the neighboring room—it was He Lao Hun, who shared the communal compound with Jiang Yi.
"Busy until the Chou hour. By then, you were all asleep."
Jiang Yi rubbed his face vigorously, feeling a faint, sunburn-like stinging pain.
He Lao Hun clicked his tongue twice:
"Brother Yi works too hard. Working two extra hours doesn't earn that many fu coins."
Jiang Yi's face was red as he grinned, revealing a mouthful of white teeth:
"The overseer was pushing hard. Normally it's twenty fu coins an hour, but yesterday he was uncharacteristically generous—eighty."
He Lao Hun curled his lip. One hundred and sixty fu coins was certainly not a small sum, but the environment of the Quenching Room was too torturous. Seven or eight furnaces burned day and night without rest; staying inside for even a short while would leave one dizzy and muddle-headed. Even an iron man couldn't endure it.
Moreover, this Brother Yi painstakingly saved fu coins, not for himself or to build a nest egg, but because he had taken a fancy to Luo Qian'er from the neighboring peak. He did everything to please her just to win a smile.
In just half a year, he had spent the twenty or thirty thousand fu coins he had painstakingly saved.
Thinking this, He Lao Hun couldn't help shaking his head. Who didn't know that that loose woman surnamed Luo had something going with Zhou Can of Fengyi Peak?
Otherwise, how could she have been transferred from the "Banner Room" of Yanghun Peak to the relatively easier "Washing Room" of Fengyi Peak?
The work there wasn't too heavy. Earning a total of two thousand fu coins a month was quite easy, making it a desirable place envied by many mortal servants!
"Brother Yi, why torture and work yourself to the bone for a woman? In my opinion, we should work a few more years, save up tens of thousands of fu coins, leave the mountain, buy some farmland and a house, return home as a wealthy landlord, and take a few beautiful wives and concubines. Wouldn't that be delightful?"
Out of consideration for the times Jiang Yi had gotten him food and saved him dishes, He Lao Hun rarely offered so many words.
"Thank you, Brother He. I've seen the light. I won't do stupid things anymore."
Jiang Yi grinned. Between his brows, there was less of the past wooden dullness; he seemed quite hearty.
"That's good. You're up so early, going to work again?"
He Lao Hun was half-convinced. He had advised Brother Yi more than once before, but it had always gone in one ear and out the other. He had only regarded Luo Qian'er as a fairy, wishing he could carve out his heart and lungs for her, as if possessed.
"Overseer Yang of the Quenching Room saw my diligence and specially sent me to the Lower Courtyard to oversee the new recruitments."
Jiang Yi said truthfully.
"You've certainly got good luck. The recruitment is lucrative; earning several hundred or even a thousand fu coins in one go isn't hard."
He Lao Hun's tone suddenly turned sour. Why hadn't he encountered Old Man Yang of the Quenching Room having a moment of kindness?
If he had known, he shouldn't have left so early yesterday—he had missed the opportunity!
"When I finish and return, I'll treat you, Brother He, to some 'spirit cuisine.'"
Jiang Yi said with a smile.
"That would be great! Let me bask in your good fortune!"
Having gained a benefit, He Lao Hun's face showed a bit more smile. The trace of jealousy in his heart was also dispelled, and he said lightly:
"Brother Yi is still hungry, right? There are a few beef patties on the stove; take them to pad your stomach. By the way, what's with your eyes? They're all red."
"Scorched by the furnace fires. Nothing serious. Thanks, Brother He."
Jiang Yi cupped his hands in thanks, then went to the kitchen, lifted the covered porcelain bowl, and stuffed the beef-filled rolled pancakes into his chest.
"Brother He, I'll be off."
He spoke and then left the compound, heading down the mountain.
Wu wu!
Cold wind blew, and the mountain forests howled.
Myriad thoughts churned in Jiang Yi's heart, like the drifting clouds and mist atop Chiyan Peak—scattered by the wind, then gathering again.
"Qianji Sect, Chiyan Peak, mortal servant... They speak of cultivating the Dao and seeking immortality, but it's clearly just being cattle and horse consumables in a sweatshop factory!"
Jiang Yi bit into the chewy beef roll, sighing inwardly, his thoughts drifting lightly to his previous life:
"My second uncle remarried. I went back to my hometown, gave a gift, and attended the wedding banquet. I ran into a Daoist who read my fortune, saying I was 'fated to become an immortal and would soon encounter great fortune.' I thought it was a good omen. Damn it, who would have thought it was that kind of 'great fortune!'"
Having occupied this body for seven or eight days, Jiang Yi had more or less figured out the situation.
The original owner was a youth from Guniu Town below Beimang Ridge. His family background was decent, and he didn't lack food or clothing. Only because his parents died early, and he was obsessed with sword immortal stories in novels, under the encouragement of his relatives, he sold his property and went to the prefectural city to enroll in a Dao Academy.
Unfortunately, he had little talent, his aptitude was low, and he stopped at the first layer of Qi Refinement.
Once the three-year study period passed, he was assigned to the Qianji Sect on Beimang Ridge, becoming a mortal servant in one of the seven or eight workshops on Chiyan Peak.
"Sounds like graduating from a vocational college and getting assigned by the school to an electronics factory to screw in screws..."
Jiang Yi mocked himself.
So-called mortal servants were odd-job workers in the sect, not classified among the "disciples."
Like apprentices seeking arts in the mundane world, they had no personal freedom. Morning and evening, they started and ended work at the sound of the bell.
Following the overseer's arrangements, they went to places like the "Quenching Room," "Engraving Room," and "Forging Room" to earn some fu coins.
If one luckily broke through to the fifth layer of Qi Refinement, they might be promoted to overseer; or if they endured twelve years and their term expired, they could choose to leave the Qianji Sect and return to the mundane world.
"From a sweatshop consumable screwing screws, struggling to become a workshop backbone? Sounds like pie in the sky."
Jiang Yi didn't think this was anything to look forward to. The Qianji Sect was not a legendary major immortal sect; it was a small household.
Its main products were the "Hundred-Soul Banner," "Hundred-Shadow Dharma Robe," and "White Bone Dharma Sword."
Just hearing the names, one knew—it was thoroughly demonic!
The attrition rate among mortal servant laborers of the various peaks and rooms was quite high.
"But for a demonic sect, they actually adopted a sustainable model of establishing Dao Academies to select talent and consumables."
Jiang Yi mused. According to his understanding, weren't demonic sects in the general sense all about draining the pond to catch fish, treating common mortals as livestock?
Working for the sect, and they actually paid fu coins?
Just thinking about it felt inconceivable.
As for that Luo Qian'er from Fengyi Peak that He Lao Hun mentioned—a classic sloppy story of a simp and a factory girl—Jiang Yi paid it no mind at all.
The original owner had worked himself to death, putting in six or seven hours, even eight or nine hours, to earn just over a thousand coins a month.
Yet he could spend money like dirt, buying all sorts of outfits for Luo Qian'er and leasing a cave dwelling. Truly the act of an idiot with lard smeared over his heart!
If it were him, he absolutely couldn't do it.
"Hitting the jackpot with transmigration, becoming a manual laborer who went all-in. Good thing he didn't leave me with any debt. Being consumable labor in a sweatshop is bad enough; if I had to repay loans too, there'd be no point in living."
Jiang Yi walked with swift strides, reaching the foot of the mountain before long.
The lower courtyard sounded impressive, but it was actually just a few rooms with white walls and black tiles. Two stone ferocious beasts were placed at the entrance, and above hung a plaque with the two characters "Dao Gate" in a large font.
"The demonic path is still a path. Calling it a 'Dao Gate' isn't wrong. But since they like to gild their faces, why call themselves the 'demonic path'? If it were me, I'd change it to 'Sacred Sect.'"
Jiang Yi muttered inwardly, lifted his leg to cross the side door, and met with the steward stationed there.
"You've come just in time. There are many people today; it's already packed. When the bell of Guanlan Peak rings, we'll begin registration."
The steward said.
Jiang Yi nodded lightly, then sat at the front courtyard gate. Before him was a long table with ink, brush, and books.
He had, after all, entered a Dao Academy; reading and writing were naturally understood.
The Qianji Sect had considerable renown on Beimang Ridge. Because its "Hundred-Shadow Dharma Robes" and "White Bone Dharma Swords" sold widely, nearby demonic cultivators almost all owned one.
So they didn't lack for "consumables" scrambling to join as mortal servants.
Among them, besides the unpromising students sent by Dao Academies in the various prefectural cities, there were many wild cultivators from the mountains and marshes, as well as common mortals who had learned the news from who-knew-where.
Jiang Yi sat quietly for a moment. The great sun leaped above the horizon, and the mountain ranges were draped in golden light.
The bell of Guanlan Peak also rang—nine times in total. The sound waves rumbled, spreading through the surrounding five peaks.
The steward opened the lower courtyard gates. Outside was a long queue; at a rough glance, there were over a hundred people.
"Sweatshop consumables, and they still scramble to be one. In this rotten world, how can one cultivate the Dao and seek longevity!"
Jiang Yi sighed sincerely, then mustered his voice:
"Come one by one, don't push! And remember, clearly state your name and place of origin. If you lack proof of identity, leave peacefully!"
...
"Alright, go back and wait for news. Tomorrow the list should be posted."
Past mid-afternoon, Jiang Yi finished registering the last person.
Once the lower courtyard gates were closed again, he slowly organized the fish-scale register recording everyone's names, places of origin, and backgrounds, carefully categorizing them.
Two incense sticks later, Jiang Yi finished handling it and reported the details to the steward:
"Registered total: two hundred sixty-three people. Half were recommended by Dao Academies, with credible identification plaques. Another eighty-three are wild cultivators and rogue cultivators who need investigation..."
Unlike the original owner's wooden taciturnity, Jiang Yi handled matters methodically. Even such miscellaneous tasks as registration and record-keeping were done beautifully.
Hearing this report, the steward was quite pleased and thought secretly:
"The mortal servants from Chiyan Peak really have much better discernment than those from other peaks. They've saved me much effort."
His previously rigid face immediately showed a bit more smile, and he said gently:
"Thanks for your hard work, Junior Brother Jiang."
Jiang Yi hurriedly cupped his hands:
"I have not yet been accepted into the sect. I cannot bear to be called 'Junior Brother.'"
The steward waved his hand:
"Inner sect disciples are already few. I am also no remarkable True Inheritor. We all scrape by in the sect; calling each other 'senior and junior brothers' is fine."
Jiang Yi accepted this and addressed the other as "Senior Brother."
The steward said his surname was Lin. He had once served as an overseer on Fengyi Peak. Later, his health declined, and he had been voluntarily reassigned to the Lower Courtyard to hold a leisurely post.
He flipped through the fish-scale register, confirmed it was more or less correct, and slowly spoke:
"Junior Brother Jiang, this is your first time overseeing recruitment. There are some insides to it that I must explain clearly to you."
Jiang Yi's heart thumped—he knew the main event had arrived.
He Lao Hun, as an old-timer of Chiyan Peak, envied him for taking this task. One could see how lucrative it was.
"This recruitment requires filling thirty-one vacancies on Chiyan Peak, nine on Caiyao Peak, twelve on Yanghun Peak, and forty-three on Fengyi Peak."
Steward Lin seemed worried that Jiang Yi was a greenhorn and patiently said:
"These vacancies vary in quality. Many who come from Dao Academies are willing to spend money to have the Lower Courtyard open a path for them. It's merely a matter of raising one's hand..."
Steward Lin said this and specially glanced at Jiang Yi. Seeing no rejection on the other's face, he continued:
"Look, these two—Xu Jinsheng and Zhao Fang from the prefectural city's Dao Academy—one wants to go to the 'Spirit Plant Room' of Caiyao Peak, the other to the 'Engraving Room' of Chiyan Peak. The former is priced at one thousand eight hundred fu coins, the latter at six hundred."
So it was clearly marked prices!
Jiang Yi realized, then mentally complained:
In this day and age, even being cattle and horse consumables in a sweatshop factory requires finding connections!
"There are many similar cases. Junior Brother Jiang was dispatched by the overseer to oversee recruitment and register names for the Lower Courtyard—naturally hard work. I, Lin, absolutely won't let you make this trip for nothing."
Steward Lin waved his hand and smiled:
"Two thousand coins as your share! Is Junior Brother Jiang satisfied?"
Truly a lucrative post!
Jiang Yi clicked his tongue. He feared that suffering through a month in the Quenching Room was what it took to earn this amount.
He immediately cupped his hands and bowed:
"Senior Brother is generous! This Junior Brother thanks you!"
This lad knows the way.
Steward Lin nodded in satisfaction. Making ten thousand fu coins this trip was no problem.
He was willing to split off two thousand coins partly because of Old Man Yang of Chiyan Peak's face, and partly because Jiang Yi worked hard, truly saving him much worry.
Once both sides agreed, Jiang Yi began "assigning positions." Later, he would submit the register. Tomorrow, the overseers of the various peaks would come down to collect people.
Before leaving the Lower Courtyard, Jiang Yi couldn't help asking:
"Senior Brother, why are those from the Dao Academies willing to spend such a large sum?"
Having occupied this body for seven or eight days, according to the fragmentary memories, the world had not deteriorated to the point of being unlivable.
Beimang Ridge was under the rule of the Zhao Kingdom. It was no different from most feudal dynasties. Though there were heavy taxes and official exploitation pressing the common people until they couldn't breathe—they could still live!
Especially those who entered Dao Academies came from more or less decent family backgrounds; otherwise, how could they afford the three years of study and cultivation resources?
There was absolutely no need to sell themselves to the Qianji Sect, willingly becoming outer-section mortal servants, acting as cattle and horse consumables.
After twelve years of bitter toil, those who could save enough fu coins to leave the mountain were actually pitifully few.
"Has Junior Brother Jiang not heard? In the vast lands of Jambu, the world is governed by the Dao!"
Steward Lin puffed out his chest and said with a smile:
"This 'Dao' naturally encompasses all things. Whether demonic path, immortal path, Buddhist path, or demon path—as long as it possesses a legitimate tradition, it can govern the world! The five domains and territories—all are thus!"
P.S.: This is a new author with a new book. I earnestly ask my dear readers for their support and votes. Heart~