Bullied

The sun was just rising, and all was quiet.

The Glazed Sword Sect welcomed the morning.

A burly, middle-aged man, leading a group of laborers, walked west along a straight, wide bluestone path, their backs to the rising sun.

"The price of Exquisite Bamboo has been soaring lately, and Thousand Bamboo Ridge is short-handed!"

"We're heading to Thousand Bamboo Ridge today to help chop bamboo! Cutting down one stalk of Exquisite Bamboo earns one tael of silver. Such an opportunity doesn't come often..."

The middle-aged man had thick eyebrows, large eyes, a full beard, and a hooked nose with thick lips. He chewed on roasted soybeans as he spoke.

At the very back of the labor group was a thin, gaunt laborer. His face was bruised and swollen, and his clothes were covered in shoe prints. Compared to the strong laborers in front of him, he looked completely out of place.

His name was Fang Chen. He was fifteen years old, an orphan whose parents had died. Five years ago, his uncle had sold him to a local landlord to be a cowherd. After several transfers, he was eventually sold to the Glazed Sword Sect as a laborer.

He had been at the Glazed Sword Sect for over three years, but he had never been able to cultivate successfully because he had no Spiritual Root.

In this world, to become a cultivator, one must awaken a Spiritual Root.

A Spiritual Root is the bridge that allows a cultivator to communicate with the outside world. The higher the grade of the Spiritual Root, the faster one can absorb spiritual energy from the environment.

Without a Spiritual Root, one cannot absorb spiritual energy from the outside world and thus cannot cultivate. This was a universally accepted truth in the Barbaric Realm; even the gods couldn't change it.

The injuries on his face were from fighting with other laborers that morning over steamed buns.

Although they were all laborers, the others didn't treat him like a person. They not only dumped all the hard and unpleasant work on him but also frequently cursed and beat him.

He had initially thought that by becoming a laborer at the Glazed Sword Sect, he would at least no longer go hungry. However, this immortal cultivation sect was nothing like he had imagined. Since arriving at the Glazed Sword Sect, he had lived a life worse than that of a pig or dog.

The pigs in the sect's animal pens ate their fill and slept soundly every day.

Sometimes, he truly wished he could turn into a pig, preferably a boar, because boars were accompanied by sows almost every day. They lived happier lives than even immortals.

Half an hour later, Fang Chen and the others arrived at the foot of Thousand Bamboo Ridge.

Thousand Bamboo Ridge towered thousands of feet high, its peak perpetually shrouded in clouds and mist. Various types of bamboo grew there, said to number in the thousands, hence its name.

At the foot of Thousand Bamboo Ridge were rows of houses built from bamboo. In front of the houses was an open, sandy area where piles of already cut bamboo were stacked.

The middle-aged man led Fang Chen and the others to a bamboo house and kicked the door open with one foot. "Go inside and pick your tools. After you've got your tools, head up the mountain to work!"

"Charge!"

The laborers swarmed into the house.

Fang Chen didn't follow. He knew his arms were like toothpicks and his legs like chopsticks. If he rushed in, he might get trampled to death.

He stood quietly by the door, waiting for everyone else to come out before entering.

When he saw the situation inside the house, he couldn't help but want to curse.

He had expected to find many knives inside, as most of the others had grabbed several cleavers.

But to his surprise, all that was left inside were scraps of scrap metal. There wasn't a single cleaver, not even anything remotely resembling a blade.

"This is too much!"

Fang Chen couldn't help but curse. Those guys were old hands. Cleavers would get dull after prolonged use, so they grabbed a few extra. Once one got dull, they wouldn't have to stop to sharpen it; they could just switch to another one and keep chopping. Their efficiency was through the roof.

After searching through the pile of junk for a while, Fang Chen finally found a rust-covered longsword. The sword was entirely black, nearly four feet long and about four fingers wide. It was very heavy, weighing at least over a hundred pounds.

Fang Chen frowned slightly. Such a heavy sword would be difficult for him to wield. If he used it to chop bamboo, he'd likely collapse from exhaustion before the bamboo even broke.

Just as he was about to put the sword down, the hilt vibrated slightly.

"What's going on?"

Fang Chen stared at the sword in his hand, his expression surprised. He hadn't expected the sword to vibrate.

He thought he was hallucinating from not having breakfast and being hungry.

At that moment, streams of cool air flowed from the sword hilt into his palm, then coursed through his meridians to his entire body.

When the cool air reached his head, Fang Chen's spirits immediately lifted.

"Are you done yet? Hurry up, don't dawdle!"

Steward Cao's impatient voice came from the doorway.

"This sword is definitely not simple!"

Fang Chen's eyes narrowed slightly. To avoid suspicion, he rummaged through the junk pile again and pulled out two more rust-covered longswords. Although these two swords looked similar to the first one, they were more than ten times lighter.

He tied these two longswords to the black sword and slung them over his shoulder before walking out.

Emerging from the house, Fang Chen said to the middle-aged man, "Steward Cao, I'm ready!"

This middle-aged man's name was Cao Bin. He was the steward of the labor department at Dragon Tiger Mountain, known for his sharp tongue, meanness, and bad temper.

Cao Bin glanced at Fang Chen with a look of disdain and said, "Get lost!"

"Yes!"

Fang Chen replied. He found a whetstone by the door, then shouldered the three broken swords and headed up the mountain path.

The Exquisite Bamboo they were to cut was anything but exquisite. It was over twenty feet tall, and even two adults couldn't embrace the thinnest part.

This type of bamboo contained a special fragrance. Its extracted sap could be made into Exquisite Incense. When lit, the fragrance it emitted could refresh the mind and was highly beneficial for cultivation. It was one of the items cultivators frequently used during meditation.

The Exquisite Bamboo not only grew tall and thick, with walls exceeding a foot in thickness, but was also incredibly hard.

Even strong laborers, armed with ordinary machetes, might not be able to cut down a single stalk in an hour.

For someone as scrawny as Fang Chen, managing to cut down one in three hours would be considered good.

Only Exquisite Bamboo over a hundred years old could be harvested.

The mature Exquisite Bamboo at the foot of the mountain had been nearly all cut down. To find suitable bamboo, one had to venture higher up or to more remote areas.

Fang Chen followed a small path towards a more secluded spot. He wasn't in a hurry to chop bamboo right now; instead, he wanted to find a place where no one would be around so he could properly study the black longsword.

Half an hour later, Fang Chen arrived at a remote mountain stream.

He set the sword down and stretched his shoulders. The black longsword alone weighed over a hundred pounds, and the three swords combined were more than that. Being so thin, carrying them along the mountain path for so long had left his shoulders sore and aching.

He glanced around, and seeing no one, he picked up the black longsword, ready to examine it closely.

"Bzzzzzz..."

The black longsword vibrated again, and wisps of cool air flowed from the hilt into his palm, then surged through his meridians to his entire body. When the cool air reached his shoulders, he felt the soreness instantly vanish.