Who Is Undergoing the Tribulation

At 4:00 PM in Yang City, the sky should have been bright and sunny, but it was instead shrouded in thick, dark clouds, as black as if night had fallen.

Accompanying the dark clouds were gusts of howling wind and the distant rumble of thunder, as if the end of the world were upon them.

Feng Jun sat in the staff dormitory, staring blankly out the window. He slammed his beer bottle onto the table and let out a heavy sigh. "What the hell... which fellow daoist is undergoing their tribulation?"

Feng Jun was no cultivator; he was just a fan of web novels, and his snarky comment was merely a reflection of his extremely foul mood.

He was going to quit his job.

Feng Jun was twenty-four years old and a graduate of Xiayang University, holding a double degree in linguistics and business administration.

Although, since the expansion of university enrollment, undergraduates in the city were as common as stray dogs, being able to earn a double degree from a prestigious university in four years meant he could arguably be classified as one of the "favored sons of heaven."

However, graduation was synonymous with unemployment. He had first spent two years struggling in the southern city where his girlfriend lived, then, armed with a wealth of experience, he had come to Yang City alone.

The company he currently worked for—or rather, it shouldn't be called a company, but a club—was Hongjie Culture and Entertainment Co., Ltd.

God knows why a fitness club would be graced with the name "Culture," perhaps it was the legendary "culture and sports are inseparable"?

That's right, Feng Jun was currently employed at Hongjie Fitness Club.

He wasn't one of those legendary fitness coaches who had countless romantic encounters; he was just a lackey responsible for reception, running errands, and cleaning.

Fitness coaches required certifications, and Hongjie Fitness Club was no roadside shack; it was quite famous in Yang City.

The reason Feng Jun had managed to get hired was, first, that there was a shortage of young, able-bodied labor in the market, and second, he had a decent image—rugged features and a sturdy build. He wasn't exactly a "pretty boy," but he could barely pass for "fit and strong."

However, after getting hired, he realized that if you wanted to be a fitness coach, you needed a license!

That was truly a piece of tragic news.

And so, a proud holder of a double degree had ended up as a lackey at a fitness club.

Of course, even a lackey could have his spring; during his three months on the job, several middle-aged and elderly women had shown interest in him, but Feng Jun had shaken his head—their intentions weren't exactly pure.

The key was that they were far too "unforgettable" in appearance, and some even had unbearable body odor and an aggressive, overbearing aura.

Some fitness coaches mocked him for his pedantry, saying, "A graduate student with such high-minded poverty."

Damn it, a double degree and a graduate degree aren't the same thing, okay?

Regardless, Feng Jun was something of an outlier at Hongjie Fitness Club. Not only was he overqualified for his low-level position, but he also possessed a bit of that stubborn pride common in young people—a trait not encouraged in the service industry.

Customers didn't like that kind of arrogance, and his colleagues despised him for it.

Feng Jun's business lead today had been poached by one of his own colleagues.

In the morning, four young, beautiful girls had walked into the club. They weren't members; they were just there on a whim to work out. One of the tall girls was quite stunning.

Feng Jun was the one responsible for receiving them, and if he could convince them to sign up for memberships during their workout, he would earn a commission.

In all honesty, Feng Jun didn't have much confidence in this, for a simple reason: these girls clearly looked like college students, and there were no colleges nearby.

Besides, students were at that youthful age where few had long-term fitness needs, and their wallets weren't thick enough; very few were willing to spend money on this.

But even this small reception task was snatched away by someone else. The fitness coach Liu Shuming stepped forward, indicating that he could provide the relevant consultation and service.

When Coach Liu walked over, he made a shooing gesture at Feng Jun as if he were swatting a fly. "Go on, go on... I'll handle this!"

Feng Jun was quite indignant about this, not just because of the commission, but because of the guy's attitude—is it that hard to look at me when you're talking to me?

But he couldn't say anything; in a fitness club, the priority of a fitness coach was naturally higher than that of a lackey.

Then... things went wrong, and Coach Liu got beaten up.

The ones who beat him were those four girls.

As a fitness coach, Liu Shuming had a toned physique and exaggerated muscles, so his combat effectiveness shouldn't have been too bad, but two of those four girls were very capable fighters, so, as the saying goes, two fists are no match for four hands.

Manager Guo was alarmed and came over to investigate, only to find out that the four girls had stated from the beginning that they were just working out casually and didn't need a coach, but Liu Shuming had insisted on giving them pointers and even got handsy, which finally set the girls off.

However, Coach Liu insisted: "I just wanted to provide some guidance and use enthusiastic service to try and get them to sign up for memberships."

Manager Guo first apologized to the customers, waived their fees, and after sending them off with kind words, she began to assign blame.

Yet, strangely, she aimed her fire in an inconceivable direction.

"Feng Jun, since you were responsible for receiving them, why didn't you follow up? The customers already said they didn't need a coach!"

Coach Liu also glared at Feng Jun, his eyes full of rage. "If you had been responsible for the subsequent service, would I have ended up like this?"

Feng Jun's pride wasn't just a legend. Hearing this, he threw his rag onto the floor and looked coldly at Manager Guo. "I didn't beg Coach Liu to step in. When he shooed me away, he didn't even look at me... and now you're saying it's justified to poach my business?"

"What kind of attitude is that?" Manager Guo's voice turned shrill. "Is that how you talk to your superior?"

Feng Jun turned and walked toward the exit. "I'm not feeling well, I'm going home to rest!"

At that moment, he had already made up his mind: he wasn't staying in this godforsaken place any longer.

Afterward, he bought a six-pack of beer and sat in his dormitory, drinking slowly while pondering: where should he go after quitting?

Although Yang City was a big city, jobs here weren't easy to find. Waiter, lackey, or porter jobs were easy enough to come by, but finding work suitable for his double degree was truly difficult.

Back when he first arrived, he had wandered around Yang City for over half a month without finding a suitable job, which was why he had chosen to work at the fitness club in the first place.

Of course, returning to his hometown was an option. His hometown was a small city where his parents ran a small business and had some minor connections, so finding a job wouldn't be too hard. If all else failed, he could just take over the family business.

However, as a double-degree holder from a prestigious university, how could Feng Jun bring himself to go back? He couldn't bear to leave the prosperity of the big city, and he couldn't afford to lose face like that.

Watching the scene outside the window, which looked like the apocalypse on Blue Star, Feng Jun pondered: should he quit his job now, or wait until he got paid?

Over the past two years, he hadn't managed to save much money. Even including the job-hunting funds his parents had sent him, he only had a little over ten thousand yuan in his account. His phone was even a freebie that came with a prepaid plan; although it was marketed as a smartphone, it was essentially a device for the elderly.

He didn't know when it started, but bean-sized raindrops began to fall outside, drumming against the windowpane with a rhythmic "thud-thud."

The lightning grew brighter with every flash, and the rumbling of thunder was incessant.

Feng Jun finished the remaining half-bottle of white liquor in his dormitory, then downed seven or eight beers. With the alcohol hitting his head, he felt the urge to call a friend. He picked up his old phone, only to find it had only three percent battery left.

He plugged the phone in to charge, then collapsed onto his bed and fell into a deep sleep.

Before drifting off, he didn't forget to clutch the phone tightly in his hand. There was no helping it; in this low-end employee dormitory, theft was the norm—he had lost money more than once. In places with a high transient population, short-sighted behavior was inevitable.

The daily life of the working class was truly difficult; talking about it only brought tears...

He didn't know how long he had been asleep when a sudden flash of lightning outside lit up the room so brightly it was blinding. At the same time, an electric arc surged along the charger cable toward that old smartphone.

Feng Jun was jolted awake by a thunderclap. It sounded as if it were right next to his ear, an incredibly loud noise, like the sky collapsing and the earth splitting. Even half-dead with sleep, he bolted upright, his hair standing on end.

Still shaken, he looked around and noticed a crack running through the center of the windowpane. No way, this thunder... was it less than three hundred meters away?

Only then did he feel a sharp pain in his hand. He looked down and saw that while he was still clutching the old phone, the charging cable... why had it turned black?

He twitched his nose and smelled the scent of burning rubber in the air.

Before he could react, shouts erupted from the neighboring rooms.

"Holy crap, the TV is smoking! What the hell, that thunder was way too loud!"

"Damn them, does this building not have a lightning rod?"

The dormitory where Feng Jun lived was in a four-story building. Although it was old, it did have a lightning rod.

However, the lightning was too powerful and too close. Lightning rods weren't omnipotent; this single strike had fried at least fifty televisions, nearly a hundred landline phones, routers, and Wi-Fi units around the dormitory building.

Feng Jun had no interest in the losses suffered by others; he was concerned about one thing: was his phone broken?

Although the crappy phone was old and slow, it was still convenient for making calls. Connecting to the neighbor's Wi-Fi meant surfing the internet wasn't an issue, and of course, the most important thing was that his contact list was stored inside.

He pressed the home button at the bottom of the phone and found that not only did it light up, but it was also functioning normally—slowly but surely.

Maybe I should make a call to test the connection? Feng Jun thought as he glanced at the phone's interface.

Then, he froze: it was eight o'clock at night?

Fine, eight o'clock wasn't strange; after all, it had been nearly six o'clock when he went to sleep.

But why... was the phone's battery already at one hundred percent?