When you ran into a cheapskate who was earnestly doing something he thought was important, if you couldn't immediately bring him money or some other benefit, you shouldn't disturb him. You should just patiently wait for him to finish what he was doing. That was something Zhang Tie had learned from Tang De. So after entering the room, Zhang Tie said nothing. He stood a little awkwardly in front of Manager Hans's big desk, patiently waiting for the fat bastard to finish wiping the shiny buttons on his coat. At the same time, he quietly took in the most luxurious room he had ever seen.
It really was the most luxurious room Zhang Tie had ever seen. In his fifteen miserable years, he hadn't set foot in anywhere fancy. Fortunately, his time working at a general store had trained his eye, and as soon as he walked into the office, he could tell that the floor was made of cedar, Manager Hans's desk of nanmu, and the other pieces of furniture and cabinets of an even more precious golden teak. In one corner of the office, Zhang Tie spotted a huge, naturally occurring single-point crystal weighing at least five kilograms, set in a pot of Crystal Sand. Heaven help him, it was the first time he'd ever seen a crystal that big. Before the Great Cataclysm, people had treated crystals as decorations. Afterward, knowledge of their true use had spread. A common fact everyone knew in this era was that any natural crystal weighing more than three kilograms had another name: a "Crystal Generator." Wherever one was placed, the energy and magnetic field it gathered could purify and enhance the energy in the surrounding space for dozens of square meters, greatly benefiting people's health and cultivation. Some even believed that if a person spent enough time in the energy field of such a crystal, it could cleanse the negative energy clinging to them and bring them good luck...
Zhang Tie guessed that a "Crystal Generator" like this, weighing over five kilograms and of decent quality, would cost at least forty gold coins...
He was so damn rich. Zhang Tie sighed. A crystal like this was at least fourth-grade. Even Tang De's shop didn't have one. It was already considered standard "strategic material," unavailable in ordinary shops. Only shops granted a special business license could sell one. In Black Flame City, the only organization that monopolized sales of crystals of this grade was the Coal and Steel Union's own trading company.
Though Manager Hans knew Zhang Tie had come in, it took him a full three minutes to finish polishing his coat buttons. At last, he sighed with satisfaction, put away the polishing cloth and monocle in a drawer, and looked at Zhang Tie.
"You're a well-behaved little fellow!" Manager Hans praised him first, apparently pleased that Zhang Tie had been thoughtful enough not to interrupt his enjoyment. "Now, let's see what you want!"
Manager Hans was so fat that his face looked like a steamed bun someone had punched hard. His features were buried in rolls of flesh. Compared to him, Tang De could have been called slender.
Zhang Tie stepped forward and handed over with both hands the letter of introduction Captain Colin had given him. Then he stood straight in front of Manager Hans's desk and put on an honest expression. "I'm a student at National No. 7 Boys' Middle School. Captain Colin said he'd arranged a decent part-time job for me here!"
"Ha, decent? Of course it's a decent part-time job..." Manager Hans took the letter, skimmed it, and laughed. Then he gave Zhang Tie a once-over with a look that made him feel a little uneasy. "The hours are after school, from six to eleven in the evening. So, little fellow, how many days a week can you work here?"
"Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings," Zhang Tie replied after thinking it over. He had to go to Tang De's on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and help his mother at home on the weekends, so that left only Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings.
"Only three days a week. A little light on hours, but all right..." Manager Hans took a document from the drawer and quickly began writing on it, rattling off a string of instructions. "The wages are settled once a week. When there's work, you'll get, hmm... seventy copper coins an hour. If you do well, that can go up. You must report at six sharp on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. One minute late, and you've worked for nothing that day. The Battle Hall won't reimburse any expenses you incur yourself. If a customer tips you, you can pocket it; you don't have to hand it over. Colin should have told you what the job involves..."
"Captain Colin said..." Zhang Tie was just about to repeat Colin's glowing promises when the office door suddenly swung open. Someone hurried in without knocking. "Manager, the customer in Room Six is getting impatient..."
"Where's Harry?" Manager Hans shot up from behind his desk and suddenly roared in anger. "Did that Harry fellow not come in today? If we offend our gods—our honored Battle Hall customers, those wealthy patrons—do you want me stripped naked and thrown into the sewer?"
"Harry's contract ended yesterday, and he quit!" The newcomer answered with a grimace. "I already reported it to you. What do we do now..."
Manager Hans's angry voice cut off abruptly. Two seconds later, both men in the room suddenly stared at Zhang Tie. Hans put on a gentle smile. "You... little fellow, what's your name? Hurry over and sign. You're in luck... Hmm..." The fat on Manager Hans's face twitched as if it pained him. "I'll even add ten copper coins an hour. The job is yours!"
Zhang Tie was secretly delighted. He hadn't expected a veteran to skip out on his first day, leaving him with this job. It paid well, had good benefits, would keep him fit, and would bring him into contact with lots of wealthy bigwigs. Maybe he'd even get to rub shoulders with beautiful women.
See? When you had good luck, there was no stopping it. He'd barely arrived, and it hadn't even been an hour before Manager Hans gave him a raise. This was the first paying job Zhang Tie had ever had in his life.
So Zhang Tie didn't hesitate. He barely even glanced at the contract before taking the pen Manager Hans handed him and scrawling his name across the page.
As soon as Zhang Tie had signed, Manager Hans hurriedly stowed the contract in a drawer. Before Zhang Tie could say a word, the newcomer grabbed his hand and dragged him outside. Manager Hans called after them, as if suddenly remembering something. "The kid's covered in sweat! Give him a bath..."
He really had landed this high-paying part-time job. He really had found work at Iron Thorn Combat Hall. When there was work, he'd earn eighty copper coins an hour. If he worked four or five hours a week, wouldn't that mean two silver coins? Two silver coins! Happiness had come so suddenly that Zhang Tie's head was spinning during the rest of the process. He simply let other people handle him, like a can on a factory production line, getting the full assembly-line treatment. They hurried him through a shower, dressed him in soft cotton-and-linen clothes and socks, then pulled him aside and layered something over the outfit. It looked like padding or armor, covering his chest, back, crotch, and the sides of his arms. It looked pretty imposing. Finally, when someone pulled a huge helmet-like guard over his head, covering half his face, Zhang Tie realized something was off. Was this his work uniform? Why was it so strange? Something felt wrong.
But before Zhang Tie could ask, someone led him into a room...
The room was huge, nearly two hundred square meters. The floor was covered in a slightly springy, nonslip mat, and the four walls were lined with enormous padded sections that looked like leather sacks. There was only one other person in the vast room: a brat, about eleven or twelve, with reddish-brown hair and a cold expression, dressed in a white martial arts uniform as he struck a practice dummy.
Zhang Tie saw the brat, and the brat saw him. He stopped at once. Zhang Tie put on what he thought was a warm, friendly smile, walked up to the kid, and bent down. "Hey, little buddy..."
Without warning, the brat spun and unleashed a vicious side kick. His foot landed squarely on Zhang Tie's head. Zhang Tie didn't even make a sound. Before he could finish a single word, his vision went black, and he disgracefully fainted...
Zhang Tie didn't know how much time had passed. His nose started itching, and after he sneezed, he slowly came to. His head felt as if dozens of little men were beating drums inside it, thump, thump, thump. He was still dizzy and groggy.
"You're awake, kid..." The man standing in front of Zhang Tie was a bald bruiser in his thirties, with a few bruises on his face and muscles knotted all over like a savage bull. Seeing Zhang Tie open his eyes, the man smiled, put away the small porcelain bottle he'd held beneath Zhang Tie's nose, then opened a nearby storage trunk and began changing his clothes.
Zhang Tie sat up and found himself lying on a wide bench. There were four or five people in the room. Before he could say anything, nausea surged through him. He spotted what looked like a trash can in the corner of a locker and ran over, covering his mouth as he dry-heaved into it. Tears streamed from his eyes, but he brought up nothing but a little sticky saliva. After retching for a while, his head finally felt a bit better. He returned to the bench, sat down, shook his head hard, and tried to figure out what had happened...
Wait! Zhang Tie sprang to his feet and looked around. Where was that brat? If he ever saw him again, he'd beat the shit out of him!
"Kid, you can call this job sparring if you want to be polite. If you want to be blunt, you're a human punching bag. But even a punching bag has to know the tricks of the trade. A little flesh wound is nothing, but you have to protect your head and your privates. I've never seen anyone as stupid as you, just handing over his head to get kicked..." Another man, already changed, came over, patted Zhang Tie on the shoulder, and left the changing room with his bag.
What? A sparring partner? A human punching bag? Zhang Tie was dumbstruck...