From childhood to now, Zhang Tie had lived a simple, even monotonous life, going back and forth between just two places. After school on Wednesday, he returned to Iron Thorn Combat Hall on Mingguang Street. To him, Iron Thorn Combat Hall had turned his two-point routine into a three-point one, adding another stop between home and school. Tang De's grocery store was one point, and Iron Thorn Combat Hall was another. Those two stops had nearly doubled the size of his world. Some people might have been driven mad by such a mechanical way of life, but Zhang Tie had lived like this for more than a decade without finding anything wrong with it. From a very young age, he'd known that only a tiny minority of people in this world had the power to choose how they lived. Clearly, with both his parents being ordinary citizens of Black Flame City, he hadn't been born with that power. In any age, only a few people lived grand, carefree lives, repaid grudges and kindness, rode into battle, won the hearts of beautiful women, directed the fate of nations, and drank as they sang. Most people were like flawed products rolling down a factory assembly line from birth to death. Before they'd had the chance to see the world beyond life's great factory, they were scrapped and sent back to the furnace.
A school like Black Flame City National Seventh Middle School was undoubtedly one of the assembly lines in that factory. Most of its products would go on to pass through other lines—the army, factories, farms—and in the end, they'd return to the furnace at the crematorium. That was the course of most people's lives. If nothing unexpected happened, perhaps he'd follow that same path one day.
Over the past two days, Zhang Tie had found his mind much clearer than before. He'd been thinking about things he'd never considered, or couldn't have imagined, in the past. Unwilling to become a shoddily made product on the assembly line, one with no say in its own fate, Barry and the others had formed the Airplane Brotherhood and silently fought against the hand they'd been dealt. To escape the line, Gelis had worked himself to the bone at school and earned the qualification of a Level Two Warrior at a young age. And to escape it, countless people had donned a Prospector's gear, wagering their lives and futures on an unknown fortune. In wave after wave, they'd set out for the black, uncharted regions on the map, never to return...
As he stepped onto Mingguang Street, the last image to cross Zhang Tie's mind was of an old man he'd once met while working at the grocery store. His hair and beard had gone completely white. Though he was in the twilight of his life, he still wore a Prospector's gear. After exchanging a few things at the store, he'd sat beside the wall across from its entrance, clutching a battered sword. He'd smiled, sipped his liquor, and watched the sunset. After resting for a while, he'd stood up, tightened his belt, and headed back toward the train station. Zhang Tie had never seen him again...
Perhaps the smile on the old man's face had been so peaceful and composed against the backdrop of the setting sun that it clashed so sharply with his circumstances. That shabby, elderly Prospector had left a deep impression on Zhang Tie. Back then, he hadn't understood the strange expression on the old man's face as he sat on the street, drinking cheap liquor and watching the sunset. Yet that weathered, smiling face had often resurfaced in his memories. Only now did he vaguely understand the pride behind that faint smile, and the calm that lay beneath it: I lived with all I had!
Everyone in this age was struggling. Some worked hard to become top-grade products on the assembly line, hoping for better treatment. Some tried to break free of it, regardless of whether they'd end up battered, bruised, and broken. And some strove to become the owners of the assembly line. Those who already had it all wanted even more!
The last time he'd come to Mingguang Street, everything on it had made Zhang Tie feel painfully out of place. But now, looking at all the glittering splendor, he suddenly understood: his discomfort came from the instinctive timidity and insecurity of a half-finished product on the assembly line when faced with the people who owned and managed it. That was simply how this city's rules worked. Until he shed the status of an ordinary half-finished product in other people's eyes, everything on this street would weigh heavily on him.
He was trying to transform himself from an ordinary half-finished product into a high-quality one, wasn't he? Heh... heh... Half-finished product? To hell with that! His mother would never agree to anyone calling him that. In her eyes, he was the most precious treasure in the world! There were only three or five people whose opinions mattered to him. What other people thought of him had nothing to do with him. Why should he put on the half-finished-product act they expected, just to spare their feelings?
Thinking of how his mother had only stopped calling him "Precious" two years ago, after he'd firmly protested, and had switched to his other nickname, "Guoguo," Zhang Tie smiled. Then, with a more relaxed, appreciative stride and gaze, he made his way through the dazzling sights of Mingguang Street and returned to No. 18, where Iron Thorn Combat Hall stood.
When Zhang Tie returned to Iron Thorn Combat Hall, the four men guarding the entrance glanced at him and let him in. They didn't stop him like they had the last time. Zhang Tie eyed their gleaming full-body armor with envy. This kind of armor had astonishing defensive power and resembled the standard armor worn by a Heavy Armored Spearman. The entire set weighed over seventy kilograms. It was not only imposing but also proof of strength. Anyone who could move freely in armor like that had to be at least a Level Five Warrior. The fact that Iron Thorn Combat Hall had four warriors of Level Five or higher guarding its front gate showed just how terrifyingly powerful it was.
He walked through the gate, crossed the fountain, and returned to the front desk. With his new insight, Zhang Tie finally understood why Mary, that gorgeous woman, had "praised him for having ambition" last time. A woman trying to use her beauty and other advantages to escape the assembly line naturally wouldn't want to have anything to do with someone still stuck on it, someone with no future. The way he'd treated her last time had indeed been a little lecherous and over the top.
Just as a flicker of guilt crossed his mind, Zhang Tie rounded the fountain and saw the long row of beautiful women at the front desk, each with her own charm. Unlike last time, when they'd quickly dismissed him, the moment he walked in, every pair of eyes fixed on him. Eighty percent were scornful and disdainful; the other twenty percent were full of curiosity. The women who looked down on him were easy to pick out. They'd glare at him for a couple of seconds, then turn their faces away as proudly as a real swan looking at a "very ambitious" toad, lift their chins, and refuse to look at him again. The remaining twenty percent kept their eyes on him as he approached, smiling as if they knew something he didn't.
Was Mary not here? Zhang Tie glanced over the women behind the service counter and quickly shoved his right hand into his trouser pocket to restrain the unruly thing. The women were all wearing the staff uniform here: tight tops with low necklines and loose athletic pants. One look was enough to see all that fair skin and rolling cleavage. It was enough to make a man's nose bleed.
No one greeted him, and he wasn't going to invite trouble by trying to strike up a conversation. He walked past the service counter without a word. Only after he'd gone a few steps did he hear the women talking behind him.
"He's just a kid. How could he be as bad as you say?"
"Don't judge a book by its cover. These little brats nowadays are all precocious little devils. Mary said this guy was disgusting, worse than the customers. He tried to force himself on her the first time they met, and he even made lewd gestures at us!"
"Really? He doesn't look like it!"
"Aona, have you taken a fancy to him? Try him out and see!"
Then came a burst of laughter from the women...
Damn it. Zhang Tie knew his image among these women was ruined for good.
Since this was his second visit, he didn't need to report to Manager Hans. He only had to check in with Supervisor Baker, the man he'd seen last time in Manager Hans's office. Baker's main responsibility was to oversee the Battle Hall's Level One customers—that is, to serve the rich and powerful families' little brats. As the human punching bags for those brats, Zhang Tie naturally fell under his management. Perhaps it was a professional affliction from dealing with those little brats so often, but Supervisor Baker was always long-winded. Sometimes he'd repeat the same thing several times without realizing it.
Supervisor Baker seemed delighted to see Zhang Tie arrive. Then, in his cramped office, he spent over half an hour rambling about all the things Zhang Tie needed to pay attention to: which areas of the Battle Hall he could enter and which were off-limits, the proper etiquette for treating customers, and the rules to keep in mind while "sparring." They were all simple matters, but Baker still managed to repeat them twice.
Half an hour later, when Zhang Tie saw Baker's mouth starting to repeat everything for a third time, his head began to pound. He quickly spoke up.
"Supervisor, I understand everything you've told me. Should I go take a shower, change, and wait in the lounge for the customers now?"
"Oh..." Supervisor Baker glanced at the clock on the wall, then opened a drawer and tossed Zhang Tie a key with a tag attached. "This is the key to your locker in the changing room. You can keep your personal belongings in there from now on. The Battle Hall provides two sets of training clothes, so change into a clean set each time you come. You can hand your used clothes to the service desk, and someone will wash them for you. The Battle Hall will give you a new pair of socks every week. Those are all benefits of working here. Keep up the good work, young man..."