Broken-Bodied Servant

Pain.

It felt as though every bone in his body had been repeatedly smashed by a heavy hammer; with every breath, a needle-like, stabbing pain lanced through his chest.

Shen Yuan snapped his eyes open, his turbid and dim vision slowly focusing.

Damp, moldy straw, a hard-packed dirt floor, and an air filled with a mixture of sweat, mud, and a faint stench of rotting herbs.

"Hisss..."

He propped himself up against the ground, wanting to sit up, but as soon as he exerted a tiny bit of force with his right arm, a piercing, agonizing pain instantly spread through his whole body, his arm hanging limply down without being able to muster even the slightest bit of strength.

This was not his body.

The previous second, he was still lying in bed staying up late reading web novels, and the next second a dizziness spun the world, his consciousness plunging into this unfamiliar vessel.

Countless shattered memory fragments rushed into his mind all at once like a tide.

This was the Azure Cloud Sect, a renowned martial arts sect of the lower realm.

The original owner of this body, also named Shen Yuan, had once been a top-tier prodigy among the servant disciples, only for him to be framed three years ago under the charge of secretly learning inner-sect cultivation techniques; someone had covertly shattered his whole-body root bones, completely crippling his cultivation, and demoted him to the Servant Office, where he did the bitterest and most grueling work day in and day out.

"It's this waste again? Shen Yuan, you still hanging out there lying down and playing dead?!"

A rough and harsh voice rang out at the firewood room door.

Shen Yuan turned his head to look over.

Standing at the doorway was a middle-aged man wearing gray steward robes, with triangular eyes, a bulbous nose, and a wooden plaque hanging from his waist that marked him as a servant steward—it was none other than Liu Er, the steward of the Servant Office. In the original owner's memories, this person had often made things difficult for him at every turn.

Liu Er kicked open the ajar wooden door, strode in, and looked down condescendingly at Shen Yuan, who was lying in the pile of straw, his brow furrowed tightly as spittle flew everywhere.

"The sun is already three poles high, and the other servants have long since gone up the mountain to work, yet you linger here idling. Don't think you can play the rogue just because you're covered in injuries; the sect provides food and lodging, it's not a place to raise trash!"

Shen Yuan bit down on his molars, forcefully suppressing the pain on his body, his brain spinning rapidly.

Having transmigrated over, he got a hell-difficulty start.

His root bones were shattered, his cultivation was completely destroyed, he was at the bottom of the sect letting anyone knead him into shape, and lurking in the dark was the mastermind who had crippled the original owner. If he went head-to-head with Liu Er right now, with his current injuries, he feared he wouldn't survive today.

He couldn't be impulsive.

He suppressed the raging fire surging deep within his heart and slowly spoke, his voice hoarse and dry, "Steward, my injuries haven't healed yet, and my whole body aches; I genuinely have no strength to spare."

"Injuries?" Liu Er sneered, taking a step forward and lowering his head to stare at Shen Yuan, his gaze filled with utter disdain, "You've been lying down for three days, where'd you get all these injuries from? I reckon you're just faking illness on purpose, trying to shirk your chores."

He raised his foot and kicked straight at Shen Yuan's leg.

Shen Yuan scrambled to roll aside and dodge, and the heavy kick landed squarely on the straw pile, sending straw debris scattering and flying in all directions.

"Steward!" Shen Yuan shouted in a low voice.

"What? You still dare glare at me?" Liu Er sneered, "Don't pull that look with me; I couldn't care less when you were living in glory, but now you're just a crippled servant. I'll give you two choices: either get up right now and go chop firewood in the back mountain, or don't collect your rations today."

With that, Liu Er crossed his arms and stood right at the doorway, looking like he was waiting to see Shen Yuan submit.

Outside the firewood room, two other working servants were poking their heads in to peer inside, whispering among themselves.

"He's getting scolded again, this Shen Yuan is miserable enough." "Who asked him to have high talent and provoke hatred before? His root bones are broken, what waves could he possibly make." "Steward Liu also received orders from above, otherwise there's no need to make things difficult for a cripple every single day."

The fragmented words drifted into Shen Yuan's ears.

The orders from above.

Shen Yuan's heart skipped a beat.

The original owner's memory fragments were messy and disorganized, with many key scenes blurred and unclear, only vaguely remembering that when his root bones were crippled, there was a familiar figure—an outer-sect disciple named Zhao Kun. But there was no evidence, and everything was merely speculation.

Liu Er was merely a dog; the person who truly wanted to deal with the original owner was hiding further behind.

Bruteforcing it had no benefits whatsoever.

Shen Yuan clenched his fists, his nails digging deeply into his palms; the pain sent from his skin and flesh allowed his chaotic thoughts to calm down somewhat.

Staying alive gave him a chance. He would endure for now and slowly gather clues.

He braced himself against the wall, inch by inch, and climbed up from the ground with difficulty. His entire skeleton creaked, and with every movement, it felt as though countless small knives were slicing through his flesh and blood.

Seeing him get up, a trace of smugness appeared on Liu Er's face, "It would've been done with if you'd just done this earlier. Hurry up and go to the back mountain to chop firewood; you must chop three hundred catties today. Be short by a single catty, and your dinner gets canceled outright."

Dropping those words, Liu Er flicked his sleeves and turned to leave.

The servants who had been watching the commotion at the doorway of the firewood room also scattered like birds.

Only Shen Yuan was left in the cramped firewood room.

He leaned against the cold earthen wall, taking large, ragged breaths, and looked down at his own hands. His palms were covered in thick calluses, his tendons and bones had suffered heavy trauma, and his meridians were like cracked water pipes, incapable of storing even a sliver of true qi.

"Zhao Kun..." Shen Yuan low-voicedly uttered the name, a trace of cold light flashing across the depths of his eyes.

Within the memory fragments, the proud face of that white-robed outer-sect disciple flashed past.

Was it really him who had crippled the original owner with his own hands? Were there other people behind the scenes? Everything was an unknown.

His stomach began to rumble, making him both hungry and aching all over.

Leaning on the wall, Shen Yuan shuffled out of the firewood room step by step.

In the direction of the back mountain, the forest was lush and verdant, and the howls of wild beasts could be faintly heard. Three hundred catties of firewood was simply impossible to accomplish with his current shattered body.

If he failed to complete the task, he would go hungry. In the long run, even if he wasn't secretly harmed by someone, he would be worn to death right here.

He could not sit still and await death.

Shen Yuan walked along the dirt road of the Servant Compound; quite a few servants passed by on both sides, looking at him with gazes of sympathy, mockery, and the desire to avoid him at all costs.

"Look, that's Shen Yuan, the one whose root bones shattered." "What a pity, such a formidable person before, now he's no different from a piece of trash."

strands of discussion drilled into his ears.

Shen Yuan treated them all as if he heard nothing, his mind continuously sorting through the fragmented memories left behind by the original owner, trying to unearth more clues concerning the framing from back then.

Yet those most crucial fragments seemed to be artificially covered by a layer of dark fog, no matter how he tried to recall them, they refused to piece together completely.

Before he knew it, he had already reached the foot of the back mountain.

Soaring ancient trees blotted out the sun, and chilly winds swirled through the forest.

Shen Yuan picked up a heavily notched axe from the ground and gripped it in his hand, the axe handle chafing his palms painfully.

He raised his head to gaze into the gloomy depths of the back mountain.

A trace of unease vaguely rose from the bottom of his heart.

Was Liu Er really just simply sending him over to chop firewood, and nothing more?