Early the next morning, Jiang Yi opened his eyes. Beneath him was still the hard wooden bed, and his lodging was still the cramped, pitch-black room that smelled of mildew.
Nothing had changed from before.
He propped himself up with one hand and knocked on his head, his eyes fixed on a spot as though he were in a daze.
The page of the Heavenly Book covered in tiny tadpole-like characters slowly coalesced, iridescent light flowing across its surface.
"Good, good. It wasn't a dream. Just two more days... then I can verify this opportunity."
Jiang Yi let out a long breath. Though his bitter days as a beast of burden among the Mortal Laborers had not changed immediately, he firmly held the chance to turn his fortunes around.
He wanted to ask more, but the golden page dimmed again, unmoving at his touch, as though it could no longer sustain an examination of karma.
"Could it be that this opportunity hasn't run its course, so I can't ask another question?
Karma, cause and effect-only with a cause can there be fruit. Must the first fruit fall before I can pluck the second?
Or must one question be resolved before another can be answered?"
Jiang Yi pondered this, inwardly regretting it.
He had wanted to ask more and learn more, to give himself greater security.
After a little while, he wrapped himself in his thick, dusty-gray Daoist robe and pushed open the door.
When he reached the courtyard, the world was bitterly cold, and a thin layer of ice had formed in the water vat.
Jiang Yi took a wooden dipper and scooped out water to wash.
He had work today. He had to be quick!
He hurriedly ate a few mouthfuls of filling dry rations with plain water, then strode out of the communal courtyard toward the Quenching Room.
The Mortal Laborers lived halfway up Crimson Flame Peak. Farther down were all manner of shops, making it convenient to buy daily necessities.
Near the summit were the "workshops" where they worked.
By the time Jiang Yi arrived, quite a few "coworkers" had already gathered, crowding together in a dense, bustling mass.
At a glance, every one of them wore a dusty-gray Daoist robe and looked rather grim. Few seemed spirited, like mules and horses being herded along by livestock dealers.
Jiang Yi silently joined the back, waiting for the duty officers of the various rooms to come out, draw lots, and issue tokens.
Crimson Flame Peak mainly refined White Bone Dharma Swords, with three rooms beneath it: quenching, engraving, and forging.
The general process was to send the hard bones purchased and gathered by the sect through the Quenching Room first, burning away impurities in furnaces and selecting usable pieces, then to the Engraving Room for scraping and polishing, and finally to forging.
Only after every step was completed did they count as qualified Law Artifact blanks.
The Mortal Laborers mainly served as "workers" performing repetitive operations.
The reason they did not recruit ordinary mortals, who were as numerous as wild grass, was that the conditions in every workshop were harsh. Without True Qi within their bodies to withstand them, people would generally die within days.
These demonic cultivators... even understand "asset management"? Could this be the difference between an orthodox lineage and the unorthodox Outer Dao?
Jiang Yi pondered. In his view, true demonic cultivators should drain the pond to catch the fish, abducting mortals directly and replacing each batch as it died.
Why would they establish a Dao Academy, cultivate expendables, and regularly recruit workers into their factories?
"You're early, Brother Yi."
At some point, He Laohun had joined the line too. When he saw Jiang Yi, he said with a smile:
"I made a fool of myself yesterday, Brother Yi. Sorry for troubling you to carry me back, too."
Jiang Yi waved a hand.
"You're being too formal, Brother He. We live in the same courtyard. Thanks to you telling me the inside story, I learned a great deal."
He Laohun smiled. A bowl of spirit rice and a meal of meat and wine had brought him considerably closer to Jiang Yi.
"The new recruits will enter the rooms in a few days. Let's speak to Old Yang. We might land a job showing the newcomers the ropes and spare ourselves the suffering in front of the furnaces."
Jiang Yi only smiled, saying nothing.
The Quenching Room's duty officer was named Yang Xun, with cultivation at the fifth level of Qi Refining. He was eccentric and difficult to deal with. Only He Laohun, relying on their familiarity and his seniority, dared crack a few jokes.
Judging by the original owner's memories, lasting twelve full years as a Mortal Laborer on Crimson Flame Peak was no easy feat.
Far too many "coworkers" had died without a sound along the way, with no one even remembering their names.
The vast Qianji Sect never lacked people who dreamed of rising above the rest and leaped about with all their might.
But most ended up thrown into the Quenching Room's furnaces as charcoal, or turned into fertilizer for Herb-Gathering Peak's flowers.
Work more, speak less, and remember his place as an expendable-only then could he preserve his life.
This was the way of dealing with the world that Jiang Yi silently set for himself.
"The gates are open."
Before long, the courtyard gates where work assignments were issued swung open. Three young Daoist attendants with rosy lips and white teeth held lots canisters and called names one by one.
"Zheng Dajiang, Engraving Room... He Laohun, Forging Room... Jiang Yi, Quenching Room!"
Standing at the end of the line, Jiang Yi heard his name and hurried forward to collect his Copper Token.
He glanced at He Laohun, who had been assigned to the Forging Room. His face was bitter; evidently, his plan to slack off had fallen through.
"Off to work!"
Someone shouted, and the Mortal Laborers scattered like birds and beasts, streaming toward the different workshops.
Roar!
Jiang Yi entered the Quenching Room. Its interior was lofty and spacious, almost like a great hall.
Five or six large furnaces stood around it, each over ten feet tall, their billowing heat surging like waves.
Following his token's assignment, he approached one furnace. Beside it lay a small mountain of ghastly white bones, frightening to behold.
These "materials" had been processed beforehand. Most were spines, arm bones, and leg bones of similar length, roughly two feet long.
Jiang Yi had four "coworkers" in total. They were all experienced hands and quickly took up their respective duties.
Some carried charcoal, some fed in materials, and some controlled the temperature. They rotated every two hours.
Although no duty officer appeared to supervise the Quenching Room, everything remained orderly. The Mortal Laborers worked diligently, not daring to slack off.
After all, leaving work unfinished or doing it poorly meant a whipping at best and losing one's life at worst.
How they were punished depended entirely on the duty officer's mood.
Being "optimized out" by demonic cultivators is no joke. Losing your job means reporting to the King of Hell.
Holding a large, thick palm-leaf fan in both hands, Jiang Yi stood below the furnace and waved it back and forth at the ventilation holes.
Whoosh!
The flames abruptly swelled, leaping much higher. Some of his "coworkers" added charcoal below, while others climbed a ladder to the furnace mouth and fed the hard bones inside one by one.
The Quenching Room was filled with choking sulfur and saltpeter fumes. Together with the swiftly rising, blazing heat, they soon left the Mortal Laborers sweating in streams.
Jiang Yi was naturally no exception, especially since he was responsible for fanning the flames, the most grueling job in the Quenching Room.
The fire had to vary in intensity, neither too high nor too low, demanding focused concentration.
No wonder He Laohun complains endlessly. This Quenching Room really is much harder to endure than it used to be.
Jiang Yi silently circulated his True Qi, dispersing the scorching fire toxins he inhaled. Every stroke of his fan was just right, making things considerably easier for the coworkers adding charcoal and quenching bones.
It was not that he was naturally diligent and hardworking, but that working in the workshops also had its rules.
If someone frequently shirked and burdened others, repeated offenses would ruin his reputation, and the other Mortal Laborers would no longer be willing to work alongside him.
Otherwise, if something went wrong one day, they might well be implicated.
And once his coworkers shunned him, it would be difficult to stay for long.
Thus, Jiang Yi always did his share and never troubled his coworkers, earning a rather good reputation.
At last, the two hours were over.
"Thanks for your hard work, Brother Yi. Working with you really makes things easier."
One man took the palm-leaf fan from Jiang Yi, beginning the rotation.
"Just doing my part."
Jiang Yi's lips were cracked and his throat felt scorched. He truly had little strength left to speak.
After a brief fifteen-minute rest, the Quenching Room returned to its fiery bustle of work.
This time, Duty Officer Yang was there to supervise, and no one dared delay.
Deep in the toil of a beast of burden, one lost all sense of how long the days were.
By the time Jiang Yi stepped out of the Quenching Room, the sun was sinking, its lingering glow illuminating the peak.
The cold outside pierced to the bone. Jiang Yi's face was like a cooked prawn, scorched red.
When the wind blew against it, it even stung as though pricked by needles.
"Brother Yi, why work yourself so hard? We have to come here every day. Doing a passable job is enough."
Seeing Jiang Yi like this, He Laohun shook his head repeatedly.
"Hurry and get some medicine to put on your face. You were a fine-looking young fellow, but now your face looks like red-hot charcoal, as if someone smeared a layer of chilies over it."
After roasting in front of the furnace for eight hours, Jiang Yi was already dizzy, his head throbbing, and utterly exhausted.
He thanked He Laohun for his concern, then went to the labor courtyard to return his Copper Token.
The duty officer had marked four strokes on it with a vermilion brush, meaning his four two-hour shifts had been satisfactory and free of mistakes.
All the Mortal Laborers had to use these tokens to collect their Talisman Money. Without the duty officer's approval, a considerable portion of their pay would be docked.
"All done. You may go."
Once Jiang Yi returned his token, the young Daoist attendant recorded that day's Talisman Money in the accounts, to be paid out together in the middle of the month.
I have to endure twelve years of this life before I can catch even a breath.
Wrapped in his thick Daoist robe, Jiang Yi headed halfway down the mountain. He had not assumed that obtaining an opportunity from the Heavenly Book meant he would soar straight into the heavens, and therefore dismissed his work.
His experience of successfully securing a position in his previous life stood before him: until the public announcement stage, he must never consider victory assured and crow in triumph prematurely.
Until it's in my hands, it isn't mine.
Jiang Yi thought this to himself and continued to live dutifully.
He quietly awaited the opportunity that would arrive in two days.
Before you continue