The next morning, Jiang Yi opened his eyes. He was still lying on a hard wooden plank bed, in a narrow, pitch-black room that reeked of must.
Nothing had changed in the slightest.
He propped himself up with his hands and tapped his head. His eyes stared blankly at a single spot, as if he were in a daze.
The page of the Celestial Book, covered in tiny, tadpole-like script, slowly materialized, its surface shimmering with an iridescent glow.
'Good, good. It wasn't a dream. Now I just have to wait two days... to verify this Opportunity.'
Jiang Yi heaved a long sigh of relief. Although his bitter life as one of the Mortal Servants—treated like Cattle and Horses—hadn't changed overnight, the chance to turn his fortunes around was now firmly in his grasp.
He wanted to ask more, but the golden paper dimmed once again. It was unresponsive to his touch, as if it could no longer support the examination of karma.
'Perhaps I can't ask another question because this current Opportunity hasn't been resolved yet.'
'Cause and effect... karma. There must be a cause to have an effect. Does the first fruit have to fall before I can pick the second?'
'Or does it only give a new answer once the previous one has been resolved?'
Jiang Yi pondered, thinking it was a shame.
He had hoped to ask more questions to better understand his situation and give himself more of a safety net.
After a moment, he wrapped himself in his thick, dusty-gray Daoist Robe and pushed open the door.
Out in the courtyard, the air was freezing cold. A thin layer of ice had formed on the water cistern.
Jiang Yi picked up a wooden ladle and scooped out some water to wash his face.
'I have to get to work today, better be quick about it!'
After hastily washing down a few bites of dry rations with plain water, Jiang Yi strode out of the Big Mixed Courtyard and headed for the Quenching Room.
The Mortal Servant residences were located halfway up Red Flame Peak. Farther down the mountain were various shops for purchasing daily necessities.
The "workshops" where they did their labor were located near the summit.
By the time Jiang Yi arrived, many of his "coworkers" had already gathered. They were squeezed together in a dark, bustling crowd.
He scanned the crowd. Everyone wore the same dusty-gray Daoist Robe, and their expressions were grim. It was rare to see anyone looking energetic; they were more like mules being herded by a livestock trader.
Jiang Yi quietly joined the back of the line, waiting for the Servants from the various rooms to come out and distribute the work tokens.
Red Flame Peak's main purpose was to refine White Bone Magical Swords. The process was divided among three workshops: the Quenching Room, the Grinding and Carving Room, and the Forging Room.
The general process involved taking the hard bones collected by the sect and first sending them to the Quenching Room. There, a furnace would burn away impurities, and the usable materials would be selected. Next, they went to the Grinding and Carving Room to be scoured and polished, and finally, they were forged.
Only after all these steps were completed was it considered a qualified Artifact Embryo for a Magical Artifact.
The role of the Mortal Servants was primarily to act as "laborers" performing repetitive tasks.
The reason the sect didn't just recruit from the endless supply of common Mortals was that the environment in every workshop was incredibly harsh. Without True Qi to protect their bodies, a person would often die within a few days.
'This Demon Dao... they seem to understand 'asset management'? Is this the difference between a proper Daoist Lineage and Method versus the Heterodox Sects and Outer Dao?'
Jiang Yi mused on this. In his mind, true Demon Cultivators should be utterly ruthless, simply abducting mortals and working them to death before replacing them with a new batch.
He never imagined they would establish a form of Daoism, cultivate their own "consumables," and regularly recruit workers for their "factory."
"Brother Yi, you're here bright and early."
He the Venerable, who had somehow appeared in the line, spotted Jiang Yi and said with a smile,
"I made a fool of myself yesterday, Brother Yi. Thanks for carrying me back."
Jiang Yi waved his hand.
"Don't be a stranger, Brother He. We're all from the same courtyard. Besides, I should thank you for telling me the inside story. It was a real eye-opener."
He the Venerable grinned. That bowl of Spirit Rice and the meal of wine and meat had clearly brought him and Jiang Yi closer.
"The new recruits will be starting in a few days. If we talk to Old Yang, we might be able to snag a post training them. It'd be better than suffering in front of those furnaces."
Jiang Yi just smiled without saying a word.
The Marshal of the Quenching Room was named Yang Xun. He was at the Qi Cultivation Fifth Layer, and his eccentric personality made him very difficult to deal with. Only someone like He the Venerable, who could rely on his seniority and familiarity with the man, dared to make a few cheeky remarks.
Based on the original owner's memories, surviving twelve full years as a Mortal Servant on Red Flame Peak was no easy feat.
Too many "coworkers" had died silently over the years, their names long forgotten.
In the vast Qianji Sect, there was never a shortage of people who tried too hard to get ahead.
But most of them ended up either thrown into the furnaces of the Quenching Room to be burned like charcoal or used as fertilizer on Gathering Herbs Peak.
'Do more work, talk less, and always remember your status as a disposable asset. That's the only way to stay alive.'
This was the personal code Jiang Yi had silently adopted to survive.
"The gates are opening!"
Before long, the courtyard gates used for work assignments swung open. Three Little Daoist Children with rosy lips and pearly teeth stood there holding Divination Tubes, calling out names one by one:
"Zheng Dajiang, Grinding and Carving Room... He the Venerable, Forging Room... Jiang Yi, Quenching Room!"
Standing at the end of the line, Jiang Yi heard his name and hurried forward to receive his Copper Token.
He glanced over at He the Venerable, who had been assigned to the Forging Room. The bitter look on the man's face suggested his plans to slack off had just gone up in smoke.
"Off to work!"
Someone shouted, and the crowd of Mortal Servants scattered like startled birds, rushing toward their assigned workshops.
WHOOSH!
As Jiang Yi stepped into the Quenching Room, he was met with a cavernous interior, as tall and spacious as a great hall.
Five or six massive furnaces, each at least ten feet tall, were arranged around the room. Waves of heat rolled off them, thick and suffocating.
Following the assignment on his token, he walked over to one of the furnaces. Piled beside it was a small mountain of ghastly white bones, a horrifying sight to behold.
These "Materials" had been processed beforehand. They were mostly vertebrae, arm bones, and leg bones of a similar length—about two feet long.
Jiang Yi was working with a group of four other "coworkers." They were all experienced, and they quickly fell into their respective roles.
Some hauled charcoal, some added Materials, and some controlled the temperature. They rotated jobs every hour.
Even though there were no Servant supervisors present in the Quenching Room, work proceeded in an orderly fashion. The Mortal Servants were diligent, not daring to slack off.
After all, failing to complete the work, or doing a poor job, would earn you a whipping at best. At worst, you'd lose your life.
The punishment depended entirely on the mood of the supervising Servant.
'Getting 'downsized' in the Demon Dao is no joke. Getting laid off here means you're reporting for duty with King Yama.'
Jiang Yi stood before a ventilation opening at the base of the furnace, holding a large, thick Palm Leaf Fan with both hands. He began to swing it back and forth.
FWOOSH!
The flames suddenly surged, leaping high into the air. Down below, some of the "coworkers" added more charcoal, while others climbed ladders to the mouth of the furnace and fed the hard bones into the inferno.
The Quenching Room filled with the acrid smoke of sulfur and saltpeter. Combined with the rapidly intensifying, blazing heat, it wasn't long before the Mortal Servants were drenched in sweat.
Jiang Yi was no exception. He was responsible for fanning the flames, which was the most grueling job in the Quenching Room.
The intensity of the fire had to be constantly adjusted—never too high, never too low—which required intense focus.
'No wonder He the Venerable complains so much. The Quenching Room is definitely tougher than usual today.'
Jiang Yi silently circulated his True Qi to dispel the fiery toxins he was inhaling. He fanned with perfect rhythm, making the work much easier for the others who were adding charcoal and quenching the bones.
It wasn't that he was naturally a hard worker; there was simply a certain etiquette to working in the workshops.
If you constantly shirked your duties and burdened others, your reputation would sour, and the other Mortal Servants would refuse to work with you.
Then, if a mistake happened on your shift, you couldn't be sure they wouldn't let you take the fall.
Being ostracized by your coworkers made it very difficult to survive for long.
Thus, Jiang Yi always did his part, never causing trouble for his coworkers, and had earned a fairly good reputation among them.
An hour finally crawled by.
"Brother Yi, thanks for your hard work. A shift with you is always a breeze."
One of the men took the Palm Leaf Fan from Jiang Yi's hands as the shift changed.
"Of course."
Jiang Yi's lips were chapped and his throat was parched. He barely had the strength to speak.
After a short fifteen-minute break, the Quenching Room was once again a hive of bustling, fiery activity.
This time, Marshal Yang was present to supervise, so no one dared to dawdle.
Working like Cattle and Horses, they completely lost track of time.
By the time Jiang Yi stepped out of the Quenching Room, the sun had already set, its lingering glow illuminating the mountain peak.
The cold air outside was bone-chilling. Jiang Yi's face, scalded red from the heat, looked like a boiled shrimp.
When the wind hit it, the pain was like being pricked by needles.
"Brother Yi, why are you working yourself to death? We have to do this every day. Just doing enough to get by is fine."
Seeing Jiang Yi's state, He the Venerable shook his head again and again.
"You should get some medicine for your face. You're a handsome young man, but right now your face is as red as a hot coal, like you've rubbed chili paste all over it."
After being roasted near the furnace for four hours, Jiang Yi was dizzy and utterly exhausted.
He thanked He the Venerable for his concern and then went to the Labor Institute to return his copper token.
A Servant had drawn four marks on it with a vermilion brush, indicating four hours of satisfactory work with no errors.
The Mortal Servants all depended on these tokens to receive their pay in talisman money. If a Servant didn't approve their work, a large portion of their wages would be docked.
"Alright, you can go."
After Jiang Yi handed in his token, the Little Daoist Child recorded his wages for the day in a ledger. Payment would be distributed mid-month.
'I have to endure this life for twelve years just to get a moment's rest.'
Jiang Yi wrapped his thick Daoist Robe around himself and headed toward the mid-level of the mountain. He didn't let the Opportunity from the Celestial Book go to his head, thinking he was about to soar to the heavens and could stop taking his work seriously.
His experience from his past life—of finally making it—was a stark reminder: until the final results are posted, you can't assume victory is guaranteed or celebrate prematurely.
'If it's not in my hands, it's not mine.'
Jiang Yi thought to himself, continuing to live his days as he always had.
He would quietly wait for the Opportunity to arrive in two days.