Outskirts of Ling City.

On a small plot of farmland, the middle-aged man with a grin on his face strutted forward with his chest puffed and hands behind his back.

This was Manager Qin, reaching level seven in Qi-refining, a proper late-stage Qi-refinement cultivator.

Leading his group of new workers, he stopped in front of some shabby, thatched huts, many with holes and in need of repairs.

"This will be your home in the future. If you need anything, I'm sure you'll be... resourceful enough to find a way yourself. Meals will be provided for those who work hard. Now, get ready to till the land and plant the seeds tomorrow. I don't want my harvest to be delayed or none of us will be able to bear the wrath from above…"

After his short speech, Manager Qin glanced at WeiWei who had her head bowed. "Oh, and everyone, do find some time to clean yourselves. I do prefer a not so... dirty sight."

"Yes, Manager Qin," came their weak response.

Manager Qin left with a grin, leaving a group of men in coarse and ragged clothes, most of them showing an ugly, black face.

The exception was WeiWei, whose demeanor radiated some despair, and Bubai with a dirty face who still had a silly, honest smile on his face. But this was only an act because inwardly, Bubai was also cursing.

The reason was their mortal employment contract.

Although there were minor variations between each of them, their conditions weren’t much different.

For Fang Bubai: 70% was taken by the landlord, 20% was allocated to the field Manager Qin, 5% was to be used for taxes, leaving only 5% of the harvest left.

The conditions were akin to slavery. With just 5% of the harvest, he might not even be able to sell it for enough to buy mortal food for himself, let alone cultivate. This was pure exploitation, even worse than his tenure in the sect!

In the sect, farming was a common task, and as a handyman disciple, Bubai did no less. There was also exploitation layer by layer there, but they still left some leeway for the handyman disciple, allowing some resources to flow out to avoid offending prospective disciples.

But out here, during their term of service, even their life and death were all in the hands of the employer.

Of course, the bigger fist makes the rules, and a mortal contract was just a piece of paper with no binding effect on the strong.

But for mortals with no power, this paper could sentence them to doom at any given moment.

Well, even without the contract, their death would at most be a bit more troublesome to handle, but it certainly wouldn’t gander much attention.

This was the tragedy of being a mortal, but it is also because they were mortals that they were chosen to farm the fields. Mortals are the easiest to exploit, and the more destitute one looks, the heavier the exploitation…

This was the reason why those with a shabby appearance had a higher probability of being the chosen ones. They were more desperate, agreeing to worse conditions because they had no backer.

Thud. The wooden door of one of the better-thatched huts suddenly slammed shut, clearly chosen by one of the stronger, muscular males in the batch.

The remaining muscular one sneered as he walked to another hut, glaring at the rest of the scrawny fellows, “I hope none of you drag me down when working or I, Tie San, will make your life worse than death.”

Then, his door creaked shut, shutting out the ugly faces of the remaining workers.

One of the older workers with a monkey-face stepped forward, declaring with a sly face, “Don’t mind them. We will all be fellows from now on. Everyone can call me Old Liu. If there is any problem, you can come to me.”

After bidding for some goodwill from the small group, Old Liu then stepped into the final hut with a better condition, claiming the last hut that didn’t need repairs.

Waking up from their stupor, cursing slightly, the rest of the group quickly scrambled for the remaining huts, eventually leaving only two at the edge, the most shabby of the bunch.

Bubai, with an honest smile on his face, walked into the one on the edge without a single complaint.

Staring at the gaping hole in the wall, he saw WeiWei in the hut on the other side, a similar hole in her wall. Unlucky. He shouldn’t have waited.

Noticing his gaze, the young lady panicked for a bit. With a dumb smile, Bubai honestly waved before he walked over and sat down on the pile of hay in the corner, hidden from his neighbor’s sight.

“Broom, bucket, hoe, but… there’s not even a single intact furnishing here, let alone a bed… even worse than the conditions when I was a handyman...”

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His life had definitely taken a dark turn. However, the facade had to be maintained for now.

Hearing WeiWei sweeping the dirt floor of her thatched hut, Bubai joined in, pretending to be absorbed in the task.

Time tapped away as they cleaned, the ambient, discontented mumbles of the other laborers serving as the backdrop to their first dance...

When Bubai went to fetch water, he saw one man, whose face was particularly dark with soot, grumbling to another, "This is worse than being a beggar on the streets."

Another, his clothes in tatters, nodded in agreement. "At least as a beggar, I didn't have to sell my life… no wonder those from the Beggar gang avoided signing up for this job…"

The discontent murmurs faded into reluctant agreement, and they continued their tasks, each one secretly plotting how to make the best of a bad situation.

Nearby, Old Liu approached the “honest” Bubai with a sly grin, "If I remember correctly… Chen Bubai, right? You seem like a good-natured fellow. Tell me what you think?”

Chen Bubai – his new pseudonym after leaving the Cloud Sword Sect.

Bubai, still smiling stupidly, scratched his dirty hair, "It's not so bad. At least we get a roof over our heads."

“Haha…” Old Liu grinned, “Good lad! I like honest fellas like you. Stick close to me, and I might be able to help you out here and there."

Bubai, still wearing his innocent grin, nodded appreciatively. "Sure thing, Old Liu."

"Smart lad. Just remember, in this world, it's better to make friends than enemies." Old Liu chuckled, patting Bubai on the shoulder. “Help me fetch some water. My place needs some cleaning.”

Old Liu gave Bubai a “you understand” look before pretentiously walking away.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the dilapidated huts.

Bubai wearily shut the door to his hut. Turning around, he was greeted by the sight of his unclean hut, dimly lit by the light filtering through the hut's cracks.

Plopping himself down on his makeshift hay bed, he couldn't help but feel the weight of his situation.

The mortal world was unforgiving, and even the simple act of choosing a hut became a subtle display of power dynamics.

“Treating me like a pushover…” Bubai’s dark eyes glinted dangerously before he suppressed it, “Just bear with it. I’ve managed to deal with it for so many years in the sect… and this is the best method to reduce my suspicion in the future.”

Thinking about his scheme, Bubai grinned. He then closed his eyes, this time, not delving into the mysterious space.

Instead, through his mysterious connection with the seed in the mysterious space, Bubai directly transferred his senses to another small, cubic white space!

Inside, Bubai noticed his set of clean handymen disciple clothes folded neatly, laying in a corner of the space.

It wasn’t a game-like inventory, but it was clear what this was!

He initially thought his golden finger only provided him a hidden space for storing Qi, but after spending some time exploring, he discovered this smaller inner space – unknowingly opened up within the seed itself during its birth.

Unlike the external space that could only store Qi, this place can store physical items from the real world!

Now, abilities like these were what a true golden finger should entail!

“So, the inner space is basically a storage space, and the outer space is… my spiritual sea?”

Unfortunately, there was no way for Bubai to confirm this.

Based on the cultivation novels he read in his past life, Bubai speculated he won’t be able to learn about the matters regarding the spiritual sea unless he at least reaches… probably the Nascent Soul stage.

Of course, being someone who didn’t even manage to enter Qi refining level one back in the sect, he had no authority to touch on any of these topics.

He only knew that his external space was akin to his dantian and his inner space was more like the spatial storage pouches that many of the Foundation Establishment disciples had, which were rumored to be a couple of cubic meters in size.

However, he estimated his space’s dimensions to be around one meter or less, enough to fit smaller objects and clothes.

As for how to grow both of these spaces… who knows.

“A step at a time, don’t bite off more than I can chew. Once I grow strong enough, everything will gradually become clear.”

With a thought, Bubai reactivated the Qi gathering formation and watched strands of Qi being sucked into the mysterious space once more, converting into green wisps of Qi by the seed.

Outside, the night settled over the desolate farmland, and the moon cast a pale glow on the makeshift huts. The wind rustled through the dry leaves, carrying with it a sense of loneliness, resignation, and undercurrents.

Time passed, and the night deepened. Bubai, who was silently cultivating in silence, was suddenly disturbed by the angry growl coming from next door.

Opening his eyes in the dark, Bubai's gaze locked onto the wooden planks patching the hole in the wall, a dim, faint light spilling through the gaps into his hut.

He heard the suppressed cries of the lady next door.

The familiar voice of Manager Qin interrupted her sobs, “Don’t think you can escape just by not cleaning yourself. There are many ways to have fun, today, let’s start with this.”

A disturbing sound echoed from the neighboring room.

It was a familiar sound – one Bubai recalled hearing in many of the cultural materials he studied in his past life.

“If you dare to bite… Kakaka, see how I clean you up.”

Hearing these words, Bubai closed his eyes, sneering inwardly, “Tsk, it has only been the first day. He can’t even wait. Truly, a shame to us, cultivators.”

In this situation, a proper protagonist would jump out to beat the old man eating tender grass, serving justice and winning over the beauty, but Bubai didn’t make any moves to offer help.

It wasn’t because Bubai didn’t want a beauty. How could he not? It was a fantasy for most transmigrators.

It was just because Bubai was being realistic.

Being only at Qi-refining level two, he was not going to make an enemy out of a Qi-refining level seven cultivator. Even if he doesn’t consider the fact that Manager Qin is his employer for the coming months and perhaps years, Bubai still had to recognize the cold reality: he could not beat the man.

Leapfrog and cross-rank killing isn’t a normality. This was the cruelty and true reality of the cultivation world.

Despite the disturbing distraction, Bubai treated it as training for his mental resistance, doing his best to focus on his cultivation.

It was unknown how long later, but the groan of Manager Qin was heard, “Comfortable! I didn’t see it wrong… Kakaka! You did good to hide yourself until this age, ripe for my picking! My dear WeiWei, remember to wash up tomorrow. I don’t want to wait too long or you will understand the consequences.”

The creak of the door was heard. Soon the light and footsteps faded away, leaving the sobbing voice of a budding evil in the night, akin to a weeping female ghost.

“The journey to greatness often began with the courage to face the darkest nights.” Fang Bubai let out a soft sigh, causing the crying to pause slightly before continuing, a bit more suppressed.

Closing his eyes, Bubai firmed his own will, now more resolute than ever.

Cultivate. Only when he is strong enough can he hold his own fate in his own hands.