Honghuang: A Menial Kitchen Hand, I Max Out My Skill Points and Then Slay

At three in the morning, the sky was just beginning to turn a bluish gray, like the pale belly of a fish.

In the kitchen behind the Chan Sect, Jiang Mo puffed out clouds of white breath as he swung his axe again and again.

“Crack! Crack!”

The sound of splitting firewood was far too loud in the quiet of early morning.

He wore coarse hemp clothes speckled with wood chips and mud. The backs of his hands were red from the cold, but he didn’t dare stop.

Why? Because his mother came from a lowly background.

In the Chan Sect, he was nothing but a low-ranking servant.

Washing vegetables, stoking the fire, making soup...

Jiang Mo spun around the stove like a little top, never stopping.

Steam from the kitchen made it hard to keep his eyes open, while the pungent smell of medicinal herbs rushed up his nose.

He knew full well that today’s medicinal meal was meant to replenish the spiritual energy of those so-called “noble” Chan Sect Disciples.

“Hmph! Bunch of gluttons. They sure enjoy their food.”

Jiang Mo cursed them under his breath, but didn’t dare slow his hands.

He knew that if he did, those people would descend on him like a pack of wolves and tear him to pieces.

“Jiang Mo! You useless thing! Why are you so slow? Are you trying to starve us to death?!”