Gao Song worked himself to death from overwork. When he woke up, he had become a low-ranking cultivation servant in another world.
He had thought he would get to fly on swords and live free, taking revenge on his enemies. Instead, he was horrified to discover that the cultivation world also worshipped the blessings of 996 work schedules.
He stayed up all night meditating, spent entire nights refining pills, and exterminated demons around the clock. His fellow disciples were suffering under the endless grind.
Until one day, Gao Song could take no more. He pulled out the labor laws from his previous life and slapped them down on the Immortal Venerable’s desk.
“Boss, I’m filing for overtime pay. Otherwise, I’ll see you at labor arbitration!”
The Immortal Venerable sneered. “A mere servant dares to negotiate terms?”
Gao Song silently opened his storage pouch and pulled out an object. The Immortal Venerable’s face turned deathly pale in an instant...
His consciousness felt like a piece of rusted iron sunk in the deep sea, pushed upward little by little by unseen currents. Gao Song suddenly opened his eyes and choked out a mouthful of spit that tasted of rust. His chest burned as if someone had just hauled him off an overloaded machine on the verge of exploding.
Instead of the familiar workstation piled with instant noodle cups and code documents, he saw a low, damp thatched roof. A few pitiful rays of moonlight seeped through its crumbling gaps, illuminating dust motes drifting through the air. Beneath him was a hard wooden board, covered with a thin layer of dry grass that smelled of mildew.
Fragments of memory flooded his mind in disarray, like data on a corrupted hard drive. Only a moment ago, he, Gao Song, a veteran coder at a major internet company, had been staring at a screen full of incomprehensible bugs. After his forty-eighth consecutive hour of overtime, his heart had suddenly seized, and everything had gone black. And then... here he was.
A strange memory surged into his mind like...
