Taibai Jinxing had lived for 3,700 years, and never in his wildest dreams did he expect that even immortals would have to clock in for work.
An LED screen went up at the Southern Heavenly Gate, the Peach Garden rolled out KPIs, and the Underworld brought in AI judges. A mortal e-commerce tycoon called “Teacher Ma” rode an electric scooter into the Hall of Miraculous Mists, put up a PowerPoint, and announced plans for a “digital transformation of the Three Realms.”
Taibai was abruptly demoted to project manager, with a team made up entirely of misfits: the Earth God, driven to tears by writing daily reports; the Calamity Star, a specialist in bad luck; a fairy programmer who’d been unemployed for three years; and Sun Wukong, tricked into joining for the price of three peaches, as the “gofer.”
On the first day the Celestial Court launched DingTalk, the servers crashed.
The Matchmaker’s database was leaked, pairing elementary school students with elderly women.
When the Book of Life and Death went digital, the King of Hell accidentally changed everyone’s remaining lifespan to a negative number with one click.
Even worse, Teacher Ma’s code concealed a backdoor to the Demon Realm.
Taibai was forced back into his old job as a mediator. This time, though, he wasn’t settling fights between immortals. He was dealing with the mess created by efficiency versus the Way of Heaven, 996 work schedules versus carefree living, and PowerPoints versus a conscience.
When even the immortals are caught in a rat race, what’s the point of cultivating immortality?
An old hand of a manager stages a lie-flat comeback.
An absurd workplace comedy that’ll make immortals want to quit and office workers weep.
The Way that can be spoken is not the eternal Way. The rat race you can join is never-ending. Stop competing and cultivate immortality instead.
