Perhaps because there have been too many cultivators taking on missions these past few days, all the major sects have sent an extra disciple to receive them.
Two monks sat in front of the large counter.
The two men, one leaning on the counter and the other slumped in a chair, appeared quite languid.
You could tell from their expressions that they were very dissatisfied with this job.
When Wu Er entered the hall, the two arrogant men didn't even notice him and were still slacking off.
Not only did they remain lazy, they also started chatting.
"This job is so annoying. I have to deal with those rogue cultivators all day long. It's really a pain in the ass."
"Stop complaining. If it weren't for those rogue cultivators going to their deaths, we would be on the battlefield."
"Ha, that makes sense. They rushed into battle for such a small gain, but we treated them as trash to be sent to their deaths. Almost none of our sect's disciples died; it was the rogue cultivators who died!"
After saying these words, the two cultivators behind the counter burst into laughter, probably mocking the foolishness of those rogue cultivators.
Wu Er was not angry after hearing their words.
With more experience, some things become less surprising.
Inequality in resource status leads to inequality in treatment, which is quite normal.
To put it simply, independent cultivators are like poor people, while the major sects are like landlords.
All kinds of spiritual herb fields and spirit stone mines are controlled by major sects. If independent cultivators want to obtain resources, they can only work for the major sects.
This led to exploitation, and severe exploitation at that.
Is it fair that you risk your life for someone else's prosperity?
What's even more infuriating is that while the rogue cultivators were fighting desperately, the people behind them were still mocking their foolishness.
If we could see it, we would know that the prosperity behind this place was built on the lives of countless people.
But are the things that the dead guarded really worth guarding?
In reality, these people are nothing more than pawns in the power struggles between major forces.
Human life is nothing more than a consumable commodity...
"Ahem." Wu Er coughed lightly. "Any other good jobs? I want to take one."
Seeing that they were lazy and unwelcoming to guests, and that they were saying such things, Wu Er interrupted their conversation.
"Tsk... Let's go, it's been a few days since we had a mission."
Upon hearing the sound, one of the disciples at the counter glanced at Wu Er and then waved his hand impatiently.
Perhaps Wu Er's words had disturbed their conversation, so their attitude was very bad and their tone was full of dissatisfaction.
“I see there are still so many tasks on this bulletin board.”
Wu Er walked a few steps into the hall, then pointed to the notice board and said.
The two junior disciples frowned, then stood up together.
One of them even said, "If we say no, then no."
The other person pointed at Wu Er and said in a very unfriendly tone, "Rogue cultivator, are you here to cause trouble?"
Clearly, Wu Er's actions greatly displeased them, hence the hostile tone in their words.
The person who spoke last emphasized the word "rogue cultivator," clearly trying to intimidate others by relying on their status.
Wu Er has quite a few tricks up his sleeve when it comes to dealing with trashy disciples from big sects.
Wu Er calmly took out his guest token, threw it on the counter, and then released some pressure.
"Any good jobs? I'd like to take one, anything that involves sweating is fine, but preferably no bleeding."
Upon seeing the token, one feels a sense of oppression.
The two disciples became a little more polite, but not overly so.
"Oh...Guest, they're all on the bulletin board. Just tell me which one you like."
Wu Er glanced at them and couldn't help but sigh.
He bullies rogue cultivators by taking advantage of his status, yet he is protected by them from behind. I really don't know what to say.
Upon reaching the bulletin board, Wu Er glanced at it briefly; most of the notices were for conscription.
To put it nicely, they went to the front lines to fight the enemy and protect humanity.
To put it bluntly, it's like being sent to the front lines as cannon fodder for transgender people.
Wu Er would not accept such a mission; he didn't want to take on any mission that involved bloodshed or anything that might involve bloodshed.
So I searched on the bulletin board for a long time and finally found a job that was alright.
It's an escort mission, to deliver supplies to the front lines.
Sure enough, even bloodless missions were inextricably linked to this war.
Since he couldn't find any other missions, Wu Er had no choice but to accept this one.
After accepting the mission and gathering some information, Wu Er got up and went to this place.
The escort is scheduled to begin tomorrow, but it's only just gotten dark, so all the soldiers will have to wait another night.
Because he had something on his mind, and knew that he was excluded by the Heavenly Dao, even if he cultivated, he wouldn't make much progress in his cultivation.
Bored, Wu Erbai started strolling around the streets.
Fortunately, this cultivator city is still bustling, so even going shopping here won't be boring.
Everywhere was brightly lit and bustling. Because it was a city of cultivators, it was never dark at night. The brilliance of various magical treasures mingled together, making it exceptionally dazzling.
Passing by a place frequented by monks for their pleasure, one can still hear singing coming from inside.
It's quite a coincidence that this romantic place was built on the banks of a small river in the city.
Wu Er glanced at the river.
A bright moon was reflected on the river, and wisps of water vapor were rising from it, perhaps because it was a bit chilly.
Thus, Wu Er came up with a poem.
"Smoke shrouds the cold water, moonlight veils the sand; moored on the Qinhuai River near a wine shop."
Standing before the stream, amidst this picturesque scene, Wu Er recited this poem.
However, he only recited the first two lines of the poem, and did not recite the last two lines.
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