The afternoon sun hung low by the time the spiritual meal settled in their stomachs.

Once Xu Changshou's spiritual Qi had stabilized, Yang Bailao led him toward the dao-field of Li Daotu.

"Disciple Yang Bailao pays his respects to Uncle-Master Li."

"Disciple Xu Changshou pays his respects to Uncle-Master Li."

"What business brings you here?" Li Daotu asked, his brows knitting together in a slight frown.

Yang Bailao bowed low, his voice brimming with feigned deference. "Uncle-Master Li, Junior Brother Xu has mastered the art of the brush. I have brought him to receive his mandate."

Li Daotu's fingers moved in a swift, calculated rhythm as he counted the days. "Four months... Hmph. Acceptable."

"Xu Changshou."

"Your disciple is here."

"From this day forth, you are tasked with the creation of Windwalk Talismans. Your daily quota is five. The first and fifteenth of each month shall be your days of rest."

Li Daotu's voice was cold, devoid of any warmth.

"You are to submit one hundred and forty Windwalk Talismans every month. Your stipend shall be one Spirit Stone. Should you fail to meet this quota, the penalty shall be double your monthly salary."

Hiss-

A sharp intake of breath hissed through Xu Changshou's teeth.

He had expected the Sect to be demanding, but this was outright predatory.

A double penalty meant that if he fell short, he wouldn't just lose his pay-he would owe the Sect two Spirit Stones.

It was no wonder Yang Bailao and the other miscellaneous disciples worked themselves to the bone.

On Green Ink Peak, they weren't just disciples; they were beasts of burden.

If they didn't work with desperate, life-risking fervor, they simply wouldn't survive.

"Furthermore, I bestow these two bottles of Qi Replenishing Pills upon you. Do not squander them," Li Daotu said with a flick of his sleeve.

Two jade bottles whistled through the air, coming to rest in Xu Changshou's hands.

"The disciple thanks Uncle-Master Li for his benevolence."

Xu Changshou accepted the gift with a mask of profound gratitude.

Qi Replenishing Pills were precious commodities for those in the Qi Condensation realm, capable of restoring one's entire reservoir of spiritual Qi in a single breath.

A bottle held ten pills and cost roughly thirty broken Spirit Stones-far cheaper than the Qi Gathering Pills used for actual cultivation.

On Green Ink Peak, these were the "hard currency" of the labor force.

Any disciple engaged in the high-output toil of talisman drawing lived and died by these pills.

Li Daotu likely handed them over because Xu Changshou was a novice. He feared the boy lacked the capital to buy his own supplies, which would inevitably lead to a shortfall in the Sect's production.

Xu Changshou's mind raced, performing a cold, pragmatic calculation.

If he didn't possess the Bloodline Jade Talisman, he would be forced to use at least one pill a day just to maintain his quota of five talismans.

At thirty pills a month, he would spend ninety broken Spirit Stones on "maintenance."

Those ninety shards were essentially a sunk cost-grist for the Sect's mill.

One Spirit Stone was worth a hundred shards. After expenses, his "salary" would net him a measly ten broken Spirit Stones.

What could ten shards buy? Barely a single Qi Gathering Pill for his own advancement.

A cold chill crept down his spine.

Without his hidden advantage, the path of cultivation would be a hundred times more arduous-a slow crawl through a desert of exploitation.

It was almost miraculous that men like Yang Bailao hadn't collapsed under the weight of it all.

"Be gone," Li Daotu dismissed them.

"Farewell, Uncle-Master Li."

The two bowed in unison and retreated from the dao-field with measured, respectful steps.

Once they were clear, Xu Changshou exhaled. "Senior Brother Yang, it was just as you predicted. Uncle-Master assigned me the Windwalk Talismans."

Yang Bailao chuckled, though there was little mirth in it. "Of course. Green Ink Peak lacks disciples with wind-attributed roots. Those talismans are always in high demand and short supply."

He glanced at Xu Changshou. "But tell me, Junior Brother... can your constitution truly handle five a day?"

Xu Changshou thumped his chest, projecting an air of youthful confidence. "Do not worry, Senior Brother. I will manage."

Yang Bailao's expression turned solemn. "Remember this: the first month is the crucible. Whatever happens, you must hit that quota. If you don't, the consequences will be... unpleasant."

"I understand."

Xu Changshou nodded, then pivoted. "Senior Brother, I've exhausted my supply of Yellow Hemp Paper. Could you guide me to the paper stores? I'm still unfamiliar with the layout."

"A simple matter. I'm running low myself. Follow me."

As they navigated the winding mountain paths, Xu Changshou asked in a low voice, "Senior Brother, since this is my first mandate... what happens if I waste too much paper? Is there a limit?"

Yang Bailao laughed heartily. "Rest easy. The Sect doesn't keep a strict ledger on Yellow Hemp Paper. Even if you burned through a thousand sheets in a month, no one would bat an eye. It's practically worthless to them."

"That is good to hear."

Xu Changshou nodded, his inner thoughts already churning.

If the paper was effectively free and unmonitored, he could produce a massive surplus of talismans for his own private profit without raising any alarms.

Soon, they arrived at a sprawling hall. Xu Changshou peered inside; the three massive chambers were overflowing with stacks of Yellow Hemp Paper, reaching toward the rafters.

"Senior Brother Zhong! Are you within?" Yang Bailao called out.

The hall was silent for a moment before a ragged, rattling cough echoed from the adjacent room.

"He's in the talisman chamber. Come."

They entered the side room to find an old man hunched over a desk. His hair and beard were a tangled mess of silver, and his robes were stained and disheveled.

This seemed to be a grim tradition of Green Ink Peak. The disciples here were too exhausted by their quotas to care for the vanity of appearances.

"Senior Brother Zhong, we've come for our rations," Yang Bailao said respectfully.

The old man didn't look up from his brush. "The paper is next door. Take what you need, then report back to me for the record."

"Understood!"

Yang Bailao's eyes gleamed. He pulled Xu Changshou back into the storage hall.

With a swift wave of his hand, Yang Bailao swept three or four thousand sheets of paper into his Storage Bag. Then, he picked up a modest stack of a thousand sheets to carry openly in his arms.

"Senior Brother Yang, you're..."

Xu Changshou watched the blatant "skimming" with feigned surprise.

Yang Bailao smirked. "When Senior Brother Zhong is busy, he lets us self-report. Normally, he'd hand out a thousand and record a thousand. If we take it ourselves, we can secure a 'buffer,' but we still only report the standard thousand."

"I see!"

Xu Changshou didn't need further instruction. He followed suit, stashing several thousand extra sheets into his own space before grabbing a visible stack.

They returned to the side room just as the old man was finishing a stroke.

They waited in silence. The old man was drawing an earth-attributed script-likely an Earth Shield Talisman.

As the ink dried, the elder finally turned his gaze toward them. "A new face? You must be the fledgling who joined the peak this year."

"This Junior Brother greets the Senior," Xu Changshou said, cupping his hands.

Yang Bailao stepped forward. "Senior Brother Zhong, allow me. This is Xu Changshou. Junior Brother Xu, this is Senior Brother Zhong Xiuping."

"Greetings, Senior Brother Zhong."

Zhong Xiuping gave a tired nod and pulled out a brush to scratch a few notes into the ledger. It was a perfunctory gesture, done with the soul-crushing boredom of a man who had seen too many decades of the same routine.

"By the way, Senior Brother Zhong," Yang Bailao said, his tone softening. "I heard your time is nearly up. When do you depart? Junior Brother Xu and I would like to attend your Retirement Ceremony."

A genuine, albeit faint, smile touched Zhong Xiuping's lips. "Soon. Only three months remain."

"So soon? Then I must congratulate you, Senior Brother, on finally escaping this sea of suffering."

There was a palpable envy in Yang Bailao's voice. He sighed, the weight of years pressing down on his shoulders.

"I still remember learning my first brushstrokes from you when I arrived at Green Ink Peak. Forty years have vanished in the blink of an eye. You are finally returning to the secular world to find peace... while I must endure another fifty years of this toil."