At seven o’clock that morning, the morning fog over Taichu Sanctuary Valley began to disperse under the warm sun.
Outside the human resources administration hall, a long, orderly queue of job applicants snaked across the cobblestone plaza.
Among the local farmers, herbal apprentices, and retired carpenters stood a very strange collection of figures.
Dozens of unorthodox elders and disgraced rogue cultivators from the surrounding mountains were lurking in the line.
Mount Qingcheng’s disgraced Third Elder He was wearing dark tinted sunglasses and an oversized conical straw hat, trying to look like a cabbage vendor.
A notorious ghost-cultivator from the Gloom-River Sect wore a white flour-dusted baker’s apron, nervously clutching a baguette as if it were a talisman.
At the very front of this nervous group stood Grand Demonic Elder Blood-Crow.
The terrifying terror of the Black-Mist Mountains had spent the entire night preparing for his corporate transformation.
