Chapter 22: I Refuse to Be Human Anymore!

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In the early morning, Yuan Zhu, having slept soundly until broad daylight, opened his eyes in bed, experiencing an unprecedented feeling of refreshment. The quality of his sleep was explosively good, leaving him full of energy and vitality. He couldn’t help but marvel, “Truly the vigor of a young body!”

“What time is it now?”

The little spirit synchronized promptly: “9:30 a.m., Monday. Your younger brother has already gone to school.”

Suddenly, Yuan Zhu had a question: “As my steward, why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

The little spirit countered, “Why get up early on a full stomach? As part of your soul, I have the right to enjoy sleeping in as well. Waking up fully rested after a good sleep feels wonderful.”

Convinced, Yuan Zhu nodded in agreement but still felt something was amiss.

“Wait, no! It’s Monday. I have to go to the steam factory for work. Why didn’t you remind me?”

The worker’s spirit deeply ingrained in his bones finally made him realize the inconsistency. The blood of a competitive overachiever flowing through his body was urging him to create value!

The little spirit retorted, “Calm down. Don’t be driven by the impulse to work yourself to exhaustion. Think rationally. After inheriting the Grand Wilderness Immortal Scripture, do you still want to live the life of a workaholic to the point of death?”

Yuan Zhu carefully considered his situation and shook his head: “My predecessor was also a man of ambition. He plunged into fierce competition at the factory not just for the 1.5 times pay. Earning more was just a small part. His real goal was to understand the factory’s operations from every angle—the production technology, the steam engine assembly line’s operation and maintenance, workshop management and scheduling, even taking over the accounts without compensation, all to uncover the sales channels and supply routes…”

Flipping through the memories, a bright idea struck him: “I was actually so ambitious, planning to replace the boss. After understanding everything, I intended to hire someone to take out the old factory manager, push the factory to the brink of collapse, then heroically save it, gradually eroding the shares until I owned the entire factory and became the big boss! Truly ambitious and visionary.”

Having inherited his predecessor’s fragmented memories and body, Yuan Zhu now admired the predecessor’s dreams and actions more deeply, gaining a profound understanding of his own overachieving tendencies.

So, I am not a labor scab, but rather a nascent capitalist in the making—blending in with the workers to quietly accumulate strength, waiting for a monstrous transformation to break free.

Although from Yuan Zhu’s current perspective, acquiring an outdated steam factory (a lighting factory) held little financial promise, for a grassroots native like him, daring to dream such grand ambitions and actually taking action to overcome many obstacles was truly admirable.

The little spirit also browsed the predecessor’s memories and sighed, “The downside was limited vision. Even if he painstakingly acquired this obsolete factory, he wouldn’t become a top-tier figure, at best living a moderately wealthy life burdened by enormous product sales pressure. But given his character, after achieving this, he would surely continue the rat race, expanding capital through real business warfare until the day of backlash arrives.”

Yuan Zhu wholeheartedly agreed. Even if he hadn’t been caught up in the sacrificial incident, with his predecessor’s ambition and reckless streak, he probably wouldn’t have survived past thirty.

The little spirit asked, “So do you still plan to go to the factory today?”

Yuan Zhu pondered seriously, then shook his head: “No. The lighting factory job is just too exhausting and grueling. I don’t want to be a small-time factory manager, trapping my life forever in selling lamps. But I must reclaim the half-month’s wages. Fortunately, my predecessor prepared well, secretly gathering evidence of the factory’s tax evasion. Originally planning a backstab, now I can demand my wages legally.”

…

Getting up, washing up, and changing into his own clothes—old-fashioned style and average fabric, but well-fitting, comfortable, and pleasing to the eye.

Admiring himself in the mirror, looking into those garnet-colored eyes, Yuan Zhu gave himself an 8 out of 10. The remaining 2 points were reserved for future development.

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After finishing the breakfast his younger brother left, he pulled out a medical card from under his pillow and decided to visit the hospital first. He wanted to experience what the “Holy Light Exorcism Department” of this world’s “righteous light” was really like.

If you’re ill, exorcise demons; if not, strengthen your body.

Pocketing his wallet, Yuan Zhu closed the door and headed toward the nearest bus station. Although Running was considered a tier 2.5 city, its transportation infrastructure often relied on leftovers from Taixi, eliciting endless sighs.

As a global megacity, Taixi annually phases out so many vehicles that Running has an abundant supply of secondhand transport. Not only is public transit widespread, but there are also five subway lines—all transformed from old underground mining tunnels, a built-in advantage.

The price paid is a nightmarishly complex and dangerous underground ecosystem. Yuan Zhu’s first major mission after joining the Fire Fang was to don a gas mask and poison the subway tunnels, driving out the rampant goblins, big-horned rats, crocodiles, and other dangerous creatures with toxic smoke.

Every time locals waited for the subway, the arriving train’s front was densely splattered with fresh, brutal collision bloodstains.

Spending five cents on a ticket, Yuan Zhu found an empty seat and stared out the window. Black smoke billowed from factory chimneys, gradually blending into the gray-white haze above the city.

His thoughts drifted along with the smoke.

He no longer intended to work at the steam factory. The job was exhausting and time-consuming, and the meager pay was hardly motivating.

As for the ambition to usurp the factory manager’s position and become the big boss, Yuan Zhu no longer cared. With the Grand Wilderness Immortal Scripture empowering him, he had already surpassed many natives at the start. Becoming a transcendent being, doing as he pleased rather than being constrained—that was his new dream.

His immediate task was to familiarize himself with his powers, understand the system of the Spiritual Records, and find a way to integrate with them so their styles aligned.

On the other hand, the Fire Fang’s scavenger work was something he could continue. This company had special channels, connecting not only with official lawful organizations and the righteous camp but also with illegal transcendent groups and underground circles of demons and outsiders.

It was a path to contact and even master transcendent knowledge.

Because of his involvement in the sacrificial incident, the Security Bureau had taken him for investigation. Returning to Fire Fang could mean being assigned to secret tasks he hadn’t encountered before.

Thus, this job needed to be preserved, even considered for regular employment.

Lastly, he had a part-time gig in underground black boxing.

Yuan Zhu couldn’t help but admire how driven his predecessor was—so young yet juggling multiple jobs, paying for his brother’s tuition, and even maintaining a five-thousand-yuan fixed deposit at Taixi Bank.

Five thousand yuan! That was savings an ordinary family would struggle to accumulate in five years without spending a penny. Yuan Zhu himself had barely scraped together one thousand from scavenging at sacrificial sites. That scoundrel was truly overambitious!

Of those five thousand, three thousand came from underground boxing matches.

Yuan Zhu boxed not only for the entry fees but also deliberately to hone his fighting skills.

He debuted underground at seventeen and had been fighting for fourteen months, with over fifty matches logged: 17 wins, 22 draws, 13 losses. In the old city’s underground boxing scene, he was somewhat well-known, recognized for his steady style and mastery of social finesse.

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To make money, Yuan Zhu frequently competed to increase exposure, though he had few hardcore fans. Half a year ago, by maintaining a constant presence, he evolved into a “combat power benchmark,” used to elevate the status of newcomers or strong fighters.

His predecessor’s boxing style was solid and steady, never aggressive. He avoided risky knockouts, focusing on defense and winning by points. Each match was dragged to the final round to hone skills and gain experience.

This turtle-like approach rarely excited the crowd, but he was undeniably one of the most technically disciplined and competent fighters in the old city.

Gradually, he became a measuring tool and gatekeeper for other boxers’ strength. No one liked watching him fight, but everyone enjoyed watching others fight him, as it revealed their true level.

Those who defeated him became symbols of strength, drawing bigger audiences and higher betting stakes, much to the boss’s delight. Those who lost to him were labeled weaklings, while those who drew were potential talents worth nurturing.

Using this “steady gatekeeper” persona, Yuan Zhu privately accepted fixed fight orders, staging thrilling rigged fights that propelled opponents onto the strong player list or tough draws that quickly elevated newcomers as promising prospects.

In underground black boxing, fairness was a myth. Leveraging his “combat power benchmark” image, he easily earned money without serious injury and lived comfortably. He even began part-time coaching, scripting “fixed fight” plans for opponents.

Reviewing these memories, Yuan Zhu couldn’t help but marvel at how shamelessly his predecessor chased money. So young, he devised a strategy of manipulating popularity, crafting expensive “promotion packages” for newcomers, using himself as a foil to highlight others’ strength, without an ounce of martial dignity.

The underground boxing gym owner also admired Yuan Zhu’s shamelessness and sought to recruit him for larger, more systematic fixed fight arrangements, even nudging toward drama-heavy, WWE-style spectacles.

After evolving for over a year, Yuan Zhu had gradually shed his turtle label. His recent fixed fights were particularly “intense,” skillfully stirring the audience’s emotions.

When it came to making money, Yuan Zhu had a certain talent.

Looking back, that black boxing boss had a discerning eye—a man of ideas, already handling some marginalized official competitions.

Unfortunately, Yuan Zhu had no intention of becoming a “performative rigged fight boxer.” His greater dream remained to seize the steam factory; underground boxing was merely a shady side hustle.

“Hard to watch!”

After reading through his predecessor’s years of struggle—or rather, shameless money-making—Yuan Zhu felt the entire Earth-life career was utterly wasted. No wonder the little spirit believed that without absorbing the predecessor’s soul essence and shifting his character, survival in the Spiritual Records system would be impossible.

Such a shamelessly ambitious youth, still stuck at the bottom. If he wanted to succeed in this era of rigid class structures and backwardness, he couldn’t stay decent—he had to become even more ruthless!

Unconsciously, the steam bus had entered the city center. The second municipal hospital was still two stops away on foot. So he decisively got off and merged into the bustling crowd...