“See you again, Kannout!”
After several days of arduous trekking through the wilderness, Xing Chen and Theresa arrived in the Tara region of Victoria.
Currently, they were on the outskirts of a small town. Due to Tara's overall underdeveloped state, this unnamed town had not yet been upgraded to a mobile land block.
“Theresa, how long will the money Kannout gave us last?”
“Hmm… let me see… If we’re careful with it, it should last half a month. Honestly, Xing Chen, I think we got a bad deal.”
“A bad deal is a bad deal, I don’t think anyone likes making friends with people who profit from start to finish.”
Speaking of Tara, Xing Chen undoubtedly wanted to connect with the Deepsea organization.
However, at this time, Deepsea was still a clandestine secret organization. Besides forcing their way into Nasarsha, some means were needed to meet them.
Xing Chen had already figured out a plan.
“Cough! This smell… Theresa, don’t you feel uncomfortable?”
“It’s alright, better than Kazdel when I was little, at least I won’t encounter any witchcraft constructs while walking.”
Theresa didn't mind sleeping outdoors, because when she was a child, with equally poor material conditions, the wilderness might have even been safer.
Xing Chen truly couldn't stand it; no matter how bad the environment, he wanted to stay somewhere with people.
So, the two entered the slum on the edge of the town.
Many people here exchanged their health for money, then inevitably contracted Oripathy, and quietly died in their dilapidated shacks.
Xing Chen found a two-story tin house. The owner had long since disappeared, perhaps having turned into the Originium dust inside the house.
However, it was precisely because of the Originium dust that this seemingly decent house had not been occupied by other vagrants.
Theresa used Originium Arts to punch a hole in both the tin door and the doorframe, then wove threads, creating a simple lock.
“I’ll go to the town’s factory later to see if I can find work. You just stay in the house.”
“No, I want to work too. My weaving skills are very good, and look, I can even control threads like this.”
Theresa extended a hand. Xing Chen didn't see anything unusual, and just as he was about to reach out to touch it, he suddenly found many blood-red threads on his own hand.
“This is a skill I mastered after returning from your laboratory. I can create very fine threads, so thin that even a slight airflow can cut through many things.”
“Wait a minute, are you saying Originium Arts can be upgraded?”
“It seems so for now,” Theresa scratched her head, then smiled and said, “In that case, even if I don’t do weaving, I can do jobs like felling trees or cutting steel.”
“Alright then,” Xing Chen didn’t object to Theresa working; two people earning money was always easier than one, “but I’ll still give you a heads-up: Victorians might not hire a Sarkaz.”
“Not even for low wages?”
“It might be possible when your brother returns the capital.”
...“Those over thirty-five, leave. Those under thirty-five, stay.”
A pot-bellied Feline, dressed in a neat suit, stood on a high platform outside the factory building, announcing the hiring rules to the dusty workers below through a loudspeaker.
Xing Chen had previously been sold into a sweatshop by a unscrupulous teacher to operate machine tools and screw bolts, so he considered himself to have some skills. Therefore, he didn't choose a true sweatshop assembly line, but rather a local building materials factory.
“I ask you, which is greater, 0.19 or 0.2?” the hiring supervisor asked.
“You haven’t told me the units, how can I judge?” Xing Chen spoke very impolitely; this was a habit he developed in the sweatshop. An average of ten yuan an hour, even with four hours of overtime pay, what respect could he expect?
The other workers around him seemed to be intimidated as well; long periods of numb, repetitive labor had drained many of them of the energy to think.
“You’re hired, go on in.” The hiring staff quickly reacted. Although Xing Chen had a bad attitude, his professional knowledge was good, so he immediately decided to put him to work.
Xing Chen nodded. Soon, the hiring process was over. He lined up with the other workers and was led into the factory building.
“What can you do?” the workshop supervisor asked.
“Welding, quality inspection, operating machine tools, all are fine.”
Thus, Xing Chen was assigned to the position of machine tool operator.
Terra’s machine tools, apart from their power source being Originium, seemed to differ little from human machine tools in other aspects.
Anyway, he didn't need to understand the Originium circuits inside; he just needed to know how to press buttons, load and unload materials, and change molds. Other problems were handled by specialized technicians.
“Hey, brother, you really had guts to talk back to that Victorian just now!” A female Feline actively approached Xing Chen to greet him. “I’m the operator for those eight machines next door. If you don’t understand anything, you can ask me.”
Xing Chen keenly detected from her language that she was likely a native, oppressed Tara person.
“All Victorians are like this. They don’t dare to utter a sound when their capital is occupied by Sarkaz, but they act all high and mighty when bullying us Tara people.”
“Exactly, exactly,” Xing Chen’s dislike for Victoria greatly pleased the older woman. She patted Xing Chen’s shoulder and said, “I’ve been fed up with these bastards for a long time. I won’t say more for now, we’ll buy you a drink after work.”
Bidding farewell to the overly friendly older woman, Xing Chen immediately threw himself into work.
Although he had changed majors in graduate school, he hadn’t forgotten the knowledge and skills he learned as an undergraduate, and quickly got the hang of it.
Working from six in the evening until six the next morning, the all-night shift left him feeling exhausted.
The pay wasn't much, but it was paid daily without delay. Xing Chen guessed that the factory owner did this because a single day's unpaid wages would mean hunger for the locals.
Xing Chen didn't like to drink alcohol, even the high-end stuff from Brother Wang. But in order to build good relationships with the locals, he had to gulp down several large glasses of a liquid that seemed to be twisted alcohol mixed with water, earning him the title of “King of Wine.”
“Theresa, I’m back.”
“You didn’t come back all night, I was so worried.” Theresa immediately ran to Xing Chen’s side, but couldn’t stop herself and leaned directly against him. “Ah, I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s fine,” the girl’s blushing face was the best gift. Xing Chen patted her head, which made Theresa immediately spring away from him. “Did you find a job?”
“No…” Theresa said awkwardly, “As soon as they heard I was Sarkaz, they told me to stay far away, saying I would spread Oripathy—but the other textile workers are all Infected too.”
Hearing her say that, Xing Chen nodded, “I’ve found a job, and we’ll be staying here for a while.”
“By the way, you can also ponder a question: even if Babel truly solves Oripathy, will this land be as beautiful as you imagine?”