The brothels of the Great Spirit are not just places for men and women to seek pleasure, but more so venues for various singing performances and theatrical plays.
Well-managed brothels can generate significant income solely from performances.
Zhang Rongfang himself has only regained consciousness for a short time and naturally doesn't have this skill.
This is income from the compositions his predecessor wrote.
He touched the hundred-wen banknote, which bore the complex manufacturer's name, anti-counterfeit marks, and the official denomination set by the Great Spirit Emperor: Lingyuan Circulating Currency.
Carefully storing away the banknote, Zhang Rongfang folded the letter and placed it into the lining pocket of his clothes.
The more he saved, the better life could be at Qinghe Palace.
Recently, the prices in the mountain have risen again, with coarse rice costing twenty wen per jin. These hundred wen... would be useless if solely used to improve his life.
But living in Qinghe Palace means food and accommodation are free, so perhaps these hundred wen could be used to buy meat and eggs to nourish himself and perhaps even gain some attributes.
By then, if he could find a way to obtain the status of a disciple who practices martial arts... he could openly test the effect of attribute-enhancing skills...
As he walked forward, Zhang Rongfang suddenly heard in the distance, from the right side outside the corridor by the field, some voices calling over.
"...When did they return? I thought only Li Yunchang was sent back." An anxious young man's voice said. He sounded just over twenty.
"Last night they arranged for others to be sent down the mountain, including Chen Dashan, Zhang Shitou... The mountain doesn't need that many servile disciples, so naturally, they were also sent back." Another female Daoist sighed.
"Having someone in the household register gives you exemption from many official taxes and military service, so even for menial labor, many are eager to send people up. As long as they send someone less crucial from home, they can enjoy many benefits; who wouldn't want that?" the female Daoist continued.
"Alas... how do you keep people?" asked the male Daoist.
"Either by offering money or having someone to look out for you...." the female Daoist sighed. "Once sent down the mountain, there's no returning home; we are also fourth-class people...."
Zhang Rongfang didn't listen further, but his heart was alarmed.
In Great Spirit, people are categorized into ten classes by profession: officials, officials' assistants, monks, Daoists, doctors, workers, artisans, prostitutes, scholars, and beggars.
Simultaneously, people are divided into four ethnic classes: Spirit People, Huxi people, Northern People, and Barbarians.
Qinghe Palace is located in the south, where most of the laboring disciples are actually Barbarians. Zhang Rongfang originally counted as a Northern Person, and after wandering with his sister to Pingyu Road, they also came to be considered Barbarians.
Pingyu Road here is equivalent in size to a large province from his past life.
He walked silently past the two Daoists, who didn't pay him any mind, still trying to figure out how to stay.
As he moved past, he could still vaguely hear their talking behind him.
Being sent down the mountain and removed from the Daoist register is a troublesome matter.
In Great Spirit, changing your profession is not something you can do as you please; you must apply with the authorities, or else you'll be considered an illegal worker with extremely low income.
Without official certification, no matter how skilled you are, you can only earn meager pay.
And as a fourth-class Barbarian, many industries are off-limits in Great Spirit. Once sent down the mountain, unable to reduce tax or avoid conscription for labor, a government conscription could lead to the destruction of a family.
Even if they manage to hang on, various tax burdens falling upon them make it hard for fourth-class Barbarians to even meet basic needs.
Staying on the mountain means free food and shelter, and many families can live without worry.
So no one wishes to leave the mountain, no matter how exhausting or difficult it is up there.
Zhang Rongfang had many thoughts racing through his mind. He, too, was a servile disciple, and Qinghe Palace had too many of them, prompting the start of clearing a portion out.
This also instilled a sense of crisis in him; others could return to farming after being cleared out, but he had no skills in farming.
Income from writing compositions was hit-or-miss; in over half a year, he struck it lucky once, earning a hundred wen.... To rely on this for a living was a pipe dream.
Moreover, those compositions were written by his predecessor; he couldn't write them, and compositions in Great Spirit were not modern versions; they followed strict rules. It wasn't just freeform singing in vernacular.
Suddenly he recalled his predecessor's sister, Zhang Rongyu, and what she once said.
In Great Spirit, being a fourth-class person, living with dignity... is really hard.
He circled around the main hall of Qinghe Palace and found his room in the disciples' quarters at the back.
Zhang Rongfang carefully placed the hundred-wen banknote together with the remaining saved money and carried it all close to his body.
The room had only a wardrobe, a bed, a wooden stool, and an oil lamp on the stool.
Zhang Rongfang sat by the bedhead, feeling somewhat lost.
Though he'd been here for ten days or so, he still felt a sense of unreality.
In his past life, he was a simple, ordinary office worker, earning thousands per month, unmarried, planning to save up for a mortgage on a house, but went to sleep one night.
With a blink of an eye, he found himself in the body of Zhang Rongfang, a servile Daoist at Qinghe Palace.
Fortunately, his real name was also Zhang Rongfang, so there wasn't an issue with accepting his new name.
But transitioning from a regular office worker to a Daoist in a monastery was a big leap.
Through observation, learning, and the integration of some of the previous memories left by his predecessor, he barely managed to settle down in Qinghe Palace without causing trouble.
Being a Daoist is not easy, especially in this era, in the Great Spirit's time.
Leaving aside everything else, even the daily chanting tasks and etiquettes when meeting people had fixed detailed rules.
There are rules for everything, which makes it quite cumbersome.
Though chanting has a leader, if unfamiliar with it, issues arise. Even for servile tasks, not knowing how to use certain tools and items becomes equally troublesome.
After barely adapting to the rhythm, now a clearance of some servile disciples for descent from the mountain suddenly arises.
Zhang Rongfang unconsciously rubbed the wood at the head of the bed, the rough and cold texture slightly calming his mind.
'No historical record mentions a Great Spirit dynasty... Seems like I've ended up in a different world.'
In his predecessor's memory, the Great Spirit was just an ordinary ancient dynasty, without cultivation, magic, or supernatural creatures, similar to ancient China's dynastic setting.
But the sole difference was the size of the Great Spirit's territory, incredibly vast.
Zhang Rongfang felt lost; he didn't know what he could do in this world, what he should do.
For the past ten days, he didn't have time to think about this question, but now that he finally had some free time, the question welled up again.
'If I can't go back, what do I want to do here? What can I do?'
He raised his hand, moving his ten fingers.
His eyes went from dazed to gradually becoming focused.
'Forget it, no matter what happens in the future, at least for now I need to make sure I'm living better.'
'Right now, I'm living day to day, the free meals I get every day aren't enough to save attribute points, nor to even meet my basic physical needs. I still have to do a lot of chores every day, with only a little rest time at night.'
The expression on Zhang Rongfang's face changed from wooden to slowly determined.
'First, set a small goal, get out of the menial disciple rank, eat well, and dress warmly. My current living situation is too unsafe.'
But with attribute abilities, he believed that he could carve out a path.
Regaining his senses, Zhang Rongfang stood up and checked the bills on him, ready to head out.
He still had to do today's chores.
With the money he previously saved, plus this hundred wen just received, he had a total of two taels of silver, which was two thousand wen, saved up by his predecessor over a long period of time.
As a Daoist, even if only a menial one, he occasionally received some small rewards from generous guests.
Zhang Rongfang's predecessor did well in this regard, and his honest and simple manner ensured decent earnings.
He originally planned to use the money to buy some good things during his rest time to nourish his body, and then convert it into attribute points.
But after hearing the conversation between those two just now, he planned to use it to give gifts to the Dojo record-keeping Daoist.
In this world, the hierarchy is extremely strict, and the limitations on the fourth-class barbarians are severe, leaving them to only manual labor jobs.
Zhang Rongfang understood clearly that if he wanted a more comfortable life, he could only advance in the Dojo record hierarchy.
There would be opportunities to earn more money in the future, but if this chance at a Dojo record passed, it might be very difficult to come by again.
Leaving the disciple dormitory, he headed straight to the laundry room, which was the place for washing clothes.
This month it was his turn in the rotation.
But before reaching the laundry room, he made a detour to the Dojo record management room.
Manager Zhang Chunsheng was not there, but after inquiring about his schedule, he learned that he would be there in the evening, putting Zhang Rongfang's mind at ease.
Zhang Chunsheng was notoriously greedy, so as long as the information was confirmed to be true, he might be able to give him a gift to secure a spot.
Unfortunately, the little money he had just saved up was going to be gone again....
Zhang Rongfang had just left the Dojo record management room and hadn't gone far.
Behind him, two sweeping Daoists, their eyes surreptitious, glanced at the bulge on his chest and stopped what they were doing.
The two exchanged glances, quietly following Zhang Rongfang with their brooms in hand.
The two were tall and muscular; sweeping was just a cover for watching who among the disciples came to offer gifts.
The news from within Qinghe Palace had reached their ears.
This was a decision passed down by the highest supervisor besides the Palace Master; no one could change it.
Once the news spread, those who had connections used them, those who prepared silver prepared it, and for those like them, who lacked money, they had to resort to less honorable methods.
They had checked which disciples in the palace had backgrounds and which did not.
Now, seeing Zhang Rongfang, they knew he wasn't among those with a background.
They closely followed Zhang Rongfang, the distance shortening with each step.
Soon, the three reached the alley between two large halls.
As they walked, one of them suddenly lunged at Zhang Rongfang's back.
Thud.
Zhang Rongfang stumbled forward from the impact.
He quickly steadied himself and turned to look behind him, only to be encircled by two Daoists, one in front and one behind him.
"You little thief, dared to show up here after stealing my money!?" The darker-skinned tall Daoist pointed at Zhang Rongfang and shouted.
"....." Zhang Rongfang followed the Daoist's gaze to his own chest and understood their intent.
The two before him were taller and stronger than he was; it was clear he wasn't a match for them head-on.
This place was narrow with few people, and he didn't have any loyal friends who would come to help, so it was unlikely he could keep his money safe.
So....
After a moment of silence, Zhang Rongfang suddenly raised his right hand, reaching for his hairpin.
"What are you doing!?" Suddenly, a crisp female voice came from behind.
Zhang Rongfang's movements paused and he stopped.
The two Daoists were about to move in but also stopped.
The three turned towards the voice, as a tall and a short young maiden walked quickly into the alley.
One of them, a girl with a bun tied with a red hairband and a delicate face, was the one who had just spoken.
"Senior Sister Xiao!" Zhang Rongfang recognized her as Xiao Qingying, the only daughter of the master who instructed the menial disciples.
"You two!" Xiao Qingying ignored Zhang Rongfang and instead kept her eyes on the two tall and strong Daoists.
Before she could finish speaking, the two, seeing that things were going south, turned and ran.
The two figures dashed out of the alley in a few strides and quickly disappeared.
Xiao Qingying wanted to chase after them to teach them a lesson, but they were gone in a blink, and she stomped her foot in anger.
"Gone, all clear!" She called to the other girl, passing by Zhang Rongfang without even a glance at him. It was as if he didn't exist.
The two wore green long skirts, with white short jackets; a strand of long hair swayed behind them as they swiftly exited the alley.
"Zhang Rongfang thanks Senior Sister Xiao." Zhang Rongfang didn't mind their attitude; it didn't matter what reason Xiao Qingying had for intervening, help was help.
He cupped his fists with both hands, bowing deeply in the direction the two had left.