I was rejected by the Azure Cloud Sect for "linguistic heresy." Apparently, my use of terms like "KPI," "deliverables," and "horizontal integration" when describing their qi-gathering methods was offensive to the Immortal Will.
"You're too loud, too chaotic, and you talk about management theory instead of the Dao," the recruiter had told me, closing the massive, brass-studded gate in my face. He didn't even give me a secondary review. No follow-up email. No feedback. Just a solid wood door and a face full of ancient dust.
"Fine!" I yelled through the keyhole. "Your customer service is abysmal anyway! I'm leaving a one-star review on the local spiritual net! Good luck attracting top-tier talent with that kind of attitude!"
Han grabbed me by the collar and physically dragged me away from the gate before the guards could decide to use us as target practice. "Can you not yell at the furniture? It's brass. It doesn't have feelings. And there is no spiritual net. You are shouting at a door, Caelan. A door."
"Someone has to hold them accountable."
"By screaming at a keyhole?"
"By any means necessary."
He let go of my collar and rubbed his temples. His hands were still shaking slightly, but the MTL was fading. On day one of our acquaintance, he would have called me "benefactor" and apologized for being unworthy. Now he just looked at me like I was a headache he hadn't signed up for.
Progress.
So, I did what any reasonable professional would do when faced with a hiring freeze: I lied on my resume.
We traveled for three days. It was a miserable trek through valleys that looked like they had been rendered on a graphics card that was currently melting. The grass was a flat green texture, the trees were copy-pasted at fifteen-degree angles, and the sky had a weird seam running down the middle where the clouds didn't align. Han complained about his rice-bowl diet the entire time, his stomach letting out a series of rumbling protests that sounded like a low-frequency diesel engine.
On the second day, we encountered a traveling merchant whose wagon had lost a wheel. He was sitting on a rock, staring at the sky with a glazed expression. When I approached him to ask for directions, he stiffened, blinked twice, and spoke in a perfectly flat, monotone voice:
"Greetings, traveler! The roads are dangerous these days. Would you like to buy some low-grade spirit herbs for five copper coins?"
"Actually," I said, "I was wondering if you knew the quickest way to the Iron Blood Sect. And also if you have any aspirin. This world's resolution is giving me a migraine."
The merchant blinked again, his head twitching slightly to the left. "Greetings, traveler! The roads are dangerous these days. Would you like to buy some low-grade spirit herbs for five copper coins?"
"Yeah, I heard you the first time, buddy. I'm declining the prompt. I asked a directional question. Let's redirect our focus. Search query: Iron Blood Sect location."
"Greetings, traveler! The roads are dangerous these days. Would you like—"
"He's stuck!" Han hissed, grabbing my arm. "His soul has been consumed by a devil! We must flee before the curse spreads to us!"
I looked at him. "You almost sounded like a normal person for a second there, and then you said 'his soul has been consumed by a devil.'"
"Because it HAS!"
"He's not cursed, Han. He's just poorly coded."
I stepped behind the merchant. Sure enough, right between his shoulder blades, only I could see a tiny, flickering blue text box:
[NPC_Dialogue_State: Idle_Query_01 (Loop: True)]
"Hold on, let me debug this guy."
"What are you doing?!" Han shrieked. "You're reaching into a man's spine! You're committing a demonic ritual!"
"Chill out, it's basic backend maintenance." My fingers caught the edge of the invisible Loop: True parameter. I flicked it to False.
The merchant shuddered. The glazed look vanished, replaced by sudden confusion. He looked at his wagon, then at us. "Ah... bloody hell. My wheel's gone again. And why have I been standing on this rock for six hours?"
"You're welcome. Now, about those directions?"
"Go left at the fork," he muttered, looking at me with deep suspicion. "And stay away from my wagon. I don't know what kind of curse you just laid on me, but I don't want any part of it."
We walked away. Han was unusually quiet. He kept glancing over his shoulder at the merchant, then at me, then pulling out a scrap of paper from his robe and scribbling something on it with a piece of charcoal.
"What are you writing?" I asked.
"Documenting your episodes," he said, not looking up. "For the asylum. When I find one. They'll want records."
I had created a monster.
When we finally arrived at the gates of the Iron Blood Sect on the third day, the scene was far less grand than the Azure Cloud Sect. The walls were made of rough, black stone that looked like it had been piled up by angry toddlers. The recruiter was a massive man with a beard that could host a family of badgers and a scar that ran from his left ear to his chin. He was sitting at a splintered wooden desk, snoring loudly.
I knocked on the desk.
The recruiter snorted, woke up, and glared at me with one bloodshot eye. "What? More trash? If you're here to join, sign the paper. If you die during the trial, we keep your boots."
"Actually," I said, leaning over the desk, "I'm here to negotiate my placement. I am Caelan MacGregor, and this is my associate, Han. We're looking for an entry-level disciple position with a competitive benefits package."
The recruiter stared at me. He looked at Han, who was currently trying to dissolve into the background wall. "Placement? Benefits? What nonsense is this? You either have the bone structure for cultivation or you don't. Show me your hand."
He grabbed my wrist. His grip felt like an iron vise. He closed his eyes, searching for my meridians.
Immediately, a small, blue system window popped up in front of his face. Only I could see it.
[OBJECT: CAELAN_MACGREGOR - FILE PATH NOT FOUND. MERIDIAN_LOGIC: ERROR.]
The recruiter blinked, shaking his head. "What... what is this? I can't feel your core. It's like... there's nothing there. How are you breathing?"
I reached out, casually grabbing the invisible [ERROR] box floating in front of his nose. I dragged it slightly to the left so it didn't block my view. The recruiter watched my hand move through empty air, utterly bewildered.
"I'm operating on a legacy system," I explained. "It's called the 'Shattered Wind Technique.' It's a proprietary, high-disruption cultivation methodology that optimizes core breathing frequencies. I bypass the traditional meridian pathway and stream my energy directly from the void. Cloud-based cultivation."
"Cloud... based?" The recruiter's brain was melting. To him, I was waving my hands at invisible spirits. "I have cultivated for eighty years. I've never heard of the Shattered Wind Technique. Are you from the Western Continent?"
"I'm from Glasgow. Very prestigious sect. Now, let's talk about the contract. We require a basic dental plan—I don't want my teeth falling out if I get hit by a flying sword—fourteen days of paid time off, and a clear path to middle management. Han also wants a subsidized rice allowance. We want to align our corporate synergies with your sect's expansion goals."
"Dental... PTO..." The recruiter looked at the registration form, then at the sky, then at Han.
"Please," Han whispered, his voice trembling. "Please just ignore him. He fell on his head as a child. Just give us the shovels. I will shovel the rocks. I will shovel all the rocks."
The recruiter let out a long, confused sigh. "Listen. We have a quota. The Sect Master wants a thousand tons of iron ore cleared from the lower peaks by end of month. If you want to join, you carry the rocks. If you survive, you get a manual. If you don't, the crows get a meal. Sign here."
He pushed a piece of parchment toward me, stained with old grease and dried blood.
"Perfect." I grabbed the brush. "We'll accept the manual labor assignment as a temporary internship. But I'm writing a memorandum about the lack of dental coverage."
I signed. Han signed with a hand that shook so badly it looked like a spider crawled across the page.
The recruiter threw two rusty shovels and a pair of worn burlap robes at us. "Go to the lower peak. Don't touch the red rocks. They explode."
"Exploding rocks." I slung the shovel over my shoulder. "Great. A classic hazard-filled workplace."
Han just shook his head slowly, staring at the ground as we walked. "We are slaves, Caelan. We are literally slave laborers in a death-sect. You signed us up for manual labor in a place where the rocks explode. And you're smiling."
"Because, Han," I said, looking down at the path. Underneath the dirt, the blue wireframe grid was incredibly clear here. The lines were thick, pulsing with bright, erratic energy. "Being ignored is the greatest superpower you can have in a place like this. Nobody watches the interns. And while they're fighting demonic beasts and screaming about the Dao, we'll be in the server room."
"I don't want to dismantle anything. I just wanted a warm meal."
"Then help me carry these shovels." I grinned. "We have some code to dig up."