Manager Wang’s gaze was like a cold needle, piercing Chen Ping’s heart and making it clench.

He quickly averted his eyes and walked toward the pile of baskets as usual.

Manager Wang didn’t speak or move, just stood there until Chen Ping shouldered his basket and headed toward the wild grass field with the other Laborers.

Working that day, Chen Ping clearly sensed a different atmosphere.

The Foreman’s whip hovered over his head more frequently than before. When lashing out at slower Laborers nearby, the tip of the whip was deliberately flicked toward him, nearly striking him several times.

Manager Wang paced through the wild grass field with his hands clasped behind his back. Those small eyes of his kept falling on Chen Ping from time to time, carrying scrutiny and an indescribable gloom.

Chen Ping’s nerves were stretched taut.

He dared not show his strength anymore, slowing down his grass-cutting speed and only carrying baskets about two-thirds full. Yet even so, the time he took to finish his share of work was still noticeably faster than those around him.

He could only try to find corners to shrink into for rest, avoiding Manager Wang’s line of sight.

However, hiding was futile.

In the afternoon, it was time to clean the Pigsty.

Just as Chen Ping was struggling to drag a bucket of manure to the dumping spot, Manager Wang strolled over leisurely and stopped in front of him.

“Chen Ping!”

Manager Wang’s voice wasn’t loud, but the surrounding noise seemed to quiet down under it.

“You seem quite spirited lately. Your strength has grown too.”

Chen Ping put down the manure bucket, keeping his head lowered. “Reporting to the Manager, it’s all thanks to your strict guidance. This humble one wouldn’t dare slack off.”

“Hah!” Manager Wang sneered, his oily face expressionless. “Wouldn’t dare slack off? I think you’re quite diligent. Since you’re so energetic… go clean out the Pigsty by the woods on North Slope.”

Chen Ping’s heart sank with a thud.

North Slope?

Those woods were near the Back Mountain, extremely remote. Most crucially, that area had Wild Boar activity.

Just a few months ago, an unlucky Laborer was gored to death by a Wild Boar while cleaning over there; his intestines were spilled all over the ground.

Since then, no one had dared go near that Pigsty. The manure and filth inside had piled up like a mountain, reeking to high heaven. It was also infested with snakes, insects, rats, and pests, becoming a truly treacherous place.

“M-Manager!” Chen Ping’s throat felt dry. “North Slope… I heard it’s not safe there. There are Wild Boars…”

“Scared?”

Manager Wang lifted an eyelid, a flash of cold malice in his small eyes.

“Aren’t you strong? Strong enough to move stone rollers, yet afraid of a few beasts? What? Are my orders not good enough for you?”

His voice suddenly rose sharply, carrying a piercing shrillness.

The surrounding Laborers all stopped their work, not daring to breathe loudly, casting furtive glances this way with evasive eyes.

Chen Ping knew this was deliberate persecution.

Manager Wang had already set his sights on him. Either he suspected Chen Ping had stolen and eaten something, or he was simply dissatisfied because Chen Ping no longer allowed himself to be pushed around like before and wanted to crush him back down.

“This humble one… wouldn’t dare.”

Chen Ping clenched his teeth, forcing down the anger and fear rising in his throat. He knew that resisting now would only invite harsher whipping, or possibly even being beaten to death on the spot.

“Then go!”

Manager Wang flicked his sleeve, his tone brooking no argument. “Get it cleaned up before dark! If you dare slack off or don’t clean it properly… hmph, you know the consequences.”

Manager Wang assigned a Foreman to follow Chen Ping. Ostensibly for supervision, it felt more like an escort in practice.

The Scarred Foreman carried a whip in hand, his gaze fierce and vicious. He impatiently urged Chen Ping to take the tools—a chipped, broken shovel and a manure bucket.

The path to North Slope was rugged and difficult; the further they went, the more desolate it became.

When the solitary Pigsty at the edge of the woods came into view, Chen Ping’s heart sank completely.

Even from far away, an indescribable stench assaulted their senses, dizzying and nauseating.

The wooden door of the Pigsty was half-collapsed; inside was pitch black. The manure inside was long past being liquid; it had solidified into thick, hard lumps piled almost halfway up the sty walls.

The surface of the filth was covered with a dried black crust; who knew how long it had been festering underneath. Flies buzzed around in swarms, forming dark clouds. Faintly visible rats scurried in and out of crevices at the edges of the dung heap.

The Scarred Foreman covered his nose with disgust and took two steps back, pointing at the Pigsty.

“Hurry up! Clean it before dark! I don’t want to stay in this damned place any longer than necessary!”

He found an upwind dirt slope to sit on, laid his whip across his knees, and stared fixedly at Chen Ping.

Looking at that mountain of filth made Chen Ping’s stomach churn violently. He knew there was no way back.

He took a deep breath—immediately regretting it—and held it, wrapping tight rags around his mouth and nose, leaving only his eyes exposed. Then he picked up the broken shovel and stepped into the Pigsty.

As soon as he stepped down, the hard crust cracked. Underneath, sticky, slippery filth instantly submerged his ankles.

The cold, slimy sensation made his scalp crawl. He raised the shovel and forcefully drove it into the dung heap.

Plop!

The shovel sank in with extreme difficulty. The dung lumps were incredibly sticky, clinging stubbornly and refusing to be shaken off.

He could only dig bit by bit, prying and chipping away at them, shoveling sticky blackened chunks into that broken manure bucket.

Each movement required immense effort. Sweat soon soaked through his thin clothes, clinging tightly to his body.

The rags wrapped around his face couldn’t block that brain-piercing stench, making tears stream from his eyes uncontrollably.

Worse still, deep within the dung heap trapped astonishing heat. Once disturbed, an even stronger stench mixed with gas like methane surged up, making him dizzy. Spells of vertigo hit him. Flies swarmed madly toward his face. Rats, startled by his movements, squeaked and scurried wildly, almost bumping into his legs several times.

Time passed bit by bit.

Chen Ping mechanically repeated his actions: digging, filling the bucket. The bucket was small and couldn’t hold much. Once full, he had to drag the heavy bucket, trudging step by step through the slippery filth out of the Pigsty to dump waste in the designated pit a distance away, then return to continue digging.

The Scarred Foreman watched coldly from the dirt slope, occasionally shouting impatiently. “What are you dragging for?! Hurry up!”

The sun gradually dipped westward.

Chen Ping felt his arms like they were poured with lead. Every swing of the shovel pulled at his sore, aching muscles.

The sweat on his back soaked his clothes, then dried in the wind, leaving white salt stains. The rags over his mouth were wet, then dried, then wet again. The dried sweat stains mixed with an indescribable smell made him want to retch.

He didn’t know how long he dug or how many buckets of filth he carried. The Pigsty had only reduced by a thin layer—far from clean.

The sky clouds began to be tinged orange-red.

Just then, strange grunting sounds accompanied by heavy footsteps came from the nearby woods.

Chen Ping’s every hair on his body stood on end! He abruptly stopped his movements, listening intently.

The sounds drew closer, carrying a kind of irritable panting.

Wild Boar!

The Scarred Foreman clearly heard it too. He scrambled up the dirt slope, his face flashing with panic, then turning to fierceness. He grabbed his whip and shouted sharply at Chen Ping.

“What are you looking at?! Get to work! If something comes, hit it!”

Chen Ping’s heart pounded like a drum. He gripped the broken shovel handle, slippery with sweat, barely holding on. He stared fixedly at the shaking bushes at the woods’ edge.