Early spring: though winter's chill has not yet fully receded, the rainy season has already arrived on Blossom Mountain, leaving everything damp and glistening.
In the evening light, at the logging site on the northwest slope of Blossom Mountain, piles of timber rose like mountains. Dozens of muscle-bound, strength-type demons, exhausted from a day’s labor, gathered to devour their freshly delivered dinner, each one eating ravenously.
Most of them were demons who had only recently joined Blossom Mountain.
Nowadays, with so many new demons arriving, only the newcomers—except for a few special cases—would be assigned such purely physical work. With their level of cultivation, anyone sent to do this kind of heavy labor, if they stay long enough, should have no trouble finding a post in the army.
Of course, that’s only if they pass their literacy classes. This is the biggest difference between the new demons and the old ones.
It’s nearly impossible to find a newly arrived demon who naturally passes the literacy requirement—who can read and write. One can’t help but marvel that Monkey managed to encounter Louis Quickpaw in that vast sea of demons; it truly was fate.
In this world, demons have never lacked strength; what they lack is brains. That’s why Blossom Mountain enforces literacy far more strictly than cultivation.
During mealtime, some demons can be seen holding bowls and chopsticks while tracing characters in their books on the ground, knowing that passing basic literacy is necessary for better jobs.
No one expects poetry or clever couplets—just basic reading, writing, speaking, and listening.
So, are there any demons content with their lot, thinking a bowl of hot food is good enough?
The answer is no.
Logging isn’t the lowest job on Blossom Mountain; on the contrary, it’s one of the better entry-level tasks for newcomers. The work is hard, but the food is plentiful—and always hot.
In such a position, if you fail the literacy class for too long, you’ll likely be replaced by new arrivals. As mentioned before, demons don’t lack strength—there are plenty waiting to take your place.
When that happens, those replaced are sent down to the Underworld City to dig tunnels.
It’s nowhere near as comfortable there—not only is there no sunlight, but cave-ins are a constant danger. Even the food is hard to swallow—not because Blossom Mountain can’t afford better meals or provide comfort, but because only a sharp contrast creates motivation.
The elephant demon squatted, shoveling food from a huge bowl while flipping through a booklet in front of him—its contents as incomprehensible as scripture. Every so often, he’d use his trunk to pick up a stick and scratch at the ground.
Of the five demons who originally arrived together, only he was still logging.
Little White, the pigeon demon, was a different story. Already literate, she was sent straight to school, excelled, and was quickly assigned as a young female scout and messenger in the Recon Corps.
That kind of treatment… just thinking about it made one envious.
The others, who’d logged with him for a few months, had all been transferred to the army. Having endured plenty of hardship on the road here, they were stronger than most demons—and in the army, each had been given a decent post.
Ironically, as their leader, he still hadn’t learned more than two hundred characters—so naturally, he was stuck here.
Sigh...
It was all his own fault for being so clueless at first, thinking that strength alone would guarantee him an important role on Blossom Mountain. Who could have guessed that the person in charge of job assignments was also the one running the school—and that for demons who scorned literacy, the policy was strict suppression.
He’d even gone through Little White to ask Shadow, the Recon Corps’ black-furred leader, for help—but it was useless.
That stubborn squirrel demon, citing regulations, kept him—the Spirit-Transformation-level elephant demon—logging here, not giving him the slightest bit of face.
Still, at least the squirrel demon hadn’t sent him down to the Underworld City to dig tunnels. That was a small mercy.
Sigh...
If only he could put on armor and charge into battle.
Never mind the squad leader’s impressive gear—even a regular soldier’s would do. That’s what he should be doing.
The elephant demon lifted his head to gaze at the setting sun, silently imagining himself one day clad in armor.
Wait—why was Little White the one appearing in his mind? The elephant demon blinked hard, then looked again and cried out, "No, it really is Little White!"
He saw Little White, the pigeon demon, flying toward him from the west, constantly glancing back as she came.
Little White landed beside him in a rush, looking flustered. She told him and the surrounding demons, "Quick, clear out!"
The elephant demon sprang to his feet, clutching his bowl and chopsticks. "What’s going on?"
"Don’t ask—just do as I say!" With that, Little White flapped her wings and continued flying east.
The dozens of burly demons quickly ducked behind piles of stumps, though each stretched their necks to watch.
Soon, a few more Recon Corps demon soldiers swept overhead.
"What are they all doing?"
They exchanged bewildered glances, none the wiser.
After a long while, a figure finally appeared at the end of the mountain path.