In Order To Ascend, I Became A Modern Wage Slave - Chapter 02: The Cherished Immortal Lord (1)

Chapter 02: The Cherished Immortal Lord (1)

 

“According to media reports, the torrential rain lasting fifteen days in East City’s Huaxi Mountain is finally coming to an end, with long-awaited sunny days returning. This morning at 5 a.m., rescue teams rebuilt a suspension bridge to access Huaxi Mountain. As of today, a total of ten people have been rescued. Fortunately, none of them are in life-threatening condition and have been sent to the nearest hospital for emergency care. Search and rescue operations are still ongoing…”

 

Today marks the sixteenth day since Xi Yu’s accident…

 

Luo Yang sat with his legs crossed, silently listening to the manager report on recent work. His mood had been sour lately, even a bit gloomy, which made the manager speak in a hushed tone, fearing that a wrong word would lead to Luo Yang seizing the opportunity to lash out and vent his frustrations.

 

The manager couldn’t help but glance at Luo Yang’s expression every few sentences.

 

“Is there a report on my face?” Luo Yang frowned, tapping the table twice forcefully. He was about to start scolding when his phone inconveniently rang.

 

“You are the most beautiful cloud in my sky, let me keep you close with all my heart…”

 

A call from an unknown number. Luo Yang cast a glance that said, “Once I finish scolding whoever is on the other end, you’re next,” before turning slightly and answering the call.

 

The manager breathed a sigh of relief.

 

He shrank his neck, mentally beginning a countdown to his doom.

 

He didn’t particularly like this deputy general manager, who had a bad temper and often went from grinning at you one second to scolding you mercilessly the next—a true master of mood swings. By comparison, the boss was much gentler. Even when the team’s performance wasn’t ideal, the boss would smile and encourage them to work harder next time, sometimes even treating them to a meal.

 

Unfortunately, the boss went on a trip to Huaxi Mountain sixteen days ago, only to be caught in a once-in-a-century torrential rainstorm. Most likely, he was already…

 

The manager reached the count of fifteen, took a deep breath, summoned his courage, and carefully glanced over—only to have his heart skip a beat.

 

Terrified.

 

The deputy general manager, whose face had just screamed “your mother died,” now had red eyes, murmured a few words, and bolted out of the room!

 

Everyone watched in disbelief as two crystal-clear teardrops fell onto the desk…

 

Not long after, the manager received good news—Boss Xi was alive!

 

The manager was so overjoyed that he burst into tears. Good days were finally coming! Heaven truly spares good people! Excitedly, he announced the incredible news and sent the most heartfelt message of concern he could muster to Boss Xi.

 

After fifteen days of gloomy rain, bright sunshine finally broke through. A ray of light shone into the room as the manager turned to look out the window, sighing, “Ah—”

 

—

 

“Ah—!”

 

The good-tempered boss, now alive, suddenly opened his eyes wide.

 

A magnified face leaned in close. Xi Yu froze, instinctively throwing a punch.

 

That punch didn’t feel like it came from someone who had just escaped danger and been transferred from the ICU. The doctor was immediately sent reeling, seeing stars, unable to distinguish north from south. Before he could gather his wits, a strong grip clamped around his neck, choking him.

 

Xi Yu gripped him tightly and demanded, “What were you trying to do to me?”

 

His voice sounded as though it had been scraped raw by a saw, hoarse and bitter. Every word tasted of rusted iron, unbearably bitter.

 

Xi Yu loosened his grip slightly, listening as the doctor stammered a lengthy explanation. Surprisingly, he understood all of it, though comprehending it was still somewhat difficult.

 

—He had encountered danger on Huaxi Mountain and was rescued by emergency personnel before being rushed to the hospital. Having just been transferred from the ICU to a general ward, the doctor was here to check on his condition.

 

Hospital, doctor…

 

Xi Yu released him, sitting back down heavily on the bed. He rubbed his temples and asked, “How am I doing?”

 

Still shaken, the doctor stammered, “V-very…good. You could…potentially be discharged as early as tomorrow.”

 

Xi Yu nodded. “Hm.”

 

He was puzzled.

 

Although he had been meditating and cultivating on the mountain for over a hundred years without leaving, why did he now barely understand human speech?

 

Frowning, he sat silently for a long while before finally asking, “What year is it now?”

 

“Huh?” The doctor was startled, but eventually answered, “2023.”

 

Xi Yu frowned again, not comprehending. He asked, “Who governs the country today?”

 

“The Communist Party of China.”

 

Xi Yu: “?”

 

Well, after all, it had been over a hundred years. Times changed, dynasties rose and fell, customs evolved—it was normal. Waving his hand dismissively, he said, “Alright, I understand. You may leave.”

 

After the doctor left, the room was quiet with only Xi Yu remaining. He sat there for a while, then began examining his surroundings. A peculiar bed, incomprehensible large devices, white walls, and a black square hanging on the wall. He stood up and walked around.

 

When he first woke up, he thought he was dead. After all, with such heavy yin energy, where else could this be but the underworld? But then, a flood of inexplicable knowledge filled his mind—things he shouldn’t know.

 

For example, this place was called a hospital, far larger in scale than the medical halls of his time, with thousands of doctors and tens of thousands of patients. He now understood that birth, aging, sickness, and death were common here. Given its scale, heavy yin energy was normal.

 

However… Xi Yu stopped in his tracks.

 

The reflection on a large black screen in front of him showed his face.

 

A man with a thin frame, sharp facial features, and distinct yet non-aggressive features stared back. Aside from a pair of impatient phoenix eyes, Xi Yu hardly recognized himself.

 

He stared blankly for a long moment…

 

Bang!

 

“Yu, I’m here—”

 

The door was flung open. Xi Yu quickly snapped back to reality, moving with speed that defied belief. In the blink of an eye, he had appeared behind the man, shut the door, and pinned the man’s arm against the wall.

 

“…Ah…ahhh!”

 

Xi Yu growled lowly, “Who are you?”

 

Luo Yang: “?!”

 

Thirty minutes later, the black screen Xi Yu had used to observe himself lit up, showing moving pictures and emitting sound. The awkward silence between the two eased slightly.

 

Each occupying a bed, Xi Yu watched the “television” with interest, while Luo Yang buried himself in his phone, repeatedly searching for answers.

 

For a moment, it was unclear which of the two was more shaken to their core.

 

Luo Yang meticulously analyzed every word Xi Yu had said, searching online to verify them. Finally, he concluded that his dear friend wasn’t possessed or from another world—he had simply lost his mind.

 

This was because neither the Kingdom of Xi Yu nor the Yuan Zhen era existed in history. Huaxi Mountain’s Huaxi Prefecture was built in 1200 AD during the Southern Song Dynasty. Based on Xi Yu’s claims, none of it aligned with actual history—everything was completely fabricated!

 

Forcing himself to understand, Luo Yang reasoned that Xi Yu had always been superstitious. After experiencing such a traumatic event, it was natural for him to become unhinged.

 

Luo Yang taught Xi Yu how to use the remote to change TV channels. Xi Yu’s learning ability was astonishingly fast—he mastered it in no time, leaving Luo Yang relieved.

 

Although Xi Yu claimed to be an ancient cultivator, interacting with him was easier than dealing with grandparents in a nursing home.

 

“Yu,” Luo Yang said warmly.

 

Xi Yu shot him an unfriendly look. “Do I not have a name? Are we that close?”

 

“…” Luo Yang awkwardly smiled and explained, “I’ve always called you that out of habit. How should I address you? Would using your full name be too formal?”

 

Xi Yu thought for a moment and asked, “Is our current leader really called the Communist Party of China?”

 

Luo Yang: “?” Aren’t you an ancient cultivator? How do you even know about that?

 

Xi Yu, unbothered by trivialities, replied, “Then call me the Communist Party of China.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Luo Yang felt his earlier worries were misplaced. His ancient cultivator friend would definitely adapt to modern society—whether freely or behind bars, however, remained uncertain.

 

Luo Yang forced a laugh, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and sidestepped the issue. “Then I’ll just call you ‘comrade.’”

 

Xi Yu frowned. “What does that mean?”

 

“A member of the Communist Party of China—someone who loves the Party and the people!”

 

Something in that explanation seemed to please Xi Yu. He nodded in satisfaction and said, “Alright, call me that then.”

 

“Comrade.” Luo Yang felt a patriotic glow rising within him, almost wanting to salute the man opposite him, but he managed to restrain himself. He continued, “Are you hungry? Do you want to eat something?”

 

Xi Yu flipped through the channels, finally stopping on one that interested him. He discarded the remote, tossing it aside. Luo Yang quickly stepped forward, catching the remote mid-air before it hit the ground and shattered. Just as he let out a relieved breath, he heard Xi Yu casually say, “According to the timeline you’ve given me, I stopped eating mortal food thousands of years ago.”

 

“Um…” Luo Yang looked at Xi Yu.

 

The oversized hospital gown hung loosely on his frame, making him appear painfully thin. Yet here he was, claiming he had stopped eating?

 

“By the way,” Xi Yu raised a hand and pointed at the television. “Didn’t you say people in this era no longer practice cultivation or believe in ghosts and gods? Then what is this?”

 

Luo Yang followed his gaze.

 

Oh no!

 

It was a cliché fantasy drama about immortal love!

 

“That’s all staged acting.”

 

“If you don’t understand it, how can you perform such things?” Xi Yu seemed determined to press the matter.

 

Luo Yang didn’t want to explain further and decided to give up. “It’s mainly because I don’t have spiritual roots. I’m just an ordinary person who knows nothing about such things.”

 

Xi Yu raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze.

 

After a long moment, he turned away, tossing out a light comment: “I figured as much.”

 

With the words “useless mortal” practically branded on his forehead by Xi Yu, Luo Yang left the hospital room. His first instinct wasn’t to go downstairs to buy food but to head straight to Xi Yu’s attending physician. Looking despondent, he asked, “Could the psychiatrist take a look at my friend?”

 

The attending physician seemed to understand immediately. “Tonight.”

 

Luo Yang sighed deeply. The doctor sighed in tandem, patting him on the shoulder for comfort. “Think positively. Although your friend may have suffered some mental trauma and developed psychological issues, compared to the others who were brought in alongside him, he’s very lucky. They’re still in the ICU, hovering between life and death.”

 

“His recovery rate is practically a miracle!”