A Mortal's Toil

I decided that my first order of business in Azureedge was to find work, earn some Spirit Coins, and support myself. After all, cultivating or seeking revenge wouldn't amount to much if I couldn't even afford a roof over my head or food in my belly. With a sigh, I set out to find a job, any job, that would help me get by in this unfamiliar city.

The first opportunity I stumbled upon was a position hauling crates at the city's bustling marketplace. The job seemed straightforward enough, and the pay, while not great, would be enough to cover my basic needs. Little did I know that I was in for a world of pain and frustration.

On my first day, I arrived at the marketplace, ready to put my back into it and earn some honest Spirit Coins. The market supervisor, a portly man with a permanent scowl, took one look at me and scoffed. "You? A skinny mortal like you thinks he can handle manual labor? Well, let's see what you're made of then."

I gritted my teeth and swallowed my pride. "Just tell me what to do, and I'll get it done," I replied, barely hiding my annoyance.

With a sneer, the supervisor led me to a massive stack of crates filled with all sorts of goods, from food to weapons. "Your job is simple: move these crates from here to the other side of the market. And be quick about it. If any of the merchandise gets damaged, it's coming out of your pay."

I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. The crates were much heavier than they looked, and I soon found myself cursing under my breath with every strained muscle and aching joint. "Damn these blasted crates! Why the hell are they so heavy?"

Despite the pain and frustration, I pushed through, determined to prove the smug supervisor wrong. As the day wore on, my curses grew louder and more colorful, providing a source of amusement for the other laborers and passersby. "By the Ancestors, what in the Ninefold Realms is in these crates? Rocks?!"

But it wasn't all misery and swearing. Amidst the backbreaking labor, I managed to strike up a few conversations with my fellow workers – many of them mortals like me, struggling to survive in a city dominated by cultivators. They shared stories, offered advice, and even taught me a few tricks for making the work a bit more bearable.

As the sun began to set and my workday came to an end, I stood, exhausted and covered in sweat, before the relocated stack of crates. The supervisor eyed me with begrudging respect. "Not bad, mortal. Maybe you're tougher than you look. Come back tomorrow for more work, if you can still move, that is."

With a tired grin and a few more muttered curses, I collected my hard-earned Spirit Coins and limped away, feeling both sore and accomplished. It was a small step, but at least I was making progress in this unforgiving city. And who knew, maybe this backbreaking work would somehow lead me closer to my ultimate goal of cultivation and revenge.