The rickshaw pullers’ quarters were tucked in the deepest part of the back courtyard.

The conditions were far from pleasant—a dozen men crammed onto a shared kang bed.

The straw mats were worn glossy, the bedding rolls stained a dull yellow with grease.

The room reeked of sweat and foot odor, so stifling that Xiangzi couldn’t sleep.

He’d rather pull the rickshaw all night—at least he could catch a peaceful nap during the day.

Entering the courtyard, Xiangzi spotted a seven-foot-tall burly man overseeing a group of younger men practicing horse stance.

The man barked out instructions, effortlessly swinging a hundred-pound stone lock, making the young onlookers shrink back in awe.

To hold the top spot on Qingfeng Street, one needed real strength.

These men were Fourth Master Liu’s hired guards.

The burly man was their leader, rumored to have touched the threshold of Bright Force in martial arts.

Of course, Xiangzi, a mere rickshaw puller, knew little of such matters.

“Xiangzi, back already? Smooth night?” The burly man’s neck veins bulged slightly as he set down the stone lock with ease.

“Morning, Brother Tang!” Xiangzi paused and cupped his hands in greeting.

This man was Liu Tang, originally not surnamed Liu, but adopted as a foster son by Fourth Master Liu in his youth, thus taking the surname.

Harmony Rickshaw Yard had three others like him, known as Qingfeng Street’s Four Great Vajras.

In these chaotic times, such foster father-son bonds were a half-step from blood ties. Even warlords favored this custom, let alone a jianghu hero like Fourth Master Liu.

“Brother Tang, what’s a man of your status doing chatting with a third-class puller?” a young guard said with a laugh, setting down his grindstone.

Harmony Rickshaw Yard had strict ranks. Pullers were divided into tiers.

First-class pullers were assigned monthly contracts, ferrying highborn scions in the embassy district who never touched the ground.

Second-class pullers were Harmony’s fixed drivers, earning wages from Fourth Master Liu to haul goods, not passengers.

Third-class pullers, like Xiangzi, paid daily fees to rent rickshaws and depended on Fourth Master Liu’s whims to get work.

Guards ranked above ordinary pullers, each with their own room.

Xiangzi, a mere third-class puller, lived and ate at the yard, nearly on par with second-class treatment, which made him stand out.

At those words, Liu Tang didn’t respond, merely lowering his eyelids. The young guard instantly shut his mouth.

“Fat Yong, watch that flapping tongue of yours! The yard’s rules aren’t for you to yap about!”

The young guards exchanged glances, stunned that Brother Tang would scold Fat Yong—a man whose cousin was Qingfeng Street’s deputy sheriff—for a third-class puller.

Liu Tang’s gaze flicked to Xiangzi’s retreating figure, noticing the lad seemed taller and sturdier than before.

He’d make a fine martial artist, Liu Tang thought.

Shame it’s a bit late for that.

But Liu Tang’s high regard for Xiangzi wasn’t about that.

As Fourth Master Liu’s foster son, he knew Xiangzi had been helping Hu’er with the books.

This rough-looking kid might one day become Harmony’s bookkeeper.

A martial artist of Liu Tang’s caliber had no need to curry favor with a bookkeeper, but it never hurt to show some courtesy.

Pulling two flatbreads from his pocket, Liu Tang warmed them over the fire and stuffed them with braised beef tripe.

The heat melted the braising juices, releasing a rich, meaty aroma.

At eighteen, a growing lad like Xiangzi needed fuel for the road ahead. Beef tripe was far cheaper than prime cuts—ten coppers could buy half a pound.

Xiangzi wolfed it down, barely half-full.

After chugging half a jug of cold water, his stomach finally felt less empty.

Fourth Master Liu had once said Xiangzi could eat with the second-class pullers in the canteen, but Xiangzi never went.

It was a matter of propriety.

As a third-class puller, his presence at the yard was already stirring gossip. Why invite more ridicule?

Living under others’ roofs, treading carefully—this life was hellish.

Xiangzi sighed.

Luckily, he had the [Profession Panel].

[Profession: Rickshaw Puller (Beginner)]

[Progress: 97/100]

[Skill: Fleet-Footed]

[With this skill, you excel at running and gain a slight boost to lower body strength.]

As the name implied, mastering any trade could unlock a profession. With enough practice, he could advance.

It was this Rickshaw Puller profession that let him quickly find his footing at Harmony.

Without a skill, he’d have long been a street beggar.

Moreover, this humble profession strengthened his body.

After a month of pulling, Xiangzi’s legs could now snap a sapling as thick as a child’s arm.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Earning a living through skill was no shame.

And his Rickshaw Puller profession was just 3 points from leveling up!

Xiangzi’s heart raced, wondering what changes the panel might bring at the next level.

Of course, Rickshaw Puller was just the start.

If he could learn martial arts, he might unlock a martial profession.

In these times, martial artists held high status.

Take Liu Tang—barely a ranked martial artist, yet he earned sixty silver dollars a month from Fourth Master Liu.

Even first-class pullers, ferrying nobles in the embassy district, earned only fifteen silver dollars a month.

When Xiangzi first started bookkeeping, the fourfold gap shocked him.

Though he’d heard martial artists needed costly tonics and training, the expenses were steep.

Still, sixty silver dollars was a fortune.

A brand-new rickshaw cost just over a hundred.

Xiangzi let out a long breath, pulled a tattered quilt over himself, and sank into a deep sleep.

Later, the second-class pullers returned, stirring him awake.

A group of sweaty, grimy men bustled in, covered in ore dust.

These second-class pullers lived by hauling cargo.

Fourth Master Liu had a deal to transport ore from the Li family mines outside the city to Forty-Nine City.

The work was dirty but only took half a day, leaving time for side gigs to supplement their income.

Seeing Xiangzi awake, some greeted him with smiles, others with faint disdain.

Xiangzi was used to it. He stowed his bedding in a cabinet, fetched a basin of cold water, and, stripped to his shorts, began washing at the courtyard entrance, revealing lean, wiry muscles.

The early spring water was icy, making him shiver.

He could endure poor food and sleep, but the lack of hot baths was torture.

Yet his habit of cleanliness drew sneers from some.

A tall puller at the entrance, seeing Xiangzi’s fastidiousness, scoffed and peeled off his sweaty shirt, baring a hairy chest. “Fussing over nothing! You really think you’re some civilized gentleman?”

The crowd roared with laughter, the air inside and out buzzing with mirth.