Becoming a god starts with one certificate becoming eternal.

The footsteps grew closer.

The wind was squeezed into a thin line, and the chilling air, like splitting snow, surged up the gravel slope to the North Furnace. The miasma was stirred up and rolled, forming a grayish-white layer that clung to the skin like cold sweat.

Three members of the Green Owl Gang came against the wind.

The gray owl pattern on the cuff of the leader's sleeve flickered in the twilight, like the open eyes of a bird.

Grey sleeves.

Ye Xiao's Adam's apple twitched slightly.

The black-sleeved ones collect money, and the thugs wield sticks; the gray-sleeved ones neither wield sticks nor collect money. They represent the rules, and more importantly, they hold the power of life and death.

Remember those who are capable.

Also remember those who should disappear.

They deliberately stopped on the edge where the miasma couldn't reach, as if they found it dirty, or more like they were afraid of getting tainted by something they shouldn't.

The workers at the North Furnace seemed to have a rope around their throats, frozen in place, swallowing back the coughs they had been suppressing, and even their breathing became lighter.

Ye Xiao saw it, but didn't move.

He still stood atop the furnace, the iron ladder beneath his feet swaying slightly in the wind, the gusts of air scraping against his skin. The boy's back was thin, yet he was like a nail driven into iron... Now was a crucial moment; he could not stop, nor did he want to stop.

The footsteps stopped at the foot of the stove.

The leader, Gray Sleeves, didn't speak at first, but simply raised his hand to smooth out his cuffs.

The process was extremely slow, as if they were laying out the rules first before discussing human life.

His gaze swept upwards along the miasma blown away by the wind, passing over several ashen faces, and finally settling on the thin figure by the hearth.

There was no surprise or admiration in his eyes.

There is only one kind of chilling confirmation... like picking out 'usable' ones from a pile of corpses.

Hui Xiu spoke, her voice low and even polite:

"Is the foreman here?"

As soon as that polite remark landed, it felt as if the wind in the North Furnace had been pressed down.

Several elderly workers nearby, who were coughing, forced themselves to suppress their coughs and even slowed their breathing.

The foreman rushed forward, bending lower than usual, his hand unconsciously touching the old copper coin in his pocket, as if touching it would make the account more stable.

"Yes, Master Chen. It's cold, your feet might slip."

"That's thoughtful." Master Chen nodded, as if he had heard, but didn't seem too concerned: "How many people have died at the North Furnace in the past month...?"

The question was asked casually, like asking how much firewood was used today.

The foreman's scalp tightened, and he lowered his voice even further: "Seventeen in total..."

"Seventeen, that's one every two days on average."

Master Chen repeated softly, his tone still gentle: "The higher-ups have instructed that deaths are considered losses, not accidents. It doesn't matter how many die."

He paused, as if checking the entries:

"Dying on the stove or falling ill in the dormitory, it's all manageable."

"If they fall and make a noise... then things will get complicated."

The foreman nodded repeatedly: "Yes, yes, I understand. I have always followed the rules and kept a close eye on things so that no one makes any noise."

Master Chen raised his hand, and the bamboo skewer slowly spun around between his fingers.

As the bamboo skewer turned, it stopped and pointed to the slender figure on the edge of the stove:

"Who is that?"

The foreman's heart tightened, but he still forced a smile: "Reporting to Master Chen, his name is Ye Xiao, he's new here, the furnace operator."

"The furnace operator." Master Chen uttered the three words as if they were on the tip of his tongue: "Last time, one of the furnace operators died. Do you remember the rules?"

The foreman's forehead instantly broke out in a sweat: "I remember, I remember. It's just that Linzi twisted his ankle and can't keep up for a while... This kid's bones are strong, he can stand, there won't be any more accidents."

"He's got a strong backbone." Master Chen repeated softly, his voice even lower: "Then he must remember the rules even more."

He tilted his head to the side, gesturing to the corpse covered with burlap near the stove, his tone still sounding reasonable:

"Two people dying in one day, is it a problem with the furnace... or a problem with your personnel management?"

The foreman's face turned pale, and he bowed even lower: "No, no, it was my fault for speaking carelessly, I spoke nonsense, Master Chen, please forgive me... please forgive me."

Mr. Chen didn't pursue the matter further; instead, he seemed to be offering words of comfort.

"take it easy."

"I'm not here to make things difficult for you; I'm here to help you clear up the accounts."

The gentler the words, the more chilling they are.

He looked away and added casually:

"I don't care if you throw the city into the fire, but you still need to know your limits."

"If it really burns and causes an accident... the first people to be investigated are foremen like you."

The foreman nodded repeatedly, cold sweat trickling down his temples, his fingertips gripping the copper coins in his pocket until they turned white, as if he were holding onto his own life.

Master Chen stopped looking at him, tucked the bamboo skewer into his waistband, and raised his chin:

"Tell him to come down."

The foreman, feeling like he'd escaped death, immediately rushed up and shouted, "Ye Xiao! Come down!"

Ye Xiao walked down the iron ladder.

The wind whipped at him, making his tattered clothes flutter loudly. The iron ladder swayed slightly, but with each step he took, he landed with a firm, resolute stance; the ladder trembled slightly, but he remained perfectly still.

The moment he landed, half a pebble rolled under his feet, and his heel sank slightly, causing the pebble to stop rolling immediately.

Master Chen glanced at him for a couple of breaths, not to admire him, but to check, as if confirming that the consumable was currently up to standard.

"How long have you been standing here today?" Master Chen asked.

The foreman dared not answer.

Ye Xiao spoke up himself: "Six hours."

"Six hours," Master Chen repeated softly, as if adding this to a book: "Then let's calculate it as six hours. It'll be the same from now on, at least this number."

He looked at Ye Xiao, his tone even carrying a hint of reasoning gentleness:

"All I need is for the North Furnace to keep burning continuously and to avoid any accidents."

Whether you can hold on or not is up to fate.

"If you can't hold on and you fall down, don't make a sound."

In just a few words, they neatly and cleanly categorized "people" as "losses".

The stove was eerily quiet.

The foreman's face turned pale, and he hurriedly said, "Sir, this child has been working like this for several days in a row. I even saw him vomiting blood today... Vomiting blood is one thing, but if he continues to work for such long hours every day, and he loses his strength and falls off the edge of the furnace, that will be an accident, and I will be held responsible."

Old Chen looked at the foreman, as if patiently listening to him finish, before slowly speaking:

"What you're worried about is the accounts."

"What I'm worried about is also the accounts."

He chuckled softly, a very faint smile:

"A substitution is possible."

"Give me one right now... something that can withstand the wind, stand firm, and not fall down."

The foreman's throat tightened, and he couldn't utter a single word.

He thought and thought, but he really couldn't find anyone who could rival Ye Xiao.

Master Chen shifted his gaze back to Ye Xiao, as if to paste a name onto his face:

"Ye Xiao".

He read it very softly, yet it sounded like a stamp.

The next moment, Master Chen turned and left, followed by the other two men in black sleeves.

As he left, Master Chen turned back and glanced at Ye Xiao one last time… without any warmth, only confirmation: the registration was complete.

Only after the three figures had completely disappeared did the workers at the North Furnace dare to breathe again.

"It's over... None of the members of Greysleeves have ever had a good ending."

"Working on the furnace is a life-threatening job. He's tough because he can endure it. If he had to keep standing there, he would have been carried out sooner or later."

The whispers were hushed, yet they were all the more piercing.

The foreman let out a long breath, as if he had just crawled back from the brink of death.

He looked at Ye Xiao with a complex expression, a mixture of fear, resentment, and a hint of inexplicable relief.

After a long pause, he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence:

"Go back and rest for a while, then come back to the station tomorrow morning."

He paused, then added, as if to first clean himself up:

"You've been here for three days now. I'll have someone send your wages home. From now on, just like what Master Chen said, you'll work six hours a day without fail."

Ye Xiao hummed softly.

The burning pain in his chest was still churning, like embers twisting in his lungs; yet his feet felt as heavy as iron, and even the wind couldn't shake his center of gravity.

Just then, the character for destiny silently appeared in his field of vision:

【Crimson Blood Stake - Minor Completion: 1/600】

Ye Xiao's breathing paused for a moment.

The pain is still there.

But in the deepest part of the pain, something extremely thin and bright is rising, as if someone has lifted him up an inch from where he was barely standing, until he can truly stand still.

He clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking softly.

The force tightened within his flesh, like ropes being twisted one by one. The pain deep within his sternum, tormented by miasma and extreme temperatures all day, was also pressed down inch by inch.

Dead end?

To others, it's a dead end.

For him... not necessarily.

Ye Xiao turned and left the North Furnace.

The wind was still cold, and the miasma was still sticky, but the chill no longer stung him; it was more like a reminder: this place can devour people, and it can also sharpen knives.

……

At the entrance of the workers' quarters, a pile of embers was crackling and burning, and several workers were squatting around it, warming their hands.

Someone looked up and saw Ye Xiao emerge from the shadows, and paused for a moment.

"You're down?"

"Didn't they say they'd hold the fort for three days straight? And never leave the North Furnace? How could they walk back?"

"Even if he really has training, he probably can't withstand that hellish place, the North Furnace."

"Keep your voice down." Another quickly lowered his voice: "We just got word that Master Chen specifically named him today, so he'll have to stay on as the furnace operator."

Whispers scurried about in the ashes like a swarm of rats, only to be quickly trampled out. Several people met Ye Xiao's gaze and instinctively looked away.

They were afraid, dared not approach, and felt a bit unlucky.

Those who are named by Graysleeves are no longer considered "living people" in their eyes.

Ye Xiao didn't stop.

He understands those gazes.

In the lower city, getting close to a "dying person" often brings bad luck.

Just as he turned out of Gongliao Alley, he ran into a group of people carrying a door panel wrapped in rags, with a bulge on it.

The wind blew up a corner of the tattered cloth, revealing a bit of grayish-white wrist... frozen stiff, with fingers bent unnaturally.

Someone muttered a curse in a low voice.

"How many is this?"

"The eighteenth person to die in the North Furnace was a furnace operator who died at home. He inhaled too much miasma and couldn't control himself during his recovery, so he exploded."

The door wobbled, revealing half a face beneath the tattered cloth.

His eyes were half-open, his lips were covered with a dark purple layer, and there were still undried black marks at the corners of his eyes, as if he was trying to take his last breath before he died, but he couldn't.

It is a forest.

The one who sprained his ankle can't lift himself up to the stove.

Ye Xiao paused for a moment, feeling as if someone had gently tapped his chest with their knuckles.

The men carrying the corpse glanced at him, then quickly looked away. One of them pursed his lips and muttered:

"They're changing furnace operators really fast. I wonder how long they can hold out this time."

Ye Xiao didn't speak.

He watched that purplish face flash past him, as if the future had been carried away first.

He said very softly to himself:

"I won't lie down on it."

The wind blew in, billowing the tattered cloth again, and the door swayed and disappeared at the end of the alley.