Chapter Thirty-Three: The Meeting

Servants?

Fan Bei truly admired this salesman at his door, who could so precisely grasp his needs. The man must have known that Fan Bei had just acquired a cultivation method, and now needed time to practice more than anything.

A servant—no, several servants—absolutely trustworthy ones at that, were indeed exactly what he required at the moment.

But how did the other party guarantee that the servants would be “absolutely trustworthy”?

So he asked directly, “How do you guarantee that?”

“Of course—by contract. A contract sealed with our boss’s personal stamp. As long as both parties sign, all terms will be strictly observed,” Xie Bo replied earnestly.

Fan Bei was surprised. “Your boss? Who is your boss? Is his personal stamp really so powerful?”

“Our boss’s name cannot be spoken lightly; it only appears in the most crucial places,” Xie Bo’s eyes glowed with fanaticism. “He is the most mysterious and noble existence in this universe. His arrival will guide us toward the brightest future. Only by embracing him can we defeat the evil spirits lurking in the shadows, the unease of the unknown, and find peace in our souls.”

Oh, so your boss is like a supercharged version of Little Bai...

Little Bai, you’re slipping—couldn’t even fool a single dog, while these people have managed to hoodwink an entire merchant association.

Fan Bei couldn’t help but recall his real identity, feeling the pressure. As the creator of a system, he should be the most mysterious and noble existence in this universe. Yet now he had to rely on a small merchant caravan—he was a long way from living up to his reputation.

Turning these thoughts over, he replied, “If what you say is true, then I’m rather interested. But how can you assure me the contract doesn’t contain any traps?”

“If you’re worried about traps, that’s quite simple. You can sign using your dog’s name... For many new clients, we recommend this,” Xie Bo smiled gently, unperturbed. “Our boss has said we must learn to endure new clients’ distrust—that’s their right.”

Ah, now I feel a bit sorry for Da Bai. Maybe I should use Little Bai’s name... No, that would only give that guy another helper.

Decision made: I’ll use Iron Egg’s name.

Iron Egg is Da Bai’s toy, Da Bai is my pet, so there’s a degree of control.

Fan Bei quickly decided. He truly needed a servant, and he was also curious about the abilities of the merchant association.

If their intentions were malicious, these metal gates and walls meant to keep out evil spirits would be useless. Better to trade and buy time than provoke them now.

Besides, it wasn’t convenient for him to concoct another 'good person system.' Such things could be done only once—repeat it, and any clever observer would suspect the shelter itself had a secret.

So he said, “Alright, how do we proceed with the transaction?”

“Excellent, Village Chief Fan, you’ve made an absolutely wise decision. You’ll be grateful for it in the future,” Xie Bo praised himself first, then explained, “The process is simple: you select the type of servant you want, I’ll let them appear for you to choose, and once you’ve made your pick, I’ll send you the contract. Your dog can then stamp it with its paw. Afterward, the servant will enter your shelter for a one-week trial. Then, depending on the trial, you can pay or refuse—just the weekly wage is required.”

“You seem quite confident,” Fan Bei considered—the process was beyond reproach.

“Of course. After all, our backing is beyond the imagination of mere mortals,” Xie Bo said confidently.

---

“I need a domestic servant—someone who can cook, clean, and care for pets. I’ll send out a remote-control car; place the contract on it. If the contract’s fine, I’ll open the door and let them in.”

“Mr. Fan’s caution is a fine quality for survival in this wasteland. I personally admire it greatly,” Xie Bo smiled, then tilted his head and clapped his hands, seemingly speaking into a headset, “Alright, let our domestic servants appear for the employer to choose. For this category, you have seven options.”

Three minutes later, the first domestic servant walked up to the door’s camera.

He was an elderly man, probably in his fifties, with a face full of wrinkles. To Fan Bei’s surprise, the man was exposed to the air without the thick copper armor worn by the people from Copper Fortress.

“He’s skilled in a variety of cuisines, has the standards of a four-star hotel chef, patient, adept at all household chores, and very popular with pets,” Xie Bo introduced briefly.

Next came the second—a middle-aged woman with a scar on her face and a sharp chin, of average appearance.

“She is extremely diligent and excels at household cleaning, though her temper is a bit impatient.”

After seeing the seventh person, Fan Bei was about to nod in decision when, suddenly, Da Bai—who was sprawled on the chair, secretly watching the monitor—began barking and shaking its head furiously, looking completely dissatisfied.

Fan Bei listened and was immediately embarrassed.

“Hmm, does your pet disapprove?” Xie Bo prided himself on reading clients’ expressions—he’d clearly seen Fan Bei ready to place an order, so why the sudden change? Had he misjudged the client again?

“It’s nothing, ignore that silly dog. I make the decisions here,” Fan Bei said firmly.

If he actually took the dog’s advice, he’d only be digging his own grave.

Da Bai immediately drooped its head in dejection.

“Very well, which one will you choose?”

“I’ll take the first gentleman, the chef,” Fan Bei said seriously.

Cooking was the biggest drain on energy—at least two hours a day. As for laundry and cleaning, those could be done every few days, and weren’t particularly technical.

“Alright, I’ll prepare the contract for you now,” Xie Bo bowed deeply.

---

Ten minutes later, having chosen his servant, Fan Bei sat in a swivel chair in the control room, carefully reading the 25-page contract in his hands.

The contract was so detailed it gave him a headache.

That was his first impression.

“Type of labor contract: Domestic servant trial employment contract.”

“First: Definition of servant’s work scope...”

“Second: Servant’s code—may not harm the employer or the employer’s interests...”

“Third: Employer’s code...”

Hmm, very reasonable. Why did Lang Sheng say that Silver City Merchant Association people would snatch and sell people as slaves? The contract didn’t indicate that.

---

It was only when he reached the end that he understood.

“Payment terms: The trial week’s wage is fixed at ten standard silver coins issued by the Silver Merchant Association. Formal employment is either a one-time buyout or monthly payments. Prices are as follows: this level of servant, monthly wage is thirty standard silver coins; a one-time payment of ten years’ wages to the Silver Merchant Association buys out the servant for life;”

“Or, monthly employment—as long as you transfer the wage to the local branch of the Silver Merchant Association, but the contract requires a minimum one-year employment. After that, monthly payments are allowed.”

“Note: Thirty standard silver coins exchange for ten grams of gold.”

So that’s it—no matter how well the earlier terms are written, when it comes to money, the true nature is revealed. Lang Sheng wasn’t wrong; they really were selling people.

Because the payment never mentioned giving wages to the servant themselves. Dark—truly dark.

The employer pays, the servant gets nothing, and the employer must also provide room and board. Without wages, how could the servant work diligently?

Finally, Fan Bei saw the signature section.

“Party A’s signature/seal: (), Party B’s signature/seal (Xie Bo), Guarantor: (#￥#@￥!).”

The guarantor’s section was a complex pattern—neither Chinese nor English.

Looking closely, it was made up of black straight lines intersecting with green or red curves. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t recall where he’d seen it before.

“Well, now I’m reassured,” Fan Bei nodded and said to Da Bai, “Bring your brother Iron Egg over here.”

Da Bai was sprawled on the ground, sulking, but when he heard this, he got up reluctantly and trotted west.

About five minutes later, he returned, carrying a small bamboo basket in his mouth, with the familiar iron ball inside.

Fan Bei grabbed the iron ball, found an ink pad, pressed it onto the ball, and finally stamped a neat circle in the Party A section of the contract.

“From now on, this will be your brother Iron Egg’s servant. Don’t make things difficult for him,” Fan Bei said solemnly after stamping.

Da Bai had no choice but to nod.

After finishing, he sent the contract out with the remote-control robot, then slowly opened the shelter door, revealing the passage behind. The corridor was a hundred meters long, ending in another door, which he did not open.

Xie Bo smiled faintly, immediately understanding Fan Bei’s intention. He allowed only the fifty-year-old chef to enter through the door.

As expected, after the chef entered, the door closed again.

Xie Bo shook his head, out of view of the cameras, curling his lip: “Pointless caution.”

Fan Bei, through the surveillance system and the corridor’s speakers, guided the chef onward.

Under his direction, the chef spent over twenty minutes winding through twists and turns before reaching the crossroads.

Then, heading west, he finally arrived at the control room, where, after five years, Fan Bei once again met another person face to face.