Carrying that token symbolizing "punishment," Mo Fan showed no resistance whatsoever.
Instead, under everyone's watchful eyes, he dragged his "broken body" with a face full of determination toward the most remote Scrap Pile Area of the rear mountain lumber yard.
That place was at the very edge of the entire lumber yard, eight hundred miles away from Abandoned Sword Cliff. Aside from storing crooked or worm-eaten Black Iron Wood, even birds wouldn't bother relieving themselves there.
Upon arrival, Mo Fan didn't rush to "cheat."
As an old slacker who'd crawled through academic circles for years, he deeply understood the principle of "playing the part completely."
On the first day, he acted like a genuine, stubborn low-level servant, wielding that chipped axe and wildly hacking at the iron-hard Black Iron Wood.
Black Iron Wood lived up to its name—densely textured. Each axe strike numbed Mo Fan's hands, yet only left shallow white marks on the wood.
Even with [ Bone Armament ] supporting him internally, after one day Mo Fan was exhausted like a dead dog, his entire skeletal frame ready to fall apart, while pitifully few finished lumber pieces lay on the ground.
At dusk, several kindhearted servants passed by wanting to help, but Mo Fan "righteously" refused them.
"No need! This is the overseer's trial for me! I can do it!"
Covered in sweat with "resolute" eyes, he even had someone relay a message to Old Lü and Er Ya, saying the environment here was serene—he wanted to take this opportunity to calm his mind and cultivate himself. They shouldn't visit for these few days to avoid being scolded by the overseer on his account.
After this performance, not only did it solidify his "stubborn backbone" persona, it also perfectly cleared the area.
Nightfall.
The scrap area was deathly silent except for occasional wolf howls in the distance.
After confirming absolutely no one was within several li, Mo Fan's exhausted and resolute expression instantly vanished.
He found a windproof haystack, lay down comfortably, and crossed his legs.
"Preliminary survey complete. Environment secure."
Mo Fan snapped his fingers and patted his storage pouch.
"Time to work, fellas."
With spatial fluctuations, a strangely-shaped white skeleton appeared in the clearing.
It was Summon No. 001, missing its right arm and covered in scars.
As for Summon No. 003, Mo Fan had mentally controlled it to remain hidden at a distance until now, when he finally let it appear in view after confirming no one was around.
Looking at the newly assembled leopard skeleton No. 003—which seemed ready to fall apart yet maintained its streamlined form—and the one-armed hero No. 001...
Black-hearted contractor Mo Fan came online.
"No. 001, you have one task."
Mo Fan pointed at the mountain-like pile of Black Iron Wood, then at the axe beside it. "Chop them. Standard is three-foot sections to make spirit charcoal material."
Though No. 001 had lost one hand, its remaining left arm was genuinely an enhanced version of human bone with over three times normal human strength. Moreover, as an undead creature without pain sensation and tireless, it completely ignored recoil force.
It walked over, single-handedly lifted the heavy axe—like an emotionless logging machine.
Bang!
One axe strike sent wood chips flying. The wood that had only left white marks after Mo Fan's half-day of chopping split cleanly apart.
"No. 003, you handle transportation."
Mo Fan issued orders to the skeleton leopard. "Drag the wood 001 chops to stack over there. Neatly."
Though No. 003 was a "budget version," it excelled in agility. Those sharp claws, though not yet enhanced, were perfect for gripping wood, and those four legs ran remarkably fast.
Thus, on that dark and windy night, an extremely bizarre scene unfolded on the Azure Cloud Sect's rear mountain:
A one-armed skeleton mechanically swung an axe while a bone leopard shuttled back and forth transporting materials with impressive coordination and efficiency.
This was called—Undead Automated Assembly Line.
No benefits, no overtime pay, not even needing food or water. As long as Mo Fan's Mana wasn't depleted, this machine could run continuously.
At this pace, work that would take two people ten days could be finished by these two skeletons in roughly 2.5 days.
"This is called technology... oh no, magic transforming life."
Mo Fan lay contentedly on the haystack, a grass stem between his teeth, watching this scene full of capitalist atmosphere with heartfelt admiration.
With laborers available, these extra days naturally belonged to this boss's "paid vacation."
Mo Fan didn't waste time.
He sat cross-legged, using this rare absolutely quiet environment to treat his injuries.
[ Bone Armament: Activate ]
Blue Mana flow surged again, penetrating his chest cavity. This time, instead of brutally forcing fixation like during combat, he worked like an embroidering tailor—bit by bit cleaning bone fragments, stimulating periosteum growth, completely setting those fractured ribs.
As time passed, the chest compression gradually disappeared, and the pain of bloody breathing with each breath finally faded.
By noon the second day, his injuries were seventy to eighty percent healed.
Restless, Mo Fan turned his attention to the spoils brought back from Abandoned Sword Cliff's bottom.
"No. 001's hand is broken—can't let it be a one-armed hero forever."
Mo Fan looked at the single-handedly axe-swinging No. 001, his gaze falling on a piece of Black Iron Wood scrap by his feet.
This wood was iron-hard. Though lacking the spirituality of beast bones, it was sufficiently hard and easily obtainable.
"Let's make a prosthetic to tide things over."
Mo Fan picked up his dagger and began carving the wood. Though lacking professional carpentry skills, he had [ Death Vision ] assistance with structural precision down to millimeters.
However, perhaps because wood wasn't a skeletal component and couldn't be used for combat, it didn't trigger the System's assembly requirements.
Half a day later, a crude, pitch-black "wooden arm" with industrial brutalist aesthetics took shape. Mo Fan used [ Bone Armament ]'s properties to generate bone clasps at connection points, forcibly attaching it to No. 001's broken shoulder.
Though flexibility was poor, if swung with full force at someone, it would definitely hurt worse than bone.
Finished with No. 001, Mo Fan pulled out his prized possession—[ Complete Shadow Leopard Pelt ].
This was Tier-1 High-Grade Spirit Beast fur, naturally possessing "Shadow Affinity" properties. On the black market, this could exchange for considerable Spirit Stones.
But Mo Fan didn't plan to sell.
In this crisis-filled world, survival came first.
Using the lumber yard's ready tools and finding medicinal herb juices that could soften fur, he began preliminary tanning of this pelt.
He wasn't an artifact refiner—couldn't make treasures that auto-adjusted size with built-in defensive arrays.
But he had now become a hands-on craftsman with exceptional practical skills.
He cut and stitched the leopard pelt, preserving the leopard head as a hood to create a hooded leather cloak. Though crudely made, this cloak perfectly inherited the Shadow Leopard's characteristics—when worn while standing in shadows, aura and form became extremely difficult to detect.
Third day, afternoon.
Dappled sunlight filtered through the forest.
Most Black Iron Wood had been processed and neatly stacked in the clearing.
Mo Fan was testing camouflage effects while wearing the newly completed cloak that still carried herb scents, crouching perversely in forest shadows.
Suddenly, footsteps and conversation came from a distant path.
"Senior Brother, will that thing really be in this godforsaken place? We've searched for three days."
"Shh! Lower your voice! This news came from the Inner Sect—how could it be false?"
Mo Fan's heart jumped.
These voices... didn't sound like servants, more like cultivators with some background.
He instinctively held his breath, pressing his body tightly against the pitch-black tree trunk while mentally issuing [ Silent Standby ] death orders to No. 001 and No. 003.
Two figures walked past along the forest path.
They were young men in azure robes with jade tokens symbolizing "Inner Sect Disciples" at their waists, looking arrogant yet currently showing anxiety and impatience on their faces.