Necromancer Farming Notes Figure Master

In front of a noisy construction site, a group of haggard-looking people gathered. They peered into the site, seemingly waiting for something.

One of the leaders addressed the group in a foreign language: “The foreman will be coming out to select workers in a little while, so you all need to be more proactive! You need to cherish the jobs you have. Don’t think you’re still in your own country; you’re in a new country now! You’d better adjust your attitude!”

Everyone nodded silently, seemingly resigned to their fate.

They all illegally immigrated to this country because of war in their own countries. Because they were undocumented, they had no way of finding legitimate work.

In addition, they do not speak the local language, so they can only rely on the leader who speaks the local language to find a way out.

They knew that their leader wasn't a good person, but they had no other choice.

"Damn it...Isn't this supposed to be paradise? Why do I feel like it's not much better than our country! There are homeless people everywhere on the streets..." someone muttered to themselves.

The person next to him turned and glanced at him, and everyone was actually thinking the same thing.

They thought they had luckily boarded a ship to heaven, but when they arrived, they discovered that they had simply fallen from one hell to another.

For the past few months, they have been working illegally, day and night, just to earn enough to make ends meet.

Working 16 hours a day is the norm for them, and their daily wage is a meager 120 yuan. After deducting accommodation and food expenses, they basically have nothing left.

They could certainly sleep outside, like the homeless. But the problem is that if they sleep outside, they'll definitely be harassed by local gangs.

It's hard to say what will happen then. After all, homeless people disappear from these streets every day. Nobody cares about them, and nobody wants to be like them.

At the very end of the crowd, a calm-looking middle-aged man stood quietly.

The person in front of him looked at him with a suspicious expression.

“Brother…you’re a new face. I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” the questioner asked in a foreign language.

“Yes, I haven’t seen you before either,” the middle-aged man replied calmly. He was speaking a foreign language, and quite fluently at that.

"Hehe..." Hearing this fluent hometown dialect, the questioner no longer had any doubts.

The middle-aged man glanced at the crowd ahead, his eyes somewhat unfocused. He was none other than Dio, who had come here to undergo training under a different face.

Dio put some thought into choosing the training location. He knew that an overly mild setting wouldn't allow him to further solidify his understanding of the truth.

He needed to find an environment with a certain degree of danger, and this construction site was his choice.

As everyone waited, two strong foremen emerged from the construction site.

They glanced at the illegal immigrants from abroad, a hint of disgust flashing in their eyes.

The slums were already chaotic enough, but these people made things even worse. If it weren't for the ruthlessness of the local gangs, these people would probably be out of control.

The foremen were actually unwilling to offer them jobs, but they were forced to give up some valuable opportunities to these refugees because their gang leaders had made a deal with the leaders of the illegal immigrants.

They would select some strong young and middle-aged men to work on the construction site, which would tire out the refugees and prevent them from causing trouble.

Moreover, it can provide them with food and clothing, thus depriving them of any reason to resist.

Anyway, since those people got jobs, the slums have finally returned to their former "stability".

The two foremen held up their fingers and counted the number of refugees present.

After talking for a while, the two divided up the work groups for the day.

"The 15 in the front row, come with me; the rest of you, follow him..."

Dior was assigned to Foreman No. 2.

Foreman No. 2 waved at them and then walked away impatiently. Dior and the others silently followed; another day of hard work was about to begin.

"A bunch of useless trash, and we have to support them!" Foreman No. 2 cursed, spewing profanities all the way.

But he was speaking his native language, so although people knew he was swearing, they didn't react much because they couldn't understand him at all.

But when these words reached Dior's ears, who could understand them, they became knives piercing his heart.

Various thoughts began to arise in response to this situation.

"He's insulting you! Hit him!"

"You're being incredibly stupid! Why don't you enjoy your life instead of coming here to suffer? You're a lunatic!"

"xxxx"

And the urge to swear kept creeping into my head.

Dior silently observed these thoughts, watching them grow out of thin air and then disappear.

It seems that verbal stimulation is still unable to distract Dior.

After cursing all the way, the foreman finally led them to the work site.

The foreman had the local workers distribute some shovels to the refugees.

The local workers weren't exactly friendly towards the refugees either, since their arrival had driven down their wages. It was impossible for the local workers not to feel resentful.

Therefore, they often make things difficult for these refugees, forcing them to do the hardest and most tiring jobs. Even if some of these refugees are skilled workers, they will not be employed; the locals will not give them a chance.

The refugees' job was relatively simple: to use shovels to shovel stones or sand from the ground onto wheelbarrows.

Those pushing wheelbarrows were locals; they were like overseers, supervising those shoveling soil to prevent them from slacking off.

"They're moving so slowly! These people should die in their own country!"

"Exactly! My wages have decreased since they came! Thirty yuan less every day, how much less is that in a month? We're the ones who pay their wages! Damn it! These people don't even know how to be grateful! They're always so slow and dawdling at their work!"

"You lowly commoner! Bah!"

"..."

Dio listened to the language of these people as he shoveled dirt.

"This is the distinction between self and others. In fact, the world is originally one, but the false self obscures us, causing us to create the distinction between self and others."

"The mutual harm between people is like tearing your right hand with your left; the pain will keep being passed on in this system and will never stop."

Dior silently pondered.

As the saying goes, revenge only breeds more revenge. If Dio hadn't grasped the crux of the matter and instead silently endured these insults, his anger would have only intensified.

Because patience doesn't solve problems; it only suppresses emotions deeper into the subconscious.

But this emotion doesn't disappear; instead, it can erupt at certain times and hurt others.

But now Dio understands the truth of this world, so when anger rises again, Dio will not follow it. It is just a thought, an illusion, and when it dissipates, the anger also leaves.

Dio's mind was clear; no seeds of anger had been sown within it, so it would not erupt at some point in the future.

From this perspective, Dio essentially severed a cause and effect. The entire cycle of harm came to an end with him.

"Emotions should not be suppressed, but rather resolved."

"This world is a manifestation of the heart. Everyone I meet is a reflection of my heart. There is no difference between self and others; we all come from the same heart."

“These people are no different from me; they are all manifestations of my mind. They are all me.”

Just as Dio was pondering, a flash of inspiration struck him. Before he could even examine this inspiration closely...

He was pushed, and Dio could have steadied himself, but a flash of inspiration reminded him not to.

Dio then fell to the ground in the direction of the force.

At that moment, a small cart happened to pass by the spot where he fell.

As the wheel rolled over, three fingernails on Dior's right hand were crushed by it.

The excruciating pain instantly ignited a furious rage within Dio.

But Dior had experienced this kind of anger many times before. The most recent time was when the "little killer" on the subway sprayed water on his pants.

Instead of calming his anger, he let it run rampant, which led to a series of tragedies.

This time, however, he did not follow the anger, and in an instant, Dio's heart returned to calm.

Only the pain in his fingertips continued to burn his heart.

Dio got up from the ground, and the people around him silently watched him.

The local worker pushing the cart showed no remorse whatsoever; instead, his eyes held a defiant glint—he was doing it on purpose.

He could have stopped when Dio fell. But he didn't; instead, he deliberately pushed the cart after him.

Everyone around Dio was watching, wondering how he would react.

However, Dio didn't react in any particular way; he picked up the shovel and continued shoveling dirt.

This disappointed those around them, who were actually looking forward to a fight.

"What a coward..."

"A coward..."

"..."

The crowd began to whisper among themselves. The refugees looked at Dio with disdain, while the locals watched him with great amusement.

However, Dio paid no attention to these things, because he was observing the flash of inspiration in his mind.

That glimmer of light contained some memories, and Dio's expression was somewhat complicated after reading it.

Is this how fate unfolds?

When Dio was wanted by Melina in the royal city, he cruelly murdered three poor bastards in order to escape.

He hid in a cart transporting the mixed-race corpse, thus evading the search by the royal guards, and eventually escaped.

He's losing three fingernails now, actually to atone for the harm he caused those three bastards.

Yesterday's cause, today's effect. If Dio had managed to steady himself and hadn't fallen, this cause would still have been suppressed, waiting to erupt at some future moment.

But Dio obediently fell down, thus ending the matter.

He killed three brethren, but only lost three fingernails. Theoretically, he should have repaid them with three lives. This punishment is actually quite lenient.

Therefore, Dio felt no resentment or anger at this moment. He knew the whole story and knew that this was suffering he had to endure.

His fingertips were still stinging, and Dior silently observed this sensation.

This feeling is driving my false self crazy, making it wail and act wildly.

But Dio knew that it was all an illusion, that the fake me was fake, and therefore the pain he felt was also fake.

Or rather, that pain doesn't have a real object of its effect, but if Dio really follows the various thoughts generated by his false self, then these feelings of pain will become incredibly real.

"This pain has no object; it is just a feeling. It is no different from any other feeling, and there is nothing special about it."

"The right thing to do is to experience this feeling with my heart and resolve the karma I have created."

After grasping this level, the number of inspirations in Dio's mind began to surge.

They didn't suddenly increase in number; rather, Dior was able to clearly recognize them from the vast number of thoughts.