Eastern Continent, Ninth Empire, Linta Region, on the Wilderness.
In the harsh and cruel December winter, the cold relentlessly invaded the Linta Region, the southernmost territory of the Empire, as it always did.
The biting cold wind howled across the wilderness clad in white snow. Sparse, withered, and yellowed weeds surrendered early, covered in frost, offering their loyalty to the winter, bowing and swaying in the cold dawn.
Only a few tall trees, though withered and barren, stood proudly in the wilderness, looking down on the snow-covered earth, showcasing their stubbornness, eagerly awaiting the arrival of spring.
In a corner of the wilderness, a mine.
A road made of gravel and black ash stretched out from the open-pit mine.
Scattered everywhere were dark ores, staining the pure white snow.
Simple wooden houses were sparsely scattered around the mine.
Guards of the Ma Consortium, holding firearms, smoked idly at the makeshift sentry posts.
Inside the mine.
On a polished stone, a few withered yellow herbs were laid out to dry.
A calloused hand picked them up, examining the veins and colors of the herbs under the weak winter sunlight.
The young man holding the herbs was about sixteen or seventeen, wrapped in a thick fur coat, carrying a backpack, with a face smudged with gray and black, reddened by the cold.
But from his sculpted, chiseled features, it was easy to tell he was quite a handsome young man.
As he looked at the herbs, his eyes grew brighter, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously lifted.
Du Xiu carefully placed the herbs into a wooden box he carried with him.
"Young Sir, are you going down the mine today?"
A voice called out.
Du Xiu turned to look. Not far away, a mine guard, holding a firearm, wearing gloves and a custom coat from the Ma Consortium, waved at him.
"Yes, I'm going down, I'll be right there!"
Du Xiu placed the wooden box containing the herbs into his backpack and strode toward the mine entrance.
At the mine entrance, people were crowded together.
The bell signaling the gathering of mine slaves was piercingly loud.
Forty or fifty mine slaves, wearing worn-out coats stained with black ash, cheap snow boots, carrying wooden baskets, and holding spades, gathered from all directions, their eyes vacant, converging at the mine entrance.
As soon as Du Xiu arrived at the gathering place, he heard curses.
"Move faster, you bunch of Empire failures, worthless slaves."
"Who are you showing those deadpan faces to? Damn stupid pigs!"
"Quick, quick, quick, get moving! Don't be as slow as a damn old lady with bound feet!"
"It's eight o'clock now. By six in the evening, anyone who hasn't found their quota of ore, I swear, this will be their last winter! Now, take your lunch and get into the mine!"
The guards belonging to the Ma Consortium, holding clubs or whips, shouted harshly with fierce expressions.
In the distance, a guard on a high point smoked, exhaling clouds, with a heavy machine gun aimed at the mine slaves.
Du Xiu withdrew his gaze, standing obediently at the back of the crowd.
Twenty years ago, following the failure of the thirteenth expedition to the Western Continent, the elite corps built with the Empire's full might was crushed under the Church's forces. The Ninth Empire, this millennia-old empire, was on the brink of losing control over its territories.
The vast lands of the Empire, due to geographical, cultural, climate, and ethnic factors, were extremely exclusive and independent from each other.
Local indigenous forces entrenched themselves, developing like snowballs into local giants—consortiums.
Hospitals, schools, enterprises, energy, cemeteries...
For ordinary people, from birth to death, they couldn't escape the local consortium.
A serious illness could destroy an ordinary family, leaving them with huge debts, forcing them to serve the consortium, becoming its minions if capable, or slaves if not.
The consortiums controlled all economic lifelines in the region, with only the Empire's tax department able to challenge them.
Unfortunately, those tax officials, like the contemporary emperor, who was like a lion with its teeth pulled and spine broken after the expedition failure, were only interested in collecting taxes, always turning a deaf ear to livelihood issues.
This led to the consortiums becoming increasingly arrogant in recent years.
The consortiums, seeking maximum profit, to some extent, spurred the Empire's mechanization process, but this didn't mean they would stop exploiting the lower-class people.
Just like this mine in front of them, a variety of precision machinery had already extracted the resources from this mine.
Yet, consortium managers still deployed a large number of slaves for the final exploration of this mine.
To obtain those insignificant profits left in the corners.
After all, to them, it was just a matter of using some cheap, worthless slaves.
A piece of ore was worth more than a slave, wasn't it?
With the Ma Consortium guards' insults and beatings, the originally numb crowd began to stir.
Not a rebellious stir, but a jostling to push others aside, rushing into the mine.
Going in first meant reaching deeper into the mine sooner, making it easier to find a few pieces of ore missed by the machines.
This meant surviving another day without being beaten.
As for the future... who cared!
"Move your damn asses, you bunch of trash... Sorry, Young Sir, the trash doesn't include you, you don't have to go down."
The guard, full of emotion and constantly roaring, saw Du Xiu waiting in line to enter the mine and gave an apologetic smile.
Slaves were lowly, worthless, and could be killed at will, but this perception didn't include Du Xiu.
Though he was also a slave.
But he was a valuable slave.
An apothecary.
Yes, an apothecary. Fing hell, who knew how such an elite from the Empire ended up in a place like this?
The young guard pursed his lips.
Because of Du Xiu's presence, his words cursing the slaves were much more restrained.
The consortium's exploitation and persecution of worthless lower-class people were indeed unspeakable.
But their respect for valuable talent was undeniable.
Those consortiums that only extracted the remaining value of the people without any bottom line or principle had long been buried in the dust of history.
"Thank you for your kindness, but after all, I am a mine slave, going down the mine is my duty."
Du Xiu squinted and smiled.
A very sincere, simple smile.
Beside him, a boy of similar age squeezed next to Du Xiu, patting his shoulder.
The two exchanged a glance and joined the other mine slaves, walking toward the mine together.