The oppressive atmosphere deep within the mine was suffocating, silently enveloping every corner of the tunnels.
The flickering light of dim torches danced on the rock walls, illuminating faces that were numb and dull.
Chen Ping blended in among them, mechanically raising and lowering his pickaxe.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Each strike only chipped away fingernail-sized fragments of rock.
The hard rock walls were disheartening, and the tremendous recoil sent waves of numbness through Chen Ping’s arms, nearly robbing them of all sensation.
Sweat, mixed with thick dust, carved muddy streaks across his face and neck.
One month.
Just one month.
Chen Ping took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
His body had undergone a terrifying change.
The physical strength he had once cultivated through training was gradually fading away under the ravages of the Ore Toxin.
Now, swinging the pickaxe had become laborious. The soreness in his arms was no longer mere fatigue, but a heavy sense of weakness.
A feeling of tightness in his chest followed him like a shadow; even when resting in the shack, it felt like a cold, damp stone was constantly pressing down on him.
His skin, once firm and healthy from labor and practicing the Vitality Technique, now bore a layer of ashen pallor.
Upon closer inspection, even the blood vessels beneath his skin seemed to have lost their vibrant color, taking on a dull, decaying hue.
Occasional fits of violent coughing would make his vision darken, forcing him to lean against the cold rock wall to steady himself.
The six hundred jin of physical strength he once possessed…
Now…
He probably struggled to muster even four hundred jin.
The Ore Toxin clung to him like maggots to bone, silently eating away at his strength.
Death had never felt so tangibly suspended above his head.
Six months? Perhaps even less.
He would die.
He had this premonition.
But he didn’t want to die.
With the Jade Pendant space, Chen Ping couldn’t bear to die just like that.
For the past month, he hadn’t slacked off for a single moment.
During the day, in Tunnel Bing-Seven, he worked like a silent ox, focusing solely on swinging the pickaxe, chiseling, and moving broken rock.
His pick was badly worn. The skin between his thumbs and forefingers had split, scabbed over, and split again.
Chen Ping became the most inconspicuous among them—covered in grime, his eyes weary.
During brief rest periods, he no longer just sat panting in a corner.
He would shift his position, seemingly casually moving closer to those old miners who whispered among themselves.
He asked cautiously, letting his questions show a newcomer’s confusion and despair about the future.
He repeatedly sought confirmation on one thing: whether Purifying Grass truly had that effect.
And under what conditions Purifying Grass seeds could actually sprout!
“Purifying Grass… is it really that effective?”
“Seeds? Planting them yourself? Can that work?”
Information came to him like broken shards of pottery, which he painstakingly gathered piece by piece.
Purifying Grass was the medicinal herb the sect’s Medicine Hall supplied to treat Ore Toxin. One mature plant could remove most of the poison and even strengthen the body.
But its price was exorbitant—five Spirit Crystals.
This price… he confirmed it was indeed that much.
As for seeds, they were relatively much cheaper—one Spirit Crystal per seed.
Regarding their source, everyone pointed to one of several “Immortals” stationed near the mine entrance—a short, thin Immortal with shrewd and calculating eyes.
It was said that miners had tried buying seeds to cultivate themselves before, but none succeeded.
Spiritual herbs required spiritual soil and sustained nourishment from Qi. Ordinary soil was utterly useless; the seeds would ultimately just become nutrients for the earth.
For the short, thin cultivator, selling seeds seemed to be another way of squeezing money from miners.
A bit like tricking fools.
Finally, payday arrived.
In a small shed near the mine exit, the Manager flipped through a thick ledger.
Behind Chen Ping’s name was recorded the weight of ore he had mined in one month: two hundred thirteen jin.
Exceeding the quota of one hundred jin meant the excess was converted proportionally.
“Bing-Seven Tunnel. Chen Ping.”
The Manager spoke without looking up, his voice flat and emotionless.
“Chen Ping, Tunnel Bing-Seven. One hundred jin of ore: quota met, two Spirit Crystals. An extra one hundred and thirteen jin: one Spirit Crystal. Three Spirit Crystals in all.”
Three fingernail-sized crystals with a faint blue luster were tossed onto the dusty wooden table before Chen Ping.
This was everything he had earned—a month’s worth of blood and sweat, paid for by his body being eroded by toxic gas.
Without a moment’s hesitation, his rough hand immediately clenched them tightly in his palm. The sharp edges pressed against his calloused skin.
Three Spirit Crystals. One could be exchanged for ten ordinary gold coins—enough for an average family to live on for several years.
But here, gold coins couldn’t buy life.
He didn’t return to the shack but headed straight toward the area near the mine entrance.
Several cultivators in gray-blue robes stood or sat around, watching miners come and go with indifferent expressions.
Chen Ping’s gaze locked onto that short, thin figure.
He was leaning against a large rock, idly playing with a small piece of ore while scanning the miners with his eyes. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Today was payday; he’d have business again!
Chen Ping drew a deep breath and suppressed the tightness in his chest. He tried to appear humble, with a little of the urgency of a man who had nowhere else to turn.
He stopped a few steps away from the short cultivator and bowed slightly, his voice hoarse.
“Immortal Master…”
The short cultivator lifted an eyelid slightly and glanced at him but said nothing.
“I… I would like to buy Purifying Grass seeds, sir.”
Chen Ping spoke between breaths, his voice urgent.
“I heard… you have them, Immortal Master.”
Only then did the short cultivator look directly at Chen Ping. His eyes swept over Chen Ping’s ashen complexion and gaunt frame. The corner of his mouth seemed to twitch—whether in mockery or understanding was unclear.
“Purifying Grass seeds?”
His voice was somewhat shrill.
“One Spirit Crystal per seed. They won’t grow in ordinary soil. Are you sure about this?”
“I… I understand, sir.”
Chen Ping lowered his head and gingerly picked out one Spirit Crystal from his tightly clenched palm. He held it out respectfully with both hands.
“Please let me have a seed, Immortal Master. I would like to try!”
The short cultivator took the Spirit Crystal and rolled it between his fingers, feeling the faint Qi inside. Only then did he leisurely search a small, inconspicuous gray cloth pouch at his waist.
After a breath…
He pinched out a seed slightly larger than a sesame seed—dark brown with strange dull patterns on its surface—and casually tossed it onto Chen Ping’s outstretched palm.
The seed felt light as air; it barely had any weight at all.
Chen Ping’s heart leaped. He held back his excitement and took out a second Spirit Crystal.
“Immortal Master… I… I would like to buy two more.”
His voice trembled with desperation born from staking everything on this gamble.
A flicker of genuine surprise passed through the short cultivator’s eyes before turning into amusement, as if watching an entertaining spectacle unfold before him.
Once again, he produced two identical seeds which he tossed toward Chen Ping while pocketing all three Spirit Crystals without another glance—as if completing some trivial transaction.
“Suit yourself. At least you’ll give up the idea once you’ve tried. If they don’t grow, don’t say I didn’t warn you…”
He muttered under his breath before returning his attention back toward playing with that piece of ore.
Chen Ping tightly clenched those three seeds within his palm, as if grasping three faint glimmers of hope.
He turned and hurried away, his heart pounding.
Three Spirit Crystals—everything he had—had bought him three faint hopes.
However much gold he had, it was worthless scrap in the face of Ore Toxin.
Only these Purifying Grass seeds, planted within the Jade Pendant space upon the Black Earth, held any sliver of hope for survival.