"Tsk, tsk, it seems I've been too kind to you. Someone's trying to pull a fast one, huh?"

The guard spoke and, amid the laughter of his companions, made his way through the crowd to stand in front of the bald strongman.

Methodically, he took out a brand-new collar magic artifact and placed it on the strongman. Then he forcibly opened his mouth and stuffed an elixir inside. After that, he grabbed the back of the bald strongman's neck and moved him aside, tying him to the Flying Boat's mast, while the dagger hung by the strongman's side.

Under the influence of the elixir, the strongman's wounds healed quickly. Yet every time this happened, the dagger would automatically activate, slashing open a dozen wounds again, which then healed once more.

Under the scorching sun, a lot of sweat broke out on the strongman's body, occasionally flowing into his wounds, causing unbearable stinging pain. The cycle repeated over and over, torturing the strongman to a degree that made life feel worse than death.

The monk prisoners witnessing this scene all felt a pang of sympathy.

"You see his fate… I advise all of you to behave yourselves; otherwise, there's still room on that mast!" the guard snorted coldly, warning them.

Everyone fell silent, and the mortal prisoners behind them lowered their heads, not even daring to take another look.

Zuo Qinghui coldly observed everything, aware that this was just a trap set by the guards to lure out the ring leaders and make an example of them.

The Flying Boat continued its journey, passing over the Desert from above. After an unknown period, they suddenly saw massive plumes of black smoke in the distance, prompting the Flying Boat to stop and slowly descend to the ground.

The guards shouted orders, compelling the prisoners to get up and disembark from the Flying Boat one by one.

At the same time, they released the now nearly lifeless bald strongman from the mast, fed him another unidentified elixir, and then called over two prisoners to help drag the strongman away.

What appeared in front of everyone was a bronze gate towering over a sand dune. As a guard approached, the gate rumbled open, and two Foundation Establishment cultivators in black robes emerged.

One of the cultivators, a dark-skinned middle-aged man, scanned the prisoners with collars and frowned, complaining to the unicorn-haired man walking in front.

"You know, Brother Fang, we're short of cultivators this time. Elder Hai is likely not going to be pleased," he said.

"We ran into some trouble along the way; these will have to do for now," the unicorn-haired man replied gruffly.

"You might want to save that explanation for Elder Hai. Someone from the Sect came recently, saying something unforeseen arose in the Western Region, and now they urgently need more Flame Scale Ore for war preparations. The monthly quota has increased, we're short-staffed at the mines, and the old man just threw a fit over this," the dark-skinned man explained.

Zuo Qinghui, standing at the rear of the crowd, listened to their conversation, pondering something.

Flame Scale Ore is a special type of spirit ore, resembling fish scales and containing an immense amount of disordered Fire Element Spirit Qi, making it unsuitable for refining regular magic tools. However, it can be used to refine a special type of magic artifact called "Burning Fire," similar to the Heart-splitting Bomb. Although weaker in power, capable of generating a sea of fire equivalent to a blow from an Early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator when thrown, its refinery technique is not secretive, and all Major Sects in the Central Plains keep some in reserve for emergencies.

However, mining Flame Scale Ore is particularly troublesome as slight mishandling can lead to explosions, and the Fire Element Spirit Qi within it can cause substantial harm to the miners' bodies. Mortals simply cannot endure it, thus requiring cultivators to mine it.

As for the captured mortals, they were allocated to mine other ores in the minefield.

Yuan Ming's true body had previously used incense to possess Wulu and found that although he was in the mine, he did not exhibit any signs of oddity. Yuan Ming did not know whether Wulu was executing a task or truly trapped, but he noted that both the trapped mortals and cultivators lived a gloomy and hopeless existence, all praying for their escape.

For him, if he could do something to win their trust, it would serve as an excellent way to gather Desire Power and aid his practice of the Moonlight Technique.

In front of the bronze gate, the dark-skinned man quickly assessed the number of cultivators and mortals delivered, then summoned a few Qi Refinement guards to lead them inside, while the unicorn-haired man and others stayed outside.

As they entered the passage behind the bronze gate, several Qi Refinement Guiyuan Sect disciples guarded and patrolled the area. At the exit, a few enormous Green Wolves, each about three meters tall and wearing special leather armor with iron armor protecting their heads and necks, were tied up. They looked formidably guarded.

As the people approached, the Green Wolves bared their teeth and growled from deep within their throats, crouching with tensed muscles, ready to attack at any moment. The monk prisoners were still manageable, but the color drained from the faces of the mortals, many of whom had trembling legs.

After some reassuring from the nearby guard disciples, the Green Wolves withdrew their menacing demeanor.

Zuo Qinghui and others followed the guard through the passage until the scene abruptly opened up before them, revealing an exceptionally vast underground cavern.

Directly near the passage neatly arranged were densely packed stone low-rise buildings, frequented by cultivators in black robes; closer to the center, there stood the only four-story building, fashioned in an ancient and majestic design, with its topmost level constructed like an open pavilion, offering a clear overview of the entire cavern.

Zuo Qinghui's Divine Soul stirred, faintly sensing someone gazing down from that tall building at this very moment, but when he looked up, he saw no one.

The guarding disciple didn't linger long in this area; they soon brought a group of prisoners to an open field on the other end of the cavern.

This was an immensely large mining site; Zuo Qinghui scanned around and saw that the entire site was shaped like a vast fan, sloping downward steeply like a sharp hillside. Countless tents made of cloth leaned against the earthen and stony slopes, tightly crammed together in groups of thousands—conditions which were even worse than those at Black Earth Square, apparently serving as the dwellings for the prisoners.

On the opposite rock face, one could spot variously sized mine entrances resembling a giant wasp's nest; within, people stripped to the waist wielded hammers, smashing the iron wedges lodged in the rock seams, breaking the colossal rocks into smaller pieces.

At the bottommost exit, equally miserable-looking mine slaves carried baskets of pale yellow ore on their backs, emerging from within.

These individuals dumped the ore they carried onto the waiting transport carts at the tunnel's entrance, without pausing for a moment before turning back into the mine.

The carts filled with ore were then pulled by another group of emaciated mine slaves to several stone buildings on the other end of the open area.

One of these buildings had a tall, dark chimney that connected directly to the cave's ceiling, presumably the place where the ores were smelted, and the smelting smoke was naturally expelled outside the cavern.

Throughout the mine, observation platforms were built at regular intervals, each manned by two to three Guiyuan Sect disciples overseeing all corners of the mining site.

Not only were there guard teams moving back and forth across different areas, but also supervising figures wielding long whips, patrolling around; upon spotting any mine slave who slightly relaxed, they would lash out with their whips.

Those whips, studded with spikes, would tear through the clothing to rend skin and muscle, blurring blood and flesh. Anyone who dared to cry out would certainly face even harsher punishment.

Beyond these mortal mine slaves, the surveillance over the monk slaves was even more stringent.

These monks, collared at the neck, were grouped in tens; the front eight wielded tools resembling nail rakes while the last two carried baskets containing palm-sized, scale-like fiery red ores.

Behind them, each group was closely monitored by a cultivator supervisor in a pale gray robe, constantly keeping an eye on them to prevent any surreptitious acts.

Under the guidance of the horned man and others, Zuo Qinghui and other imprisoned cultivators were separately allotted and brought into a barrack, where a cultivator seated inside registered their names one by one before ordering them to line up.

The cultivator then clasped his hands in an incantation, pointing at his forehead. The center of his brow split open instantly, releasing a snake-eyed pupil that shot out a purple beam, sweeping over Zuo Qinghui and the others.

Soon, the purple light vanished, and the snake pupil retreated back into the flesh, while he turned to the side guard and said,

"All verified, they aren't hiding any storage magic tools. The mine is short on workers; skip sending this batch to Elder Hai. Let me see... Zhu Si, Shen Mangxing, and Chen Shang all lack manpower. I'll send a message to them now, telling them to come back from the mine to pick up their people."

Shortly, the three individuals the cultivator mentioned entered from outside. They exchanged courtesies with the cultivator in the room, then they cast evaluating glances at Zuo Qinghui and the others, looking as if they were selecting goods.

"Junior Sister Zhu needs a lot of hands, and her men tend to die quickly; let's give her these three robust ones," a male cultivator with a mustache and a sleazy face suggested.

"Hehe, it's better to give these few to Senior Brother Chen. After all, I've heard that you drove one of yours mad; the mine lacks hands now, you should hold back a bit more. If you fail to meet the quota, it won't be easy to explain to Elder Hai," retorted Zhu Si, a woman with a harsh face.

Though both appeared to be deferential, in reality, they both wanted the more robust men for themselves; only the middle-aged man with a naive face remained silent, watching the verbal spar between the two.

Ultimately, Zhu Si and Chen Shang divided the more physically strong cultivators among themselves, leaving the few who were either frail or aged to the silent Shen Mangxing.

Zuo Qinghui, having changed his appearance but still bearing the physique of an older man, fell into the category undesirable to Zhu Si and Chen Shang, and was naturally assigned to Shen Mangxing as well.

Thus, Zuo Qinghui and two other frail cultivators followed Shen Mangxing out of the barrack, only to see six collared cultivators, both men and women, who were either elderly or frail in stature, similarly awaiting outside.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.