Bombarding Cultivators with Cluster Artillery
Chapter 1070 - 1039: Servants Also Need to Compete to Serve

Magical Stone Minor Realm, Mountain Suppressing Sect.

Within the dimly lit mine, a Qi Practitioner of the Seventh Level of Qi Practicing named Pillar was busily chiseling a second-order Purple Stone ore the size of a human head.

He held a hammer in one hand and a chisel in the other, and streams of blood-colored mana emerged from his meridians, flaking off pieces of grey-white stone.

Unbeknownst to him, with each strike of his chisel, small indiscernible amounts of his life energy and essence blood were seeping away, infusing into the Purple Stone ore and undertaking a process similar to refinement, striving to elevate the quality of the ore as much as possible.

Pillar's chiseling continued for several hours.

Ding!

Accompanied by a crisp sound, a thumb-sized gem emerged, vaguely tinged with blood and radiating light.

This was the finished Purple Jade Stone.

"There, Pillar bro finished half an hour early today."

Around him, dozens of other Human Race Qi Practitioners were also busy, some with envious expressions.

"Pillar bro has been doing this for fifteen years, right?"

"Another five years, and he can go home to get married and have children, marrying thirty-six wives; what limitless joy awaits him! From then on, Pillar bro will live a blessed life..."

"We still have work to do, to gather rune grass, we're destined for toil, not like the Sect Master who can rest only in death..."

"That's true, gathering rune grass is just about picking and grabbing, nothing compared to mining..."

Amid the tinkling of chiseling, the surrounding Qi Practitioners chatted, discussing various topics as many seemed to regain some strength and vitality from such casual conversations.

"It's still early."

Pillar wore a simple-minded expression.

He carefully put away the Purple Jade Stone and looked around cautiously, guarding it as he walked towards the Sect's main hall.

It was strictly forbidden within the Sect to fight among the same race, violators would be executed, so there were few who dared to steal others' ores.

But even though they were few, they existed.

Pillar had heard of such thefts before, where the thief was dealt with, but the miner also died, which was indeed regrettable.

Pillar walked through various mines, reaching the entrance, passing by some Spirit Fields and Spiritual Medicine Gardens.

On the way, he encountered many cultivators, both male and female, including some children of the Foundation Establishment Elders.

But everyone was the same, all toiling away; some tended to spiritual medicines, others handled Spiritual Fish, and some were tilling the soil. Everyone on the road was in a hurry, none idle.

'The life of a Foundation Establishment Elder's child is good...'

Pillar enviously glanced at those tending to the spiritual medicines in the Spiritual Medicine Garden, quickly lowering his head when someone looked his way.

These Spirit Farmers had it much better than the miners.

Most miners would die before the age of forty, only a very few with exceptional talents survived, got married, and had children.

He had felt this once, his body terribly weak, nearly thinking he was going to die.

Fortunately, he made it through.

These children of the Foundation Establishment Elders, however, lived differently; they didn't have to stay in the mines all day, they lived above ground in sunlight, their lives were easier, and each of them could live to at least sixty years old, with some even exceeding that age.

Compared to them, the miners were like heaven and earth.

Pillar finally arrived at the Sect's main hall after several turns.

The main hall of the Sect was actually a half-mountain cave transformed from a mine, with neatly laid out Greenstone and decorated with some valueless Night Pearls.

Such arrangement, in the Northern Plains, would perhaps be disdainfully inadequate for a Martial Arts School's Ancestor Temple.

'The oppression and exploitation of the Magic Stone Clan are truly extreme...'

Jiang Ding withdrew a strand of his Divine Consciousness from the Soul Void Realm, silently observing this Sect, assessing the living conditions of the Human Race in this world.

Ordinarily, he would have chosen a solitary place to bury himself.

That way, there would be no cause and effect, no interaction with people, which would be the safest option.

However, the Soul Hiding Divine Technique of the Shadow Demon Abyss had other considerations, concealing oneself using a mortal or cultivator's Divine Soul, achieving even greater concealment, which might not even be detected by an Upper-Level Cultivator's Divine Sense Scanning.

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This is the crystallization of the wisdom of Immortal Concealment and Ambush within the Shadow Demon Abyss.

Objectively speaking, both the wilderness and places where people gather are the same for high-level cultivators; there's nowhere that is truly more hidden, even if buried in the ground.

A place where people congregate has another advantage, the Divine Souls' aura is chaotic and varied, which paradoxically is a boon for concealment.

Pillar looked at the sect's grand hall adorned with Night Pearls with awe and cautiously entered. Upon seeing the two elders inside, he grew even more nervous and respectfully bowed, saying, "Uncle-Master, this disciple is here to submit today's Purple Jade."

"Good."

One of the gray-robed elders, who was sitting cross-legged, nodded slightly and said nothing more.

Pillar, not daring to disturb, placed down the Purple Jade and carefully backed away.

After he left, the gray-robed elder waved his hand to pull the Purple Jade towards him, placed it on a large stone jar nearby, took out a bamboo slip, and recorded nine merits for 'Pillar 279'.

"Nine merits?"

One of the blue-robed Foundation-building was slightly surprised, "According to routine, shouldn't it be five merits? One part taken by the sect, and the rest split between us, with you and me each taking a share?"

"Does this lad have a past with you?"

"Or has pity moved you? It's futile; these mining disciples who cultivate the 'Blood Burning Spirit Technique,' even being at the Seventh Level of Qi Practicing at such a young age, living past fifty is their limit; truly no need for wastage."

"Better for the Spirit Stones to stay, for our cultivation; the stronger we are, the stronger the sect."

He advised his kind-hearted old friend.

"Not so."

The gray-robed Foundation-building sighed softly,

"This is the Sect Master's command."

"Recently, the oppression on the mining disciples below has been too severe; it's almost reached its limit. We have to ease up slightly, otherwise, they might begin to harbor thoughts of death."

"If too many mining disciples die, we can't produce enough ores, and we too, will be in danger."

"We must... occasionally give them some hope."

The blue-robed Foundation-building stayed silent.

"They have hope... What about our hopes?"

He asked.

"We also cultivate the 'Blood Burning Spirit Technique', we cultivate much faster, even with Foundation Establishment, our lifespan does not exceed a century, and there's no rest even a single day."

"I... do not know."

The gray-robed Foundation-building shook his head.

"It would be good if we could become direct disciples of the Sect Master."

After a moment of silence, they each took a piece of ore and, with hammer and chisel, started to carve meticulously, using a special technique that not only stripped the ore but also allowed their Mana and essence blood to seep into it, refining and enhancing the ore's quality.

This higher-quality ore required Foundation-building cultivators to carve and refine; no one else could do it for them.

"Direct disciples of the Sect Master..."

Unknown to these two, at the top of the mountain peak, an old man with white temples and a face full of wrinkles was also striking a third-grade ore, refining it with Mana and his life energy. Hearing their words, he scoffed at himself.

"What's the difference being a disciple of the Sect Master?"

"The Sect Master is also a miner."

Firm Stone True Person looked at the hammer and chisel in his hands, these treasures that had accompanied him for over two hundred years.

He was lost in thought for a long time.

Then,

Ding ding ding ding…

The sound of chipping stone that had continued for who knows how many years again started, numb and stiff.

Even this sound, who knows how much longer it could continue.

Because even such a life could not last; other mighty races coveted this place, even though it was so barren.

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