With a weary sigh, Junior Edina pushed herself up from her bed. The morning air, cold and crisp, seeped through the wooden walls of her modest room. She rubbed her eyes, glancing towards the bedside table where Senior Edina’s letter awaited her, as it always did. The carefully folded parchment had become a familiar companion, one she eagerly read every morning.
As her eyes scanned the neat, precise handwriting, she found herself lingering over a particular line. Senior Edina had written:
"There’s been a lot going on, so I forgot to mention this earlier. I think it’s time for you to start training and practicing so you can defend yourself. I’ve written a tome filled with all my tricks and techniques. Have Chaung Chi help you with the practice. Even if you can’t cultivate, you can still defend yourself the way I do."
Junior Edina’s heart quickened. Her mind flashed back to the stories she had heard during the aftermath of the kidnapping. Senior Edina had been instrumental in helping Jin and Wei escape, overcoming immense odds despite her inability to cultivate and the burden of her disability. The sheer audacity and strength of Senior Edina’s actions filled Junior Edina with admiration. To think that someone with only one functional leg could accomplish feats that seasoned cultivators struggled with was nothing short of inspiring. It made her believe, for the first time, that perhaps she, too, could carve out her own strength in a world that seemed determined to sideline her.
Her gaze shifted back to the letter, and she read on. Senior Edina’s advice was practical as always, urging her to take the next month slowly. Winter had arrived, blanketing the land in icy stillness, and work across the regions had slowed to a crawl. Other factions would undoubtedly do the same, as little could be achieved during these frigid months. It was a time for planning, preparation, and introspection—a time she could use to build herself up.
“Lian Hua!” Junior Edina called, her voice firm despite the lingering morning grogginess. She reached for her cane as she stood, steadying herself with practiced ease. The sliding door opened, and Lian Hua stepped inside, her presence as dependable as the sun rising over the Dongu Region. The maid moved quickly to assist her mistress, helping her prepare for the day ahead.
Honisa Region in the Gunghua Province, controlled by the Mu Family of Blazing Dawn Sect,
Far from Junior Edina’s quarters, in the heart of the Honisa Region of Gunghua Province, controlled by the Mu Family of the Blazing Dawn Sect, lay the village that seemed, at first glance, to defy its surroundings. Nestled deep within the forest, the settlement appeared to be an oasis of luxury. The houses were constructed from fine wood and stone, their roofs adorned with intricate carvings. Expensive silks adorned the villagers, and the tantalizing aroma of rich foods wafted through the air. To an outsider, it would seem like a prosperous retreat, a hidden gem where life flourished amidst the isolation of the wilderness.
But beneath this façade lay a darker reality. The opulence came at a steep price—a price paid by the very people who inhabited this so-called paradise. The villagers, many of whom were former criminals or debtors, toiled relentlessly to sustain this illusion of wealth. They were miners, laboring day and night in the hazardous caves nearby, extracting the sulfur-rich soil that was the lifeblood of this operation.
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The Tianlong family, under the auspices of the Mu Family, ran the settlement with ruthless efficiency. They provided the villagers with all the trappings of luxury but kept them bound within the village limits. None could leave without express permission from Li Mei Cha Mu or the Tianlong family themselves. The miners, desperate for a chance to escape their pasts and pay off insurmountable debts, accepted the terms without complaint. For them, a monthly payment of a silver tael—a fortune compared to what they could earn elsewhere—and the promise of comfort seemed like a fair trade.
But the reality of their work was far from fair. Each morning, as the pale winter sun crept over the horizon, the miners lined up outside their homes, tools and makeshift masks in hand. The Tianlong family’s martial artists stood at the head of the procession, their sharp gazes ensuring that order was maintained. The group marched in silence to the gaping maw of the mine, a dark cave carved into the side of a hill. Here, the miners’ true toil began.
Within the cave, the air was thick with the acrid stench of sulfur. The walls glistened with moisture, and every breath felt like inhaling fire. Armed with pickaxes, the miners chipped away at the rock, their goal to uncover the greenish mud hidden within. This sulfur-rich soil was invaluable, a key ingredient for alchemical and industrial processes. Yet it was also a silent killer. Prolonged exposure left the miners with rashes, scars, and respiratory ailments that worsened with each passing day.
The morning passed in a grim rhythm—pickaxes striking rock, muffled coughs echoing through the tunnels, and the occasional thud of a body hitting the ground. When one miner collapsed, his hands twitching uncontrollably and foam spilling from his mouth, the others barely reacted. Two men lifted the convulsing body and carried it outside, placing it unceremoniously near the entrance before returning to their work. By the time the shift ended, the fallen miner had succumbed to his affliction. The Tianlong family’s men arrived swiftly, removing the body with practiced efficiency. No words were spoken; no questions were asked.
To the villagers, this was simply the cost of their livelihood. Many had convinced themselves that the luxurious living and substantial pay justified the risks. Others had resigned themselves to the inevitability of their fate. After all, where else could they go? What other work could they find? In the Central Plains, criminals and debtors were pariahs, unwelcome in most communities. Here, at least, they had a semblance of security, even if it came with invisible chains.
What none of them knew was just how vital their village was to the future of the empire. The sulfur-rich soil they mined was not merely a commodity; it was a cornerstone of plans that stretched far beyond their comprehension. The Mu Family, ever ambitious, had grand designs for the material, designs that could reshape the balance of power across the provinces. The villagers were unwitting pawns in a game they didn’t even know existed, their labor fueling a machine that operated in the shadows.
As the day wore on and the miners returned to their homes, the village once again donned its mask of opulence. Warm lights spilled from windows, laughter echoed through the streets, and the aroma of rich stews and spiced tobacco filled the air. But beneath the surface, the cracks remained. The scars on the miners’ bodies, the hollow look in their eyes, and the unspoken fear of who might collapse next were constant reminders of the price they paid.
In the distance, the forest loomed, its snow-covered branches swaying gently in the evening breeze. Somewhere beyond those trees, plans were being set into motion. Plans that would one day reach even this remote corner of the empire, altering the lives of everyone within it. And when that day came, the villagers would realize just how deep their chains truly ran.