"What about the total number of slaves?" Han Yu questioned.
Cao shrugged.
"I don't have exact figures. Each section is managed separately."
He paused briefly, then added,
"But from what I've heard… at least six thousand slaves."
Han Yu's eyes narrowed slightly.
Six thousand.
"And with the cultivators from the three clans?"
Cao gave a small, humorless chuckle.
"Over ten thousand workers in total."
Han Yu felt a faint shift in his chest.
Not fear.
But recognition.
That number was not small. Not in the slightest.
These were not mortals.
Not low-level cultivators.
Every single one of them was at least Core Condensation realm.
And Ten thousand such cultivators gathered in one place… That was not just a workforce, that was an army.
A terrifying one.
Han Yu kept his expression steady.
"And you manage all of them?"
Cao snorted.
"If only."
He shook his head.
"There are other curse masters. Spread throughout the tunnels. Each of us handles a section."
He glanced at Han Yu.
"You'll see them soon enough."
They continued walking.
The tunnel gradually sloped downward, the walls growing more irregular the deeper they went. The formations beca denser as well, more layered, indicating increased instability in the surrounding structure.
Han Yu observed carefully.
The rock composition changed subtly.
Darker veins appeared.
tallic streaks interlaced with brittle, pale segnts.
And occasionally…
Faint violet glimrs.
Barely visible.
But present.
"How deep does this go?" Han Yu asked.
Cao exhaled.
"We don't know."
Han Yu glanced at him.
"We keep finding new areas," Cao continued. "Every week, new tunnels. New chambers. We expand, and expand…"
He shook his head again.
"And yet, the rich deposits keep eluding us."
Han Yu understood.
This was not just mining.
This was exploration.
A constantly shifting network.
Unpredictable.
Dangerous.
After another five minutes, the tunnel widened.
The air grew colder.
The humidity increased.
And then... They arrived.
The first mining area.
Han Yu stepped into the chamber and paused.
The space opened up dramatically, expanding into a vast cavern nearly two hundred ters wide. The ceiling arched high above, supported by both natural formations and reinforced pillars etched with stabilizing runes.
The walls shimred.
Not brightly.
But subtly.
Countless tiny crystal specks embedded within the rock caught the light from the large spirit lamps placed strategically around the cavern. The effect was almost srizing, like a night sky filled with faint, scattered stars.
But Han Yu knew better.
Those shimring points…
Were not all valuable.
Most were impurities.
Or fragnts.
The real Violet Spirit Quartz was hidden among them.
Fifty slaves were working within the chamber.
Their movents were slow.
Careful.
Deliberate.
Each one focused intensely on their assigned section of the wall. So used small chisels. Others employed delicate tools that vibrated with controlled frequency. A few manipulated threads of Qi, probing the rock with extre precision.
There was no shouting.
No chaos.
Only quiet concentration.
Even the sound of tools striking stone was subdued.
CLINK
asured.
CLINK
Controlled.
CLINK
One wrong move…
And the crystal would shatter.
At the edge of the chamber stood a single figure.
A curse master.
He watched the slaves with cold, unwavering attention.
His eyes moved constantly, scanning for errors, fluctuations, or anything out of place. Occasionally, he would raise a hand, adjusting a seal remotely or issuing a silent command that only the slaves seed to understand.
Han Yu observed everything.
The slaves.
The tools.
The formations.
The structure of the cavern itself.
And beneath it all…
He felt it again.
That faint, elusive presence.
Sothing deeper within the mine.
Sothing that had yet to reveal itself.
Han Yu's gaze lingered on the shimring walls.
And for the first ti since arriving…
He began to truly understand.
Why this place was so difficult.
And why it was so valuable.
Han Yu stood silently at the edge of the cavern, his gaze sweeping across the wide expanse of the mining area with a calm that belied the storm of thoughts beneath.
The shimring walls reflected faint glints of light from the spirit lamps, creating an almost deceptive beauty that contrasted sharply with the grim reality of the place. Every inch of the cavern spoke of tension, precision, and danger.
This was not a place where brute force ruled. It was a place where a single misstep could undo hours of labor.
His eyes moved from one slave to another.
There were no expressions.
No complaints.
No signs of individuality.
Each person worked with chanical repetition, their movents precise yet devoid of life. Their gazes were dull, unfocused, as if their minds were not truly present. The curse seals etched upon them had done their work well. They did not look like cultivators anymore. They looked like tools.
Han Yu felt a faint tightening in his chest.
But he did not show it.
Instead, he began observing more carefully, letting his spirit sense sweep lightly across the area without drawing attention. He focused on faces, on body structures, on the faint traces of Qi signatures that might still linger despite the suppression of the seals.
Nothing.
Not a single familiar presence.
Not here.
He suppressed the disappointnt.
'They must be deeper,' he thought.
Or worse…
He did not finish that thought.
Instead, he turned his attention back to the environnt. He approached the walls, running his fingers lightly across the surface. The texture varied drastically from section to section. In so areas, the rock was dense and tallic, resisting even the faint pressure of his touch. In others, it was brittle, crumbling slightly under minimal contact.
This inconsistency was the root of the problem.
Han Yu crouched slightly, examining a section where a slave was working. The man was using a small chisel, tapping at the rock with careful, asured strikes. No pickaxes. No heavy tools. Even a slightly stronger impact could destabilize the structure.
The vibrations would travel.
The silica would shift.
The quartz would shatter.
Han Yu watched for several minutes.
Then ten.
Then thirty.
Every movent was controlled.
Every strike calculated.
And yet…
Progress was painfully slow.
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