Eternal Cultivation Of Alchemy

Han Mengli woke up. He didn’t know how many days it had been.

He found himself piled up in a corner with many other humans. Only, not all of them were alive.

Their bodies stank from rot, and he quickly got himself away from the pile. He looked back, seeing most that were either dying or dead, half-dried blood sticking to the soles of his naked feet.

So many dead. So much death.

He had never seen that before.

His breathing became rapid, the stench of rot and iron in the air growing stronger the more he inhaled. He looked through the corpses, not wanting to search for them, yet his eyes still sought them out.

His mother’s lifeless eyes stared back at him, half of her body missing. His breathing caught in his throat as he tried to scream, but his throat was far too dry to do anything more than croak.

Light spilled into the room as the doors swung open. Two hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him out.

Han Mengli turned, staring at the ones who had seized him, and saw their pale skin, colorful hair, and the thing that stood out the most.

Their horns.

’Demons!’ he realized.

He had been caught by the Demons.

Trees surrounded him. The blue sky stretched overhead. Things he had never seen before stood before him, yet he could focus on none of it.

He had been captured by the Demons.

He was dragged for some time before being thrown into a camp. Inside, he was taken to a bed and strapped down. His body was devoid of Qi, so he couldn’t even fight back.

A healer came by and checked him over. The man lifted his arm, and only then did Han Mengli see his own state. His flesh was completely burnt, and a piece of his left bicep had been torn through.

He should have been dead. That was probably why he had been thrown into the pile with the other humans.

His mother’s lifeless eyes were a harrowing memory he could not escape. He closed his eyes, wishing the thought away, but it wouldn’t leave him. Her gaze continued to pierce into his soul.

His mother was dead. What about his sister? The ship had exploded, and she had been inside. Had she survived? The chances were low.

He remembered his sister’s face, her beautiful smile. He could never forget it. And now, it would forever be gone.

Had his father survived? What about the woman he loved? Had they made it out alive?

The healer treated his wounds, and the Demons took him away to another camp where they told him, in as few words as possible, what he was.

He would spend the rest of his life in this place, mining ores for the Demons. If he failed, he would die.

Han Mengli didn’t need the Demons to say any more to understand what he had become—a slave.

The place the Demons kept the human slaves was a location without Qi. And without Qi, they could never truly rise up against the Demons. Not that he would even think of trying.

He was merely a True Realm cultivator. He was far too weak to do anything, even if he had Qi.

Was there even a point in living as a slave? Wouldn’t it be better to just give up?

’No,’ Han Mengli thought. ’They killed my mother. They killed my sister.’

He wanted revenge, and for that, he couldn’t take the easy way out.

On his first day in the mines, he was given a quota of how much ore he had to collect by the end of the day when the sun set: Two hundred kilograms. If he brought in any less, he would be killed since he would be useless.

And they didn’t wish to feed anyone who was useless.

He was given a pickaxe and a sack to carry the ore, then sent into the mine. With one arm more or less useless, Han Mengli wasn’t sure how long he could survive.

Here, there was competition among the slaves to find the best spots to mine. The best ones were closest to the entrance. They could gather their quota and carry it out with minimal effort.

The further in they went, the longer the haul became. And since they couldn’t carry all two hundred kilograms in a single trip, it cut into the time they could spend mining.

When he realized that, he ran too.

What he thought might be a good spot was already taken, so he hurried deeper in.

Demons stood at every checkpoint, watching them with metal staves ready to dispense punishment when needed.

Han Mengli searched for nearly twenty minutes before finding a spot where the ores were visible—twenty minutes he could have spent mining.

He looked at the wall before him, the skysteel within it shining a deep chrome, the dirt around it brown.

For a moment, he wondered if he was back in Darkwater. The tragedy had taken him from one chrome-and-brown world to another. Was that to be his life?

He started mining, first using the pickaxe with both arms, then with just one when pain shot through his left arm upon striking the wall. The skysteel ores were tough, requiring great effort to break away.

Thankfully, they naturally formed in segments, so once he dug deep enough, a piece would fall off. Once his sack was full, he hefted it over his shoulder and carried it to the top where it was weighed.

Forty-three kilograms.

He would need at least 3 more runs to complete his quota, but did he have that sort of time?

Han Mengli looked at the sky. He couldn’t tell time by the sun’s position, but he could judge how long before it set.

By the looks of it, he had a little more than two turns left. That wouldn’t be nearly enough to reach his quota.

This was bad.