Abyssal Sanctuary.

Inside a secluded, elegant pavilion.

Riiiip!

Qin Lingxue slammed the book shut, her face burning a deep crimson. In her agitation, her slender fingers had clenched too hard, tearing a jagged gash right through the cover.

Her eyes swam, dazed and unfocused. Explicit scenes replayed in her mind on an infinite loop, making her heart hammer against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess.

“This… how is this possible? The Holy Scion of the Supreme Mystery Sanctuary… he actually recommended I read such filth!”

Qin Lingxue was consumed by a mix of shame and indignation. A layer of frost seemed to coat her exquisite, jade-like features. She wished she could grab her sword, drag a certain someone out, and hack them into pieces.

But as the initial shock faded, she forced herself to calm down.

“Could it be that I just happened to pick the one bad apple? Perhaps the majority of the books are normal…”

Holding onto this sliver of hope, she retrieved another volume and flipped it open.

The content was even more explicit than the last.

Refusing to believe it, she dumped the entire pile of books from her storage bracelet and checked them one by one. The more she looked, the hotter her face became, until her entire body felt like it was on fire.

In the end, she was forced to accept a cruel reality:

Not a single book given to her by the Supreme Mystery Holy Scion was decent.

“This is too much!”

Qin Lingxue’s willow-leaf brows knit together in fury. She raised her hand, ready to destroy these unsightly tomes on the spot—

Just then, a gentle, melodious female voice drifted in from outside.

“Xue’er, are you there?”

Master!

Qin Lingxue nearly jumped out of her skin. Flustered, she scrambled to sweep all the books back into storage. She hastily smoothed her robes and patted her hair, trying to look presentable before hurrying to the door with a guilty conscience.

If Master discovered she was reading this kind of trash, the disappointment would be unbearable…

Qin Lingxue’s heart was in her throat, her breathing ragged and uneven.

Standing under the corridor was a beauty dressed in graceful palace robes. She was tall and slender, her face as fair as a lotus flower, her eyes clear like autumn water. An aura of dignified grace surrounded her, intertwined with a powerful, hidden Sword Intent.

This was none other than the Supreme Elder of the Abyssal Sanctuary, Qiu Lanjun.

Seeing the woman before her, Qin Lingxue quickly stepped forward and bowed respectfully.

“Disciple greets Master. May I ask what brings you here?”

Qiu Lanjun looked her disciple up and down. Her sharp eyes immediately sensed a change, and she asked softly, “Xue’er, are you hiding something from your teacher?”

Qin Lingxue’s heart seized. Her expression stiffened unnaturally.

“N-no, nothing. I was just… reading.”

She had never been good at lying. Admitting to reading without confessing the content was the absolute limit of her deception skills.

“Reading?”

Qiu Lanjun’s brows furrowed slightly as she regarded Qin Lingxue with suspicion.

She noticed that her usually aloof, ice-cold disciple seemed like a completely different person today. Her complexion was rosy, her eyes were bright and shifting, and her entire being radiated a vibrancy and agility that had been missing for years.

Qiu Lanjun observed her carefully for a moment longer before finally offering a smile of encouragement.

“Xue’er, although I do not know what method you used to achieve this change, I want to tell you… your path is right!”

“I know you have been troubled by the mental suppression caused by the Abyssal Frost Sword. You do not wish to become a hollow, emotionless walking corpse, which is why you have tried so many ways to reawaken the feelings in your heart.”

“Originally, I was worried that you might go astray in your desperation. But looking at you now… it seems the method you found this time is incredibly effective.”

“Ah?”

Qin Lingxue stood there, completely dumbfounded. She had been seconds away from falling to her knees and confessing her sins, fully prepared for punishment.

She never expected that her Master wouldn’t pry into the details. Instead, she was encouraging her to keep doing it?

What… what is happening?

Seeing Qin Lingxue’s flushed, embarrassed expression, Qiu Lanjun nodded with a satisfied smile and spoke earnestly.

“Disciple, we cultivators pursue transcendence and freedom. As long as you find something that sparks your interest, do not concern yourself with the opinions of others. Follow your heart.”

“Remember, the Abyssal Frost Sword is a blade of righteousness, not some demonic artifact. How could it truly freeze a wielder’s emotions? The only thing that can trap you is your own mind.”

With those profound words, she turned and drifted away, leaving a stunned Qin Lingxue rooted to the spot.

It took a long time for Qin Lingxue to snap out of her daze. She stared blankly at the empty corridor and murmured to herself, “Master means… I should… keep trying?”

Just the thought of continuing to read those books made her heart race with a mix of panic and confusion.

But now that she thought about it… that sense of taboo, the novelty, the rush of blood… it was indeed a stimulation she had never felt before.

Half a month later.

Western Demon Domain.

Mining Area.

The canyon was a desolate scar on the earth where not a blade of grass grew. The exposed rock was a grotesque reddish-brown, making it impossible to tell if the color came from iron rust or centuries of dried blood.

At the center of the canyon lay a bottomless fissure in the earth.

Waves of tangible, metallic Killing Intent seeped up from the darkness. Combined with the howling, biting wind, the gloom and cold penetrated deep into the marrow.

Teams of Nether Fiend Sect disciples flew overhead, torches blazing and weapons drawn, patrolling the canyon endlessly. Their job was two-fold: prevent the mine slaves from escaping, and ensure the precious Crimson Gold Ore vein wasn’t raided by outsiders.

Deep underground, in a lavishly decorated quiet room.

A middle-aged man sat at the head of the chamber. He wore black robes cinched with a golden belt, and his aura was fierce and oppressive. His expression, however, was grim as he listened to a subordinate’s report.

“Reporting to Steward Situ. This month’s output of high-quality Crimson Gold is thirteen thousand seven hundred catties. A total of twenty-eight laborers have died…”

The speaker was a withered, dark-skinned old man. Knowing these numbers would not please his superior, he knelt prostrate on the floor, trembling in fear, not daring to lift his head.

Sure enough, upon hearing the figures, Situ Yun—the Steward Elder in charge of the mining operations—frowned deeply.

“A bunch of useless trash. You can’t even handle such a small matter?” Situ Yun’s voice was ice-cold. “The end of the year is approaching. If we fail to meet the sect’s annual quota, you and I can start preparing our own funerals.”

The withered old man shuddered violently. “Sir, you know the situation… last month, a swarm of Gold-Devouring Beasts erupted from the deep tunnels. We exterminated them quickly, but over a hundred laborers were lost.”

“We were already short-handed. With the increased quotas this month, many more were worked to death.”

“However, this subordinate has already sent word to the branch halls. The mine is purchasing laborers at a premium. We’ve instructed them not to kill captured cultivators for now—selling them here yields double the Spirit Stones.”

“The measure is working. A fresh batch of ‘meat’ arrived today. Next month’s output will increase.”

Crimson Gold Ore was a fundamental material for refining Magical Artifacts. The richest veins were located over three thousand meters underground, and the rock was incredibly hard. Mortals would die instantly in such harsh conditions.

Thus, the miners here were all cultivators. Most were at the Qi Refining realm, but there were plenty of Foundation Building experts among them as well.

The workforce consisted largely of righteous path disciples and Rogue Cultivators captured by the Nether Fiend Sect, mixed with a few sect disciples who had committed crimes and been enslaved as punishment.

“Good.”

Hearing the assurance, Situ Yun’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained indifferent.

“You know the Sect’s methods for punishing failure. If you don’t want to take a tour of the Soul Refining Cave, you had best exceed the quota.”

“From now on, extend the shifts by another two hours. I don’t want to hear about casualty numbers, only Crimson Gold output. If anyone dares to riot, kill them on the spot. Understood?”

By the end of his sentence, his voice was dripping with Killing Intent.

The order was a death sentence. The survival conditions were already hellish; extending the hours would simply grind the laborers into dust.

Of course, if they cared about human life, the Nether Fiend Sect wouldn’t be called a Demon Sect.

“This subordinate obeys!”

Cold sweat slicked the old man’s forehead. He bowed hastily and retreated, looking like a beaten dog.

Once he was alone, Situ Yun’s face fell, his expression turning gloomy.

If he had a choice, he would rather die than be the Steward Elder of this hellhole.

The Spiritual Qi here was thin, the administrative work was endless, and the cultivation environment was garbage. If he did well, it was expected; if he failed, he was the scapegoat. It was a thankless task.

He was a direct descendant of the prestigious Situ family. He hadn’t made any mistakes. Yet, the Peak Master—a member of the rival Ji clan—had exiled him to this godforsaken place to watch over a hole in the ground.

It was a deliberate humiliation.

But with the Ji family’s Ancestor recently breaking through to the peak of the Great Ascension realm, the Ji clan was at the height of its power within the sect. Situ Yun could only grit his teeth and swallow the bitterness.

“I can only hope the Family Head reaches an agreement with the Shen clan soon to counter the Ji behemoth. Only then can I escape this wretched place…”

Situ Yun sighed deeply, closed his eyes, and forced himself back into a meditative trance.